38. Tessa
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Tessa
For a moment after I say the words, neither of us moves.
The night feels impossibly still around us, the faint music from inside the rodeo hall drifting through the open doors while the cold February air brushes across my cheeks.
I love you.
The phrase hangs between us as fragile and newly discovered.
Nash’s hands are still resting lightly at my waist, as though he is afraid I might vanish if he holds on too tightly.
I understand the feeling.
Two weeks ago, everything between us felt like a complicated performance, an arrangement built from rivalry, stubbornness, and a plan neither of us fully thought through.
Now the ground beneath that arrangement has disappeared entirely.
And what remains is… this.
I exhale slowly.
“You look stunned,” I say.
His mouth curves slightly. “I am stunned.”
“Because I said it?”
“Because you said it back.”
A quiet laugh escapes me before I can stop it. “You did confess first.”
“Yes,” he says. “While standing on a frozen road like an idiot.”
“You were a very convincing idiot.”
“That’s good to know.” He rubs the insides of my wrists. “Do you want to get out of here?”
“What about your date?”
He cocks a brow. “My date is Nell. I don’t think she’s going to miss me.”
I smirk and shake my head. Of course it’s my grandmother. That’s just so her. “Okay, let’s go.”
“We’ll go back to mine. No sneaking around because of your uncle tonight.”
I roll my eyes. “I like the sound of that.”
The drive to the McCoy ranch feels strangely quiet.
Buckhorn disappears behind us in a wash of warm lights and laughter while the road stretches out across the dark valley, the snow on the fields reflecting the pale shine of the moon.
Nash drives with one hand on the wheel and the other loosely threaded through my fingers, as if letting go might undo everything we just said.
For once, neither of us seems particularly interested in filling the silence, which is unusual for us.
“You’re very quiet,” I say eventually.
“I’m thinking.”
“That seems dangerous.”
He huffs a quiet laugh. “I’m thinking about the fact that two hours ago I assumed you hated me.”
“That was an exaggeration.”
“You ran.”
“You confessed your love, and then detonated a town council meeting,” I remind him. “My reaction was proportionate.”
“Fair.”
The truck turns onto the gravel road leading to the McCoy ranch, the familiar outline of the house appearing ahead through the dark.
My stomach tightens slightly.
“What?” Nash asks.
“I’m considering the logistics.”
“Of what?”
“Walking into a house occupied by your entire family.”
He glances at me with obvious amusement. “Relax.”
“You say that as though your brothers have never appeared at inconvenient moments.”
“That’s a fair concern.”
The truck rolls to a quiet stop near the barn instead of the front of the house.
I glance at him.
“Strategic parking?”
“Extremely.”
We step out into the cold night air. The ranch house beams warmly in the distance, though most of the windows are dark.
Nash tilts his head slightly, listening.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
“Checking for signs of life.”
“And?”
“I think we’re safe.”
“That seems optimistic.”
He grins. “Come on.”
We slip through the back door quietly, stepping into the mudroom where boots and coats are scattered in the familiar chaos of a house full of ranchers. But everyone is either out or in bed, so we can head towards Nash’s room without having to awkwardly explain ourselves to anyone.
His room is warm and faintly smells of cedar and laundry detergent, the low lamp on the dresser casting soft light across the space.
We simply stand there, looking at each other.
Nash steps closer, his hands settling gently at my waist again.
“You know,” he murmurs, “I had this whole speech planned.”
“That sounds ominous.”
“Something heartfelt and romantic.”
“What happened to it?”
“Honestly?”
“Yes.”
“I forgot all of it when you said you loved me.”
Warmth spreads through my chest again, the words still feeling new every time they echo in my mind.
“You’re terrible at speeches,” I say softly.
“Probably.”
I step closer to him, feeling the rhythmic beat of his pulse beneath my fingertips, the warmth of his body radiating through the fabric of his shirt. Nothing else exists in this moment, and I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to be closer to someone in my life.
Nash doesn’t waste a second. His hand slides behind my neck, pulling me toward him, and before I can even process it, his lips are on mine.
The kiss isn’t gentle—it’s hungry. Like he’s been waiting for this moment forever, and the second our lips meet, I realize I’ve been holding my breath, waiting for exactly the same thing.
