Chapter 7
Vanessa
Vanessa stood in her bathroom late at night, staring at her reflection and wondering when she'd become the kind of woman who kissed cowboys in horse barns.
Her lips were still swollen from Dustin's mouth, and every time she touched them, she could taste him.
It made her throb in places she'd been trying to ignore for two weeks.
Two weeks. She'd known him for two weeks, and she was standing in her bathroom thinking about the way his hand had felt on her breast, the way he'd promised to taste every inch of her.
The way she was pretty sure she was falling in love with him.
She'd been pacing her bedroom, listening to the sounds of him moving around in his room, knowing he was probably as wired as she was. The kiss had changed everything between them, crossed a line they'd both been avoiding since the day he'd moved in.
And God, what a kiss it had been.
She'd never been the kind of woman who made impulsive decisions, especially when it came to men.
But the way he'd looked at her in that barn, like she was brave and beautiful and worth wanting, had made her throw aside every careful plan and take what she'd been craving since the moment she'd opened her front door and seen him standing there.
Now she was paying for it with sleepless desire and the knowledge that he was down the hall, probably thinking about her mouth and her hands in his hair and the way she'd pressed against him like she was trying to get as close as physically possible.
Like she wanted to crawl inside his skin and live there.
Her phone buzzed with a text message, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.
Can't sleep either?
Dustin. Her pulse kicked up as she typed back: No.
Want some company?
She stared at the message, her thumb hovering over the keyboard.
This was it. The moment where she either played it safe and pretended the kiss had been a momentary lapse in judgment, or she opened her door and let whatever was building between them burn through the walls she'd built around her heart.
Living room.
She changed out of her conservative pajamas into shorts that showed more leg than she usually revealed and a tank top that hugged her curves in ways that made her feel sexy instead of practical. No bra. If she was going to do this, she might as well commit to it.
Dustin was already waiting when she padded barefoot into the living room.
He'd changed too. Jeans hung low on his hips and a t-shirt that emphasized the broad line of his shoulders.
His hair was mussed like he'd been running his hands through it, and when he looked up at her, his gaze tracked over her body in a way that made her skin burn.
She watched his eyes darken when he realized she wasn't wearing a bra. Watched his jaw clench. Watched him grip the arm of the couch like he was holding himself back from reaching for her.
"Hi," she said, suddenly uncertain now that they were face to face without the romantic backdrop of horses and sunset.
"Hi yourself." His voice had that rasp again, the one that did things to her pulse. "Come here."
She crossed the room slowly, hyperaware of the way the soft cotton of her shorts moved against her thighs, how his gaze followed every step. When she reached the couch where he was sitting, he caught her hand and tugged her down beside him.
Close. So close she could feel the heat coming off his body. So close she could see the way his chest rose and fell with each breath.
"We should talk about what happened," she said, even though talking was the last thing she wanted to do right now.
"Should we?" His thumb traced circles on the back of her hand, and the simple touch made her wet.
"We're living together. This complicates things."
"Everything about you complicates things, Vanessa." He turned toward her, and she could see the hunger in his eyes. "Doesn't mean I want to stop."
"What do you want?"
"Right now? I want to kiss you again. I want to find out if you taste as good as I remember, if you make those little sounds in the back of your throat when I touch you here." His finger traced the line of her collarbone, and she shivered.
"Dustin..."
"Tell me to stop if you don't want this. Tell me to go back to my room and pretend this afternoon never happened."
She should tell him to stop. Should be practical and cautious and protect herself from the inevitable heartbreak that came with wanting a man whose life had no room for permanence.
Except maybe it did. Maybe he felt what she felt. Maybe this crazy, impossible thing was happening to both of them, and maybe that was enough.
But his hand was on her skin and his eyes were full of promise, and she was tired of being careful.
"I don't want you to stop," she admitted.
His smile was slow and devastating. "Good. Because I've been thinking about touching you since the day I moved in, and that kiss this afternoon nearly killed me."
