29
She barely had time to step down before he was in front of her.
“Gordon?”
He took her hand, pulled her inside the nearest storage building, and closed the door behind them.
The space smelled of wood, leather, oil, rope, and dust. Sunlight slipped through high windows in pale stripes, falling across stacked feed bins, saddles, canvas bags, coiled ropes, and shelves full of tools and supplies.
For one suspended second, they only looked at each other.
Then Gordon pulled her into his arms and kissed her.
Talia’s breath caught.
She had not expected it.
Not here. Not now. Not with the morning still fresh and the ranch stirring around them, not after everything they had said about professionalism and caution and no more mistakes.
But the second his mouth touched hers, all of that scattered.
She did not resist.
She leaned into him.
Gordon made a low sound, rough and hungry, and it moved through her like heat.
His mouth was firm, demanding, yet still careful in a way that made her want to undo every bit of restraint he had left.
He tasted like coffee, mint, and something warm that was only him.
His arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer, and Talia let herself fall into the feel of him.
The hard strength of his chest.
The heat of his hands.
The uneven rhythm of his breathing.
He kissed her like he had been holding himself back for days and had finally found a place where nobody could see him break.
His hands skimmed her body, restless and uncertain, touching her waist, her back, her hips, then moving again as though he did not know where he was allowed to stay. That hesitation made something tender ache inside her.
He wanted her.
Badly.
But he was still trying not to take more than she offered.
Gordon broke the kiss and looked down into her eyes.
Talia knew what he saw.
She could feel it on her face, in her breath, in the way her body stayed pressed to his instead of pulling away.
Desire.
Open.
Undeniable.
His eyes darkened.
“Talia,” he whispered.
She did not answer.
She could not.
Gordon took her mouth again.
This time she stopped pretending she was only being kissed.
Her hands moved over him, learning the hard lines of his shoulders, the strength of his arms, the heat of his back beneath his shirt. She felt him shudder when her fingers slid lower, when her palm pressed against the rigid proof of his desire beneath his jeans.
His breath broke against her mouth.
Talia’s pulse jumped.
There was no mistaking him now.
No pretending this was only tension or curiosity or a reckless moment she could explain away later. His body wanted hers with the same direct honesty as his words, and her own answered with a need that made her tremble.
She wanted to feel his skin against hers.
The thought was clear.
So clear it frightened her.
But not enough to stop.
Her fingers found his belt.
Gordon stilled.
“Talia.”
She looked up at him while she undid the buckle.
He did not move.
Did not stop her.
His jaw tightened as she opened his fly and slipped her hand beneath the denim and cotton underneath. The moment her fingers found hot skin, Gordon stopped breathing.
Completely.
For a few seconds, he went still in a way that made her feel powerful and vulnerable at the same time.
Then his hand closed over her wrist, not pulling her away, just holding on like he needed to anchor himself.
He looked down at her, eyes dark, voice rough. “Careful.”
She stroked him slowly.
His breath left him in a harsh rush.
“Talia,” he said again, lower this time, “careful, or I might not be able to stop myself from ravishing you against that wall.”
Heat flashed through her.
Talia licked her lips and kept touching him.
Not a mistake.
Not confusion.
A dare.
His gaze dropped to her mouth, then lifted to her eyes.
She saw the moment he decided to show her that he meant what he said.
Gordon kissed her once, hard and deep, then moved fast.
His hands found the button of her jeans. He paused just long enough for her to stop him.
She did not.
He opened them, pushing the denim down her legs with a focus that made her breath shake. Then he dropped to one knee and tugged off one boot, then the other. His hands were warm against her calves, her ankles, careful even in the middle of all that hunger.
When one leg was free of her jeans, he rose with sudden strength, hooked his arms beneath her knees, and lifted her as if she weighed nothing.
Talia gasped and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.
Gordon carried her back against the wall, bracing her there with his body. The cool surface pressed through her shirt. His heat surrounded her. His jeans brushed her bare thighs, rough and intimate, adding a sharp little thrill to every movement.
He paused.
Even now, with her legs around him and his breathing ragged against her cheek, he paused.
His eyes searched hers.
Asking.
Talia answered by pulling his mouth to hers.
She kissed him this time.
No hesitation.
No apology.
No professional distance left to hide behind.
Gordon groaned into her mouth, and then there was nothing but him.
Their bodies joined slowly.
Talia’s head fell back against the wall as the first deep press of him stole the air from her lungs. Her fingers dug into his shoulders. Gordon went still again, his forehead dropping against hers, both of them shaking at the feeling.
