Page 34 of Saddles and Snowstorms
“I’m sorry,” I muttered. “That was a low blow.”
“It was,” Rowan agreed, but his expression softened. “But I understand why you said it.”
He shifted on the armrest, his thigh now pressing against my arm. I could feel the heat of him through his jeans and my flannel shirt. My heart was racing so hard I wondered if he could hear it over the storm.
“You’re scared,” he continued, those green eyes seeing right through me. “So am I.”
I snorted. “You? The fearless city vet who charges into blizzards to save stubborn ranchers?”
A smile tugged at his lips. “That’s not courage. That’s just stupidity.”
His face was so close now, I could see the flecks of gold in his green eyes, the way his lashes cast shadows on his cheeks. My throat went dry.
“Then what are you afraid of?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Rowan’s hand moved, sliding over mine with deliberate slowness. His palm was warm and calloused—not the soft hands I’d expected from a city boy. Those were working hands. Healing hands.
“This,” he said simply. “Whatever this is between us.”
The air in the cabin seemed to thicken, making it hard to breathe. I could hear nothing but the crackling fire and the pounding of my own heart.
“There ain’t nothin’ between us,” I lied, my voice rough.
Rowan’s eyebrow arched. “No?” His thumb traced circles on my wrist, sending shivers up my arm. “Then why does your pulse jump when I touch you? Why do you try so hard not to look at me?”
I swallowed hard, unable to look away from his face. “Rowan?—”
“I’ve seen the way you watch me,” Rowan said, his voice dropping even lower. “When you think I don’t notice.”
My heart jumped into my throat. I couldn’t deny it—not with him this close, not with his scent filling my lungs and his hand on mine. The pretense I’d maintained since he arrived in Sagebrush was crumbling like a sandcastle in the tide.
“Maybe I do,” I admitted, my voice rough. “Don’t mean anything has to come of it.”
Rowan’s fingers tightened slightly around mine. “And if I want something to come of it?”
The fire popped loudly in the hearth, sending shadows dancing across his face. His eyes were dark with something I recognized because I felt it too—hunger, raw and undeniable.
“You don’t know what you’re askin’ for,” I warned, even as my body betrayed me, leaning imperceptibly closer to his. “I ain’t good at... this. People.”
“I’m not asking for forever, Brooks,” Rowan said, though something in his eyes made me wonder if that was entirely true. “Just tonight. Just... this.”
His words hung in the air between us, tangible as smoke. Something deep in my chest constricted, a feeling I hadn’t allowed myself in years.
“Just tonight,” I repeated, my voice sounding strange to my own ears.
Rowan nodded, but there was uncertainty in his eyes now. “Unless...”
I didn’t let him finish. Maybe it was the storm isolating us from the world, or the fire warming my blood, or just the way he looked at me—like I was something worth wanting. Whatever it was, I found myself reaching up, my calloused fingers brushing against the stubble on his jaw, tracing the line of that scar I’d been staring at for weeks.
His breath hitched, eyes darkening as they locked with mine.
“This is a bad idea,” I murmured, even as my thumb traced his bottom lip.
“Probably,” Rowan agreed, his voice rough. “Want me to stop?”
I shook my head slowly. “No.”
That was all it took. Rowan moved from the armrest, careful of my injured ankle as he lowered himself onto my lap, his weight settling against me in a way that drew a groan from my lips. The heat of his ass pressed against my groin made all my nerves come alive. I went from half to rock hard in an instant and Iknewhe felt it.
