Page 56 of Resisting Isaac
Relief hits me low in the chest. I press a kiss to herhairline and murmur, “Good. Because I’d like to very respectfully say that was the hottest thing I’ve ever been a part of.”
She lets out this soft, breathless laugh that makes something tighten in my throat. “Respectfully?”
“I figured I should be a gentleman,” I say, grinning, “since I just put your legs over my shoulders in a room full of saddles.”
She groans and hides her face. “You are never allowed to bring that up again.”
“Deal.” I nuzzle against her temple, still smiling. “But only because I’m hoping for several repeat performances.”
She pulls back just enough to look up at me.
And hell—her hair’s a mess, lips swollen, dress still off, but she looks at me like I’ve given her a gift.
I slide her black lace panties off the ankle they’re dangling from and tuck them into my pocket. “I’m keeping these,” I tell her.
She makes a face like I’m being ridiculous but she’s smiling. Damn, that smile gets me every time. I’ve noticed she’s selfish with it—reserving it for rare occasions, not just tossing one to every person who glances her direction.
I don’t have the vocabulary to explain what it means to me that I seem to get more of her smiles than anyone else, but it makes me want to beat on my chest and yellmineto every motherfucker within hearing distance.
I reach for her dress—still damp and wrinkled from earlier—and ease it over her head, careful not to rush. My fingers trail down her arms as I help her back into her clothing, and it hits me all at once:
The risk we’re taking. The price we’ll both pay if we get caught.
The fact that I don’t know if I care anymore because there’s nothing I wouldn’t give up for this. For her.
The look in her eyes, the one that says she’s with me in this, the trust, I’m becoming addicted to it.
Elena’s stomach rumbles loudly as we’re cleaning up.
She lowers her eyes as if she’s embarrassed but I tilt her chin so she’ll look at me.
“When did you eat last, baby?”
She chews her lower lip. “Lunch, I think.”
That was nearly six hours ago.
“You hungry?” I ask.
Her eyes dart away from mine as she shrugs a non-committal shoulder.
I brush a piece of hair behind her ear. “Let’s get you fed. Then back to the cabin. Warm bath. Feet up. You’ve had a hell of a day.”
She sighs. “Not as tough as Eli has had. Maybe we should invite him to dinner.”
“He’ll survive.”
Her voice goes all teasing. “Jealous, cowboy?”
“Not really.” I look her in the eye. “Not when I’m the one who just had my cock buried deep inside you.”
She pinches my side. “Behave.”
I grin. “We can get the guy a doggie bag, I guess. But trust me—Laurel Logan doesn’t let anyone go hungry on this ranch. I bet she’s already making Willow hand-deliver him a plate whether she wants to or not.”
Elena laughs again. And I decide right then I’ll do just about anything to keep that sound in my life.
Even if it scares the hell out of me.