For a moment, neither moved.
They only breathed together, caught in the shock of contact.
Then he shifted.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Talia’s eyes fluttered closed.
The rough denim of his jeans rubbed against her skin because he had not pushed them down far, an unexpected layer of texture that made the bare heat of him feel even more intimate.
Every movement sent sensation rolling through her.
Every kiss deepened it. Every broken breath from Gordon told her he was as lost as she was.
They moved together in that dim storage building, pressed against the wall among saddles and ropes and supplies meant for work while their bodies made something wild and private out of the morning.
Gordon kissed her like he was trying to memorize her.
Talia kissed him like she had already failed to forget.
He held her firmly, keeping her steady as his rhythm grew less careful. She clung to him, letting her hands move through his hair and over his neck.
She felt everything.
The hard strength of him.
The heat.
The way his breath shuddered when she whispered his name.
The way his body seemed to fight for control even as his desire pushed him closer to losing it.
Talia felt herself climbing, higher and higher, until the world narrowed to the place where they were joined and the sound of Gordon breathing against her skin.
She pulled her mouth from his and pressed her cheek to his.
Her breathing came fast now, too fast to hide.
Gordon’s was no better.
“Talia,” he rasped.
She closed her eyes.
The sensations took her.
Her body tightened around him, pleasure breaking through her in waves so strong she had to bite her lip to keep from crying out.
Gordon moved faster, drawing out every pulse of her release as his own control shattered.
His grip tightened, his body surging into hers as he buried a harsh groan against her shoulder.
Talia held on.
She wanted to make sound. Wanted to let herself be as undone as she felt.
But they were still on the ranch. Still in a storage building. Still close enough that anyone could drive or stroll past, and she had already made enough mistakes at Stanley Ranch without being caught literally with her pants down.
So she bit her lip and clung to him until the intensity of the pleasure eased.
Until the rush faded into tremors.
Until Gordon’s breathing slowed against her neck.
For a while, neither of them moved.
They stayed there, wrapped around each other, bodies still connected, hearts racing, the air around them changed in a way Talia could not name yet.
She did not want to move.
Moving would end it.
Not just the physical connection. That was part of it, yes. But more than that, moving meant admitting what had happened. Looking at it. Naming it. Deciding what came after.
For a few stolen seconds, she wanted only to stay there with his arms around her and pretend the world outside the storage building did not exist.
But it did.
Eventually, Gordon lifted his head.
His eyes met hers.
Whatever she expected to see there, triumph was not it.
Neither was regret.
He looked stunned.
Soft.
Reverent.
Like she had given him something he did not know how to hold.
Slowly, carefully, he withdrew from her.
Talia’s breath caught at the loss.
Gordon lowered her feet to the ground, but the second he released some of her weight, her knees threatened to betray her.
His arms came around her waist immediately.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured.
She believed him.
That was the problem.
Their eyes met again.
Talia knew then, with terrifying clarity, that everything between them had changed.
This had not been only lust.
She had wanted it to be. She had tried to make it that. A physical answer to a physical need. A reckless moment between two consenting adults who could put themselves back together afterward and pretend nothing permanent had shifted.
But Gordon looked at her like she was not something he had taken.
He looked at her like she was something he cherished.
That was much more dangerous.
He lifted one hand and touched her face.
Then he kissed her.
Not like before.
Not hungry.
Not desperate.
Gently.
Reverently.
Talia’s eyes burned.
She closed them before he could see too much.
Gordon brushed his mouth over hers once more, then rested his forehead against hers.
“I didn’t plan that,” he said quietly.
“I know.”
“I don’t regret it.”
She opened her eyes.
His face was close, too close for lies to stand comfortably between them.
She whispered, “Neither do I.”
Something moved in his expression.
Hope, maybe.
Or wonder.
Talia looked away before it undid her.
Gordon did not push.
He only helped her put herself back together, careful with every touch.
He gathered her underwear and jeans, helped her step into them, handed her boots over one at a time.
He fixed his own clothing after, watching her like he wanted to say a hundred things and was choosing, mercifully, to say none of them yet.
When she was dressed again, Talia smoothed her shirt with trembling hands.
Gordon stepped closer and gently caught one of those hands in his.
She looked up.
He did not smile.
He only held her hand for one breath.
Then another.
Outside, the ranch kept moving.
Inside, Talia knew there was no going back to who they had been before.