2
Then the man clears his throat, and I snap my gaze up to meet twinkling, amused blue eyes. All at once, I realize I'm practically drooling.
Cool. Very cool.
Swallowing, I straighten up and try to stick my tongue back in my mouth. "Hi," I say, my voice croaking. "Hello. Hi."
"Hi." The man cocks a brow. His sinful lips curl upward. "I'm Dylan. My sister told me you needed help with your bags."
Thomas barely spares him a glance. He waves a hand. "You can put them in the blue room upstairs."
My brother turns and gestures for me to go with him. I hesitate, looking to the strapping cowboy lifting my overstuffed roller bag like it weighs nothing at all. Warmth blooms inside me. It's fogging my head.
Dylan is one of the sexiest men I've ever met, but that doesn't explain the overwhelming force of the attraction I feel for him.
"Actually." The word slips out before I've even decided to say it. "I wouldn't mind freshening up a bit." I tear my gaze from Dylan to meet my brother's disapproving gaze. "Long trip and all."
Thomas narrows his eyes. "Sure."
Normally, the disapproval dripping from his voice would have me bristling, but I don't have the attention for it right now. "I'll meet you in a minute."
"I'll be happy to show you to the dining room when you're ready," Dylan assures me. He tips his head toward the stairs.
That's not the only thing I want him to show me.
A vivid fantasy flashes through my mind of him taking me to my room, closing the door behind us, then stripping off every layer of his clothes, revealing golden skin and rippling muscle. Abs and biceps and pectorals and that faint trail of hair leading down toward his--
A rough noise escapes my throat, pulling me out of my naughty daydream. Heart pounding, I hurry to follow him up the stairs. When I wasn't paying attention, he grabbed my purse and carry-on, too, but none of the weight or the bulk is slowing him down in the least.
My brother grumbles something as he walks away, but I don't pay him any mind.
As I follow Dylan to the second floor, I struggle to take in anything other than the view of his ass in those sculpted jeans, but the general look of the ranch seems to be consistent. At the top of the stairs, he turns right to lead me down a long hallway.
"Your parents are staying over there," he tells me, glancing back. "Your brother's family is in the south corner."
I have no idea which way is up or down, much less north or south, but I nod, breathless.
"And here we are." At the far end of the hall, he pushes open a door. He holds it for me, tipping his hat to signal that I should go ahead.
And it's not that tight a squeeze to walk past him, but it doesn't matter.
The slightest brush of my body against his sets my senses ablaze.
The warmth in the pit of my abdomen turns to molten heat, his scent filling my lungs.
My legs threaten to turn to jelly, and the achy place between my thighs goes slick and wet.
I manage to make it into the room, though. Dylan strides past me once there's space to do so and sets my bags down. He turns to me, and every word I ever learned flies out of my brain.
"Is there anything else I can do for you, ma'am?"
So many, but all of them involve him pinning me to the bed. Getting us both naked and running those rough hands and full lips over every single inch of my tingling skin.
I shake my head, my mouth dry.
"You sure?"
Is it just me, or does his voice deepen? His blue eyes flash dark, his nostrils flaring, and for a moment I could swear maybe he feels the same intense flare of desire that I do.
I take a step closer. The air hums with electricity.
No. This is crazy.
I shake my head and turn away.
He stands there for a second. I can hear him swallow. "All right."
He says it slow, his voice thick and sultry, so hot it feels like it reaches right into me. My insides flutter with a longing that's almost painful in its intensity.
His cowboy boots thud against the hardwood floor as he moves to go. I want to call him back, but I don't trust myself.
I'm not the kind of girl who throws herself at random strangers. I don't lose my head around men I've never met before--even ones as unfairly gorgeous as Dylan.
I definitely don't rip off all my clothes and beg them to take me hard within minutes of meeting them.
But for the first time in my life, I swear I'm on the desperate edge of doing precisely that.
"Ring the front desk if there's anything else you need, ma'am."
"Reagan," I sputter.
He pauses in the doorway. I dare to look at him, and my knees wobble with lust all over again. His eyes pin me.
I suck in a rasping breath. "Reagan," I tell him again. "My name. Call me Reagan."
He smiles, slow and seductive. He touches the brim of his hat. "Nice to meet you, Reagan."
He steps out into the hall, closing the door behind him.
The instant he's gone, I sag like a marionette whose strings have been cut.
What the hell was that?
Was it a passing moment? A freak occurence? Or will I turn into a slobbering, lust-addled lunatic every time I see him over the next two weeks?
I glance around the room, but it offers no answers.
As promised, it's very...blue, with a soft rug, flowing curtains, and a giant four-poster bed that invites me to climb right up and in.
I half consider doing just that. Five seconds on my back, my hand squeezed between my legs, rubbing frantically where I'm all hot and swollen and needy, and I bet I'd be coming like a freight train, calling Dylan's name as I imagine his thickness sinking into me.
Instead, I cross the room. The far wall contains a sliding glass door. Even though it's cold outside, I push it open and step out onto a little balcony. The air is bracing and exactly what I needed. I let it wash over me, tipping my head back to feel the bright winter sun on my face.
When I open my eyes, I feel clearer, if no less unsettled.
Folding my arms across my chest for warmth, I gaze out across the landscape. It's startlingly beautiful, with tree-dotted hills covered in silent snow that fade out into distant mountains and a clear blue sky.
The sound of voices captures my attention.
Not far from the building where my family and I are staying stands a barn and stables. My breath stutters as I recognize Dylan's unmistakable silhouette striding in that direction. He calls out, and someone answers.
Two other figures emerge from the barn, and my heart goes haywire inside my chest.
From this far away, I can't make them out terribly clearly, but they're cut from the same cloth as Dylan.
Tall and strong, with muscles that stand out even under jackets and work clothes.
Both wear cowboy hats and boots. One has pale skin and a reddish-brown beard, while the other is of a darker complexion, possibly Latino, with inky black hair that hangs to his shoulders.
I take a step forward. Snow crunches beneath my boots.
The men look up. Even across half the length of a football field, I can feel Dylan's gaze searing into me. His friends' gazes meet mine in turn, and there's no way to explain how I suddenly feel naked inside.
Seen.
The feeling is too intense. It doesn't make sense.
I wave faintly, feeling like an idiot.
Then I turn tail and head back inside, but it doesn't matter. I can still feel their eyes.
Like a caress. Like a touch.
Like something so hot it burns.