Page 63 of Strung Along

“You didn’t need to. It was all in the tone.”

Her brows fly up. “The tone? Well then, read the tone in this, Cowboy?—”

Whether it be from seeing her connect with Sky, or wearing those damn boots like she was born to, or even just every moment spent with her over the past few weeks combined, something gives inside of me.

Before she can finish ripping me a new one the way only she seems able to, I’m turning her to face me and taking her cheeks in my hands, placing my mouth on hers.

She stands frozen for a heartbeat, but then she thaws for me. Leaning up on her toes, she parts her lips, and I groan at myfirst taste of her. Soft and sweet, like cotton candy without the stomach ache.

I drift a hand behind her ear and thread my fingers through her hair, using the hold to tip her head back further and deepen the kiss. She swipes her tongue along my bottom lip, and I let her explore, close to begging her to do whatever she wishes with me.

Our toes touch, both of us having drifted closer as if pulled by an invisible string. We’re flush together, and the rapid rise and fall of her chest has me throbbing behind the zipper of my jeans. I’m breathing just as frantically as she is, but fuck if I’m willing to end the kiss so soon because of it.

In this moment, it doesn’t matter that this isn’t forever. Not when the right now is so damn good.

Her hands find the front of my jacket, taking two fistfuls of it and using it for leverage so she doesn’t lose balance. I know I need to pull back, but it takes every ounce of willpower to do it.

Dragging the tip of my nose up the length of hers, I inhale the sweet scent of her perfume. She pants against my lips, and I do the same.

“Better?” I murmur.

“Better?” she echoes.

“Are you still jealous?”

Her eyes snap open, and I chuckle when they roll. “You couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

“When it comes to you, that’s the one thing I can’t seem to do.”

25

ANNALISE

I’ve never understoodwinter weddings.

They’re cold, there’s no colour outdoors for pictures, and travelling can oftentimes be a pain in the ass. But I suppose when you have money overflowing from your wallet like most NHL players do, the season with which you decide to get married doesn’t really matter. Money won’t fix the temperature, but it can certainly buy greenery and compensate unexpected travel expenses.

In all honesty, over the past few weeks, I’d completely forgotten about the wedding Braxton’s forcing me to attend. Between work, pole, and spending as much time as possible with Brody, I feel like my life has been moving on three-times speed. December is halfway through, and with it, I’m facing my first unforgivably cold winter and a trip to Ottawa for a wedding I’m terrified to attend.

I haven’t been back to Steele Ranch since that first and only time last week, but that hasn’t stopped me from hanging on to Brody every chance I can get. I’m surprised he hasn’t gotten annoyed with driving me around yet.

We haven’t kissed since we were in the stables either . . . despite how much I’ve hinted at doing it again. A woman’spride can only take so much gentle rejection before she backs off. To make matters worse, he’s made me so damn horny with his lingering touches and sweet gestures lately that I’ve had to recharge my vibrator three times thisweek.

It’s cruel, and I’ve begun wondering just what exactly I must have done in my past life to deserve this level of teasing in my present one.

Having Brody around on the regular has also all but completely cut off my conversations with Bo. It didn’t take me long after spending the day with Brody at his family ranch to confirm my hunch, and I refuse to keep up the ruse. The two men are one and the same, but for some reason, he’s known and hasn’t made an effort to tell me.

Maybe the guilt from keeping his conclusions to himself has kept him from kissing me again. Something tells me I’m not far off. I could tell him myself, but a stubborn part of me wants him to do it. He realized first, after all.

“You look even better in that dress in person,” Braxton muses.

Scrunching her curly hair in her product-coated hands, she continues gawking at me in the mirror. My older sister is gorgeous, so hearing compliments from her never fails to hit harder than any others.

The master bathroom in her and Maddox’s new house is magazine-worthy, and I’m still struggling to pick my jaw up off the floor at the overwhelming sight of it. It’s a white marble palace with a spa tub triple the size of my regular tub, a stained-glass window above it, and a long vanity with two sinks and a cabinet built between them. The shower looks like it could fit ten people. I’ve already made Braxton promise to let me use it at least once before I go back home.

When she first told me Maddox was planning on hopefully finishing his career in Ottawa, I knew it was only a matter of timebefore they upgraded from their first house to their forever one. This place is perfect for them, and I’m so happy for my sister. She deserves everything she has. A beautiful son, successful career, and a husband who would lie on hot coals just to form a bridge for her to walk across them.

“With such a beautiful date, it’s only fair I try my best,” I reply.

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