"Just touching?"
"Oh, baby. Touching is just the beginning of what I want to do to you."
The endearment sent heat flooding through her body. No one had ever called her that like it meant something. Her ex-boyfriends had been polite and distant, the kind of men who scheduled sex like business meetings and never made her feel like they might die if they didn't have her.
Dustin looked at her like he might combust if he didn't get his hands on her soon.
"Show me," she said, and watched his eyes go molten.
He leaned forward and kissed her, slow and deep and thorough, like he had all the time in the world to learn the taste of her mouth. His hands slid into her hair, tilting her head to give him better access, and she melted into him with a soft sigh of surrender.
This was different from the desperate kiss in the barn. This was deliberate and unhurried, a thorough exploration that made her toes curl and her hands fist in the soft cotton of his shirt. When he finally pulled back, she was breathing hard and aching for more.
"Better than I remembered," he murmured against her lips. "Much better."
His hands moved to her waist, thumbs tracing the strip of skin between her shorts and tank top, and she arched into the touch. Every nerve ending in her body seemed to be connected directly to his fingers.
"You're so soft," he said, and his voice had gone lower. "So beautiful."
No one had ever made her feel beautiful with just words and gentle touches. She'd always been praised for her intelligence, her competence, her ability to handle responsibility. But Dustin looked at her like she was a work of art he wanted to worship with his hands and mouth.
"I want to touch you," she admitted, her hands already sliding under his shirt to find skin and muscle.
"Touch me anywhere you want. I'm yours."
Yours. The word sent a thrill through her that had nothing to do with physical desire and everything to do with the way he said it. Like he meant it. Like being hers was what he'd been waiting for his whole life.
She pushed his shirt up and over his head, revealing the body she'd been imagining for weeks.
He was beautiful in a purely masculine way.
Broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, chest and arms sculpted by years of physical work rather than gym sessions.
A thin line of hair disappeared into the waistband of his jeans, and she followed it with her fingers until he groaned and caught her wrist.
"Careful, or this will be over before we get to the good part."
"What's the good part?"
"Let me show you."
He lifted her easily, settling her across his lap so she was straddling him, the heat of his arousal pressing against her through their clothes.
The position made her feel exposed and powerful at the same time.
She could see the way his breathing changed when she rocked her hips, could feel how much he wanted her in the way his hands tightened on her waist.
Could feel how hard he was beneath her, thick and ready, separated only by thin layers of fabric.
"This okay?" he asked, giving her a chance to change her mind even though she could see the effort it was costing him.
"More than okay."
He kissed her again, deeper this time, while his hands slid up under her tank top to trace the curve of her ribs. When his thumbs brushed the underside of her breasts, she broke the kiss.
"Please," she said, not even sure what she was asking for.
"I've got you. Just let me take care of you."
His hands moved higher, palming her breasts, and she arched into the touch with a sound that would have embarrassed her with anyone else. But this was Dustin, who looked at her like she was everything he'd ever wanted, and nothing had ever felt better than being in his arms while he touched her.
She rocked against him, seeking more contact, more friction, more of the building pressure that was making it hard to think about anything except the way he was making her feel. His hands stilled on her breasts, and when she looked at him, his eyes were molten.
"If you keep doing that, I'm going to lose what's left of my self-control."
"Maybe I want you to lose control."
"Vanessa..." Her name was a warning and a prayer all at once.
"I'm not fragile, Dustin. I won't break."
Heat flared in his eyes. Possession and desire and depth that made her heart stutter. "No, you won't. But I might."
He stood up with her still in his arms, and she wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her down the hall toward her bedroom.
Every step sent delicious friction through her body, the ridge of his erection pressing against her core through their clothes, and by the time he set her down beside her bed, she was trembling with need.
Already wet. Already aching. Already half out of her mind wanting him.
"You sure about this?" he asked, hands framing her face with a gentleness that contrasted with the hunger in his eyes.