His hand moves to my waist, drawing me in so close that I can feel the heat of his body through the fabric of my dress. I can’t stop the little gasp that escapes me, and Nash deepens the kiss, his lips curving into a smile against mine, like he knows just how badly this is making me lose control.
Maybe it’s me making it worse when I tangle my fingers in his shirt, pulling him even closer. But honestly? I don’t care. I want him closer. Now.
Then his mouth finds mine again.
This kiss carries none of the careful hesitation from earlier. It is urgent and heated, the kind that pushes every sensible thought straight out of my head. My back bumps softly against the wall, and heat spreads everywhere he touches me.
Nash moves closer, filling the space between us with solid warmth and quiet strength. Every inch of him is firm, as though he has finally stopped pretending restraint is possible.
My fingers curl into the front of his shirt, pulling him nearer even though there is barely any distance left to close. His hand slides slowly down my thigh, rough fingertips catching the hem of my dress and lifting it higher until the cold air brushes across bare skin.
The contrast steals the breath from my lungs.
Nash notices instantly. “Tessa,” he murmurs, my name rough in his throat.
For a brief second, it sounds like he might try to gather himself, as if some final piece of self-control is still holding the line between us.
I close that space before he can.
“Don’t,” I say quietly.
His expression shifts at that. Heat, relief, a flash of wicked understanding that sends a shiver through me. His forehead rests briefly against mine, breath warm against my lips.
“You have no idea what you’re asking for,” he says softly.
I meet his gaze without flinching.
“Oh,” I reply, tightening my grip on his shirt. “I think I do.”
And then I kiss him hard.
He shoves my dress to my hips, and a startled breath escapes me when his hand finds me through my thin lace panties. His palm presses there, and the heat of the contact sends a sharp rush of awareness through me.
My head tips back against the wall, breath catching as the tension builds in slow, relentless waves.
“Nash,” I manage, the sound barely more than a breath.
His relentless touch curls my toes. With my clit between his fingers, I can’t catch my damn breath.
“I like feeling what I do to you, Tessa,” he growls against my ear. “So damn wet for me.”
His hand slides to my thigh and lifts me before I fully realize what he’s doing. The movement is effortless, like I weigh nothing to him, and instinct takes over as I wrap my legs around his waist. My dress gathers around my hips, completely forgotten as I cling to his shoulders for balance.
The heat between us is immediate and overwhelming. I can feel how much he wants me, the solid pressure of him against me sending a sharp, electric need through my entire body.
A tremor runs through me.
“Please,” I breathe, the word slipping out before pride has a chance to intervene. My fingers tighten against his shoulders as I meet his eyes. “Now.”
Nash doesn’t hesitate. He half undresses himself in one fluid movement, his eyes fixed on mine the entire time.
One sharp buck of his hips and he’s inside me, causing me to cry out, biting down on my lip to keep from screaming his name loud enough for the whole house to hear.
His reaction is just as immediate.
A rough groan escapes him as his forehead drops briefly to my shoulder, his breath warm against my neck while he holds me there, like letting go isn’t even an option.
“Fucking hell, Tessa,” he mutters through clenched teeth, holding me firmly against the wall as he begins to move. The rhythm builds quickly, strong and unrestrained, each motion pulling another helpless reaction from my body. “You feel incredible.”
I cling to him, my arms looped around his neck as I press my face close to his ear, my breath coming in uneven bursts. I feel consumed in flames, wound tight, trembling, so close it’s almost unbearable.
“Nash…” I manage, the word breaking apart on my breath as the feeling rises higher and higher. “I…”
His mouth brushes my throat, the scrape of his teeth sending a shiver through me.
“Let go,” he murmurs roughly. “I’ve got you.”
And I do.
The sensation breaks over me all at once, sharp and overwhelming, my whole body shuddering as his name escapes my lips. I cling to him while the wave rolls through me, every muscle tightening as the feeling crests and spills over.
Nash keeps moving, holding me firmly against the wall as the rhythm carries him with me. His breath turns rough against my skin, the control he’s been clinging to slipping away with every second until a low groan tears from his throat.
He pulls me closer as the tension finally catches him too, his body going rigid before the release hits.
For a few seconds, we stay there like that, pressed together, both of us breathing hard while the last tremors fade.
Everything has changed. For real now. Me and Nash have confessed our love for one another.
Who the hell knows where we go from here.