Chapter 26
26
D ylan sat in the worn recliner that had been his dad’s favourite and stretched his legs out toward the blazing fire.
“Here’s your wine. Cheers.” Sam touched the rim of her glass to his before raising it to her lips and taking a sip.
He gulped the wine without tasting it, wishing he could tear his gaze away from her mouth while simultaneously wishing for those lips to do a whole lot more.
“Cheers,” he murmured, knowing that for as long as he lived, he would never figure women out.
Since their ride, Sam had done her best to appear cheerful and relaxed, the exact opposite of her demeanour when they arrived.
She made small talk over dinner and had appeared genuinely interested in his plans for this place, his pride and joy. He hadn’t felt so comfortable in a woman’s presence in a long time and knew now would be as good a time as any to broach the subject of her ongoing contract.
“Samantha, we need to talk.”
To his amazement, she laughed and reached for his glass. “Are you ever going to lighten up and call me Sam again?”
He could’ve sworn she sashayed across the room, setting their glasses on the mantelpiece before turning to face him, an inviting, coy smile playing across her lips.
“Well?”
He leaned back in the chair and placed his hands behind his head, admiring her silhouette with the fire at her back. As if basking in his appreciation, she stretched her arms back toward the heat and rubbed her hands together, the simple action pulling her shirt taut against her chest and outlining the curve of her breasts.
Heat surged through his body as he fought the impulse to drag her down to the sheepskin rug in front of the fire and tear open her shirt. “You think I need to lighten up?”
“I know you do.”
Reading his mind, she sank onto the rug and his fantasy took flight. He imagined peeling the clothes from her body, exposing the skin beneath to his hands and mouth, before making them both climb the walls with mind-blowing sex.
“Dylan?”
Even the soft, breathy way she uttered his name had him focussing on all the wrong cues.
If he didn’t know any better, he could’ve sworn she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
He practically leaped from the chair and strode toward the door before he did something really dumb, like join her on that damn rug.
“I’m going to bed. See you in the morning.”
“Mind if I join you?”
Her whisper stopped him dead in his tracks.
“What did you say?” He turned, knowing his fantasy must’ve turned into an auditory hallucination, yet wishing he’d heard correctly.
She didn’t respond immediately and he knew he must be going mad. However, as he took a step to walk out the door, she held out her hand to him.
“Come here, Dylan.”
He crossed the room in an instant, sank to his knees in front of the crackling fire, and pulled her into his arms.
“Don’t just sit there.” Her lips curved into a tempting smile. “Aren’t you going to kiss me?”
Dylan didn’t need further encouragement as he lowered his head and covered her mouth in a searing kiss.
She moaned, and he lost all sense of control, plundering her mouth with the abandon of a man starved. He pulled her flush against him, sealing their bodies together, desperate to feel her pressed against him.
She melded into him, her hands clamping around his neck. She stroked the nape of his neck, her fingernails lightly grazing his skin while her mouth nibbled hot kisses across his jaw. Sparks flew—and not just from the sap of a log that suddenly ignited in the hearth.
In a strangled voice, he managed to ask, “Are you sure about this?”
“No more questions,” she whispered against the side of his mouth. “Tonight is about you and me. Think you can handle it?”
She guided his hands to her breasts, leaving him in little doubt as to the exact parts she wanted him to handle, and sending the last of his chivalry up the chimney in a puff of smoke.
Before he could answer, she pulled him toward her for another kiss and they sank onto the downy softness of the rug. He claimed her lips, feasting on the sweetness of liquor and delicious Sam.
“I want you, Sam,” he murmured, as he undid each button on her shirt before sliding his hand beneath the scrap of lace that encased her breasts, his fingers stroking the soft skin until he thought he’d lose his mind.
Sam arched toward Dylan as his thumb grazed her nipple, shards of electrifying fire shooting through her body. She lost control the moment he first touched her… and she loved every minute of it sheer abandon, revelling in finally giving in to the pulsating need between them.
“You pick a fine time to finally call me Sam.” She gasped as his fingers momentarily left her breast and splayed across her stomach before moving lower, creating an instant yearning that wouldn’t be satisfied with anything less than his naked body joined with hers.
She’d never been this turned on, and the powerless feeling of being swept along in the wake of their shared passion left her breathless and clamouring for more.
“Timing is everything, sweetheart.”
He gathered her to him and cradled her, sensing her need, poised to give her everything she wanted.
She stared at the man she loved in the flickering firelight, wondering if the tenderness she glimpsed in his eyes was a figment of her overheated imagination or wishful thinking.
Though in this moment, she didn’t want to waste time analysing. Dylan’s kiss, his touch, had set her alight and every inch of her body burned, wanting more. Wanting it all.
“Trust me,” he whispered, brushing a wayward curl back from her face before tracing a slow, deliberate line from her temple to her lips, his finger skimming over her bottom lip repeatedly, firing her desire with each gentle stroke.
She strained toward him and he stilled her by splaying his palm over her heart. Could he feel how furiously it beat for him? Did he understand the significance of his hand placement?
He owned her heart.
Her soul.
This dour, workaholic, gorgeous man had become her everything, and she intended on proving it to him tonight.
“I trust you,” she murmured, as he rose, holding her in his arms, and walked through the old homestead toward the master bedroom.