Chapter 8 #2
My lungs finally remember their purpose.
“See?” I say, too brightly. “Easy.”
Tex’s gaze pins me. “Nothing about you is easy.”
The quiet words aren’t teasing, just a statement.
My throat goes dry. “Is that a complaint?”
His eyes flick to my mouth, then back to my eyes. “No.” The word lands with the certainty of a rock. “It’s not.”
That should make me run, but instead, it makes my pulse race.
I don’t think. I step into him, fist curling in the front of his jacket, and kiss him like the decision has already been made somewhere deeper than my mind.
It isn’t neat or cautious. It’s all hunger and collision, teeth grazing, breaths tangling. I expect him to pull back.
He doesn’t.
Tex groans, the sound low and tortured, and it rolls through me like a spark finding dry kindling. His hands come alive, firm and sure, sliding over my coat as if he needs to feel me everywhere at once, as if he’s reassuring himself that I’m real.
“Jane,” he says, a warning threaded tight with restraint.
“Tex. Please. This feels… so good.”
Something dark and decisive flashes in his eyes.
He moves us back until the fence presses cool and solid against my spine, his body bracketing mine, close enough that every breath feels shared.
The contrast between the cold at my back and the heat of him in front of me makes everything sharper and brighter in a good way.
“Tell me if anythin’ doesn’t feel right, okay?” His voice is steady, even if the rest of him isn’t.
I nod enthusiastically, wanting more of these sensations. More of his touch. More of him. “I will. I promise.”
My consent is all he needs, and his head dips to mine.
His mouth claims mine again, deeper and slower this time, unraveling rather than taking. Then he trails kisses down my jaw, my throat, lingering like he’s memorizing me. My head falls back, and a soft, helpless sound slips out when his hands drift lower.
When his thigh slides between mine, my body instinctively responds, hips tilting to grind against him. A jolt of desire courses through me, sending heat to my core. My hands clutch his shoulders as if I’m holding onto a lifeline.
“Tex,” I breathe, my voice laced with a mix of need and curiosity.
His thigh presses harder between my legs, his mouth brushing my ear. “Ride my leg, darlin’. Let go.”
His voice is commanding yet gentle, urging me to lose myself in the moment. He tightens his grip on my hips, guiding my movements. He knows what I need, even if I don't.
“I've got you, Jane. Let me give you this.”
My hips move with more urgency. Tension stretches my muscles, and my breathing is choppy. He holds me tightly, his thigh pressed firmly against me, driving me closer to the edge.
“That’s it, darlin’,” he says, his voice low and encouraging. “Feel it. Feel me.”
My body trembles as my hips move faster, and I bite my lower lip to keep the sounds in.
“Tex,” I moan, my voice filled with need and surrender.
He helps me, guiding my hips, giving me the exact pressure and friction I need, his eyes dark, his focus solely on my pleasure. “Let go, Jane. Let me feel you.”
And in this stolen moment, a moment that I instigated, with the winter sunlight creating a soft haze around us, I do as he says.
My body shudders, and I cry out as pleasure overwhelms me. Tex holds me tightly, supporting me as I ride out the waves. My breath is ragged as the pulses ease into gentle throbs, and my body falls limp against his.
He stays right there, steady and solid, holding me through it until I can breathe again, until the world stops tilting.
For a long second, we’re forehead to forehead, breath mingling, neither of us pretending this didn’t just change something.
His thumb brushes under my chin, gentle now. “Still with me?”
I nod, dazed and overwhelmed. “Yeah.”
My body tingles, and my skin feels too tight. With every breath, I inhale the memory of what just happened. I can’t stop replaying the way he held me, how his voice sounded when he said, Let go, Jane. Let me feel you.
“Good,” he says quietly, as if my pleasure was his greatest achievement.
His mouth curves in a slow, wicked smile, giving me a glimpse of the suppressed humor just under the surface.
It startles me. Not because it’s sexy (though it is), but because I’ve seen that smile before.
Not aimed at me. Thrown casually at the ranch hands when they rib each other.
A dry comment under his breath that makes someone snort coffee.
A quiet, perfectly timed line that lands harder because he doesn’t waste words.
Tex has a sense of humor. It’s just… buried. Packed away under discipline and responsibility and whatever he brought home from the military that taught him not to be careless with joy.
With them, he lets it slip. A flash of wit. A crooked grin. Then it’s gone again, locked back down.
With me, he’s different; careful and intentional. As if he’s afraid humor might tip into something he can’t control, or that he’ll break me if he’s not paying attention.
My chest aches at the thought because I recognize that instinct. The way you shrink parts of yourself to keep other people safe. The way you file down edges, tell fewer jokes, swallow laughter before it gets loud.
He’s helping me take up space that fits me. And if I’m brave enough, maybe I can help him remember how to take some back for himself.
I summon a smile, ignoring the unexpected chaos swirling inside me as I meet his gaze. “Yeah,” I say again, softer this time. “I’m with you.”
That wicked smile fades, and concern shadows his eyes, as if he’s seeing everything I’m not saying.
We’ve known each other for less than a week. I have no idea what happens next, but I’m starting to suspect I’m in over my head.
And the scariest part is… I don’t think I want out.