I pat her back instead of skimming along her skin like I’d like to, trying to give the impression of a neighborly goodbye when I feel anything but neighborly to the spitfire in my arms.
“Shay, we can’t. You know that as well as I do.” I’m trying to be kind. I’m trying my damnedest to do the right thing as I say the words softly over her head because I can’t look her in the eye as I speak them.
“Luke,” she whispers again, and it nearly breaks my heart. It’s just my name, but I can hear all the other meanings behind it.
“This was . . . uh, thanks for dinner. Leave me a note or text me if you want.” It’s ridiculously weak for what I’d like to say, but my brain is fogged over, swimming in her aura. Still, I know I sound like an awkward kid with no game on his first date.
I want to make plans to see her again, but that’s only playing with fire, so I let her go. I stare at her ass as she climbs aboard Embers, noticing that just like I’m a Wranglers man, she’s a Wranglers girl, but lift my eyes just in time for her to turn around.
Her hazel eyes catch my blues, and she gives me that heartstopping smile again. “Thanks for the dinner date.”
The word date hangs heavy between us, and I can feel that she’s pushing at me to see what I’ll say, what I’ll do if she throws out some obvious signals.
“I appreciate the smashed pumpkin, too.” I hold up the jar of orange-brown puree she brought with her. “I think I’ll have it for dessert tonight.”
She nods, soft and sweet, but there’s a hint of sadness in her eyes that I hate. I especially hate knowing that I put it there. But really, it’s not my fault and not hers, either. But I don’t want to make problems for her, and seeing her again will undoubtedly do that.
“Let me know what you think,” she says, her gaze drifting to the jar, but it feels like she’s asking for more insight into my mind. And she might be feeling a little something in the air between us tonight, but I’d bet she’d be shocked by the filthy thoughts I’m wishing I could give in to.
Chapter 5
Shayanne
This is, by far, the stupidest thing I’ve ever done in my life. Bold, brash, brave, and as stupid as a cow looking up into the rain and drowning. But I’ve committed to doing it anyway, even if only to myself.
With Daddy gone gambling and the boys all out in the far fields for the day, I’d thought about going to my tree. But I knew that wasn’t where I really wanted to go, and after a good pep talk, I decided to follow my gut.
I look left and then right, though if anyone were nearby, I would’ve already seen them and they would’ve already caught me. But there’s nothing for acres besides green grass and dots of cattle to my left and the old country road to my right. I bend down, carefully pulling the two lengths of barbed wire apart so I can sneak between them without getting caught by a sharp barb.
Booted feet firmly on the other side, I breathe a sigh of relief, knowing there’s no turning back now. I’m in ‘enemy territory’. But in for an ounce, in for a pound, and I’m going whole hog.
I cross the acres, though they seem like miles, until I see the dull shine of a metal barn against the horizon. I pass it slightly then loop back toward it, keeping my eyes open to make sure no one is around, but the coast looks clear.
I skip the sliding door, assuming it’ll be loud on its track, and choose the regular door off to the side. Luckily, it’s unlocked and opens easily, without a sound. Whoever does the maintenance here knows their business.
Inside, the lights are on, but compared to the bright sunlight, it’s dim and my eyes take a moment to adjust.
“Hello?” I call out.
I’m greeted with only silence and defeat seems suddenly imminent.
I’m such a dork. I’d considered getting caught, I’d considered getting turned down, and of course, I’d thought about what success might look like. But this, a total strikeout, with me standing in the middle of an empty barn, wasn’t on my possibility list.
But just before I leave, I hear a faint tapping and hope breaks free from its restraints in my chest again. I follow the sound deeper into the barn, carefully peