Page 61 of Wylder Ranch
We stand there, staring at each other, and I wish to God I could read her mind because something is going on behind her eyes. I see it in the flare of her pupils, the faint creases fanning around the edge, the new minted sparkle.
But I’ve learned, as happens with a baby, the smell of shit can come out of nowhere—even at a birthday party. And the moment is broken with Haven’s giggle.
“I’ll go change her.”
Fine by me. I’ve already changed two today, and there’s only so much my gag reflex can take. Instead, I say, “Let me. I have it down to a fine art.”
She giggles, and her hand on my chest stops me from moving. It almost stops me from breathing. “No, I want to. I haven’t seen her all day. I can cope with a shitty diaper.”
“Then I shall fetch you a birthday drink instead.”
“Sounds perfect.”
I follow her out, Haven taking the stairs while I head to the kitchen.
“Alex—”
I spin back around and come face to face with her, and she’s standing on the stair that brings her right to my eyeline. Everything lines up—eyes, nose,mouth.
Blood pounds in my ears. The noise of my siblings quietens, and all I focus on is Haven. The faint freckles on her nose, the navy outline of her irises, the slow bat of her lashes.
“Thank you . . . for everything you’ve done for me, and for Everly. It’s been wonderful being here and being welcomed by your family. And today. . . thank you for asking Clemmie to take me. It was really very kind. I never expected. . .”
While she talks, her eyes flick between my eyes and my mouth, until they finally drop and stay put. I don’t reply. I’m still thinking about her tongue darting across her plump bottom lip, and before I know what’s happening, her hand slides around my neck to tug me in.
All I can smell are the oils she’s been massaged with—florally and not at all Haven—but they conjure up images that shoot straight to my dick, nonetheless.
And when she moans, “Alex,” I know that I don’t stand a chance in hell of not kissing her back.
Her pulse hammers under my thumb. My fingers wrap around the base of her throat, and when her lips break and my tongue slips alongside hers, the year we’ve spent apart is almost worth it.
Weirdly, I register the taste of cucumbers, before that thought is pushed away to savor her grip on my neck and the way her fingers slide into my hair, nails scraping and spurring me on. Our tongues twist together, reacquainting themselves. It’s as familiar as riding a bike.
My hand slips around to the base of her spine, pulling her against me, trying to get as close as I can. Ineedto get as close as I can.
It’s clear we both forgot that Haven’s still holding Everly, because when she cries out, the pair of us jumpapart like teenagers caught fucking against the barn door.
I’m too shocked to speak. And based on her chest heaving while she catches her breath, Haven is too.
A couple of meters away, Max is laughing. We’re outside a room full of people carrying on oblivious. No one knows.
Come to think of it, it’s that age-old tree falling in the woods scenario. If no one witnessed it, did it make a noise?
The answer is yes, because I can still taste her lips on mine. I can feel them pressed against me. When I find her gaze, I can see heat burning in her dark green irises. She wanted it as much as I did.
Then she turns and runs up the stairs to get Everly changed without saying another word, and once the throbbing in my dick dies down, I go back into the snug pretending everything is normal.
It isn’t.
Haven and I agreed to be friends, but there was nothing friendly about that kiss. There’s nothing friendly in the way I think about Haven. And I’m done with pretending I’m okay with it.
It’s five weeks exactly until Christmas. Thirty-five days. Eight hundred and forty hours.
And if I can make it through without a repeat of what just happened, it’ll be a Christmas miracle.
CHAPTER 15
Haven
