Page 28 of Make Me Love You

“You know why.”

“I want you to say it.” He moved toward her, a determined glint in his eyes.

She took a step back, expecting he would take the hint and give her space. Like he always did. When he didn’t, she took another step back, and another. Her spine hit the wall of the barn. She had nowhere to go. He crowded into her space, braced one arm against the wall next to her head, and leaned in.

“Say it.”

She raised her chin, meeting his gaze squarely, ignoring the sudden heat in her belly. “No.”

For some reason, this seemed to amuse him. The corners of his mouth tilted up, and the fire in his eyes licked hotter. “What’s the matter, Ms. Andrews?” His voice was a low, seductive growl. “Chicken?”

Ms. Andrews. Again! The absolute nerve of this man. Fury and lust swirled into a tornado inside her until she couldn’t tell which was which. She grabbed his face with both hands, bringing him even closer. The stubble of his beard scraped against her palms and she dug her nails against his skin in retaliation, enough to leave temporary marks, but not draw blood.

“Because I can’t stand to look at your face every damn day, that’s why. Is that what you want to hear? Because when I look at your face, I want to kick you or kiss you, and I don’t ever seem to know which urge will win. Do you have any idea what that’s like?” she demanded.

His gaze burned into hers. “Yeah. I know what that’s like.”

Her heart was pounding so hard she was sure he could feel the vibrations. What the hell was happening to her? She knew lust. She knew hate. But having them mingled into a single storm entirely focused on Eli Carter was something that genuinely shook her to her core. She couldn’t begin to process it. All she could think was that his mouth was inches from hers, and maybe someone should do something about it.

And then he did.

He dipped his head and his lips crashed against hers.

Eight years ago, ten years ago, twelve years ago...she had, on occasion, allowed herself to imagine what it would be like if Eli kissed her. Sweet, she always thought. Gentle. Maybe a little shy. A tentative question of a kiss.

This wasn’t anything like she had imagined all those years ago. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t sweet. There was no question to be answered here, only demands with which she eagerly complied. It was a struck match hitting gasoline and the explosion was instantaneous. They didn’t ease their way into it. The kiss burned out of control from the moment of first contact.

She released his face only so she could get a better grip on him by digging her fingers into his thick, dark hair. She angled her head, parting his lips with her own before sliding her tongue into his mouth. He groaned, a rough, fierce sound unlike anything she had ever heard from him. He had always been so gentle with her. So careful.

He wasn’t careful now. And, God, she couldn’t get enough of it. Finally, finally, he was on her level, down in the mud with all the rage and need and things she couldn’t say out loud.

He put one hand on her hip, gripping her hard enough that pain mingled with pleasure, holding her still so he could press his hard body against her. She knew she could tell him to stop, that it was enough now, and he would. But it wasn’t enough. She wasn’t sure it ever would be. How could she ever get enough of this? Enough of him?

Pleasure rocked through her, and she arched her hips, grinding shamelessly against him. The scrape of his shirt buttons against her chest tightened her nipples into hard points. She could feel the hard ridge of his arousal between her legs, sending a shock wave of need straight down to her core. No, she could never get enough of this. Of him.

He shifted, breaking some of the contact, and she growled—a sound so feral she was shocked it came from herself—and dragged him back to her mouth.

Suddenly everything changed. The hand on her hip gentled, the ferocious press of his lips turned sweet.

“Emma-bear,” he whispered, before lightly nipping her earlobe with his teeth.

The sudden onslaught of emotion slapped her in the face like a stinging wind, making her eyes smart. Oh, hell no. She was not going to cry. She was not. This wasn’t rage or lust or even the storm of them combined. This was so much worse than that. It was...it was...Well, it didn’t matter what it was. It was bad. She could take whatever heat he brought and more, but the tenderness... Oh, God. The tenderness nearly undid her.

Her heart squeezed tight, and suddenly she felt herself letting go, pulling back, pushing him away. It didn’t take much. He went easily. So damn easily. She tried not to let that hurt too much. After all, she had been the one to tell him to go. Always, it had been her.

But he never argued.

She was shaking. Her hands that had held him close, her knees that had still not recovered from that first explosive touch, and everywhere in between. Was she shaking because they had kissed, or because they had stopped? She wasn’t sure. Both, probably.

“We should take a look at where the Ferris wheel will go,” Eli said. “I had an idea that if we move it to the other side of the field, to the west of the barn instead of the east, people might get a good view of the sunset over Hart Mountain while they’re up there.”

Calm. Cool. Polite.

Just like always.

Damn him.

“Right,” she said. “Right. Good idea. The whole site is pretty flat, but we should check out where you want to move it. See if there’s anything that might cause a problem.”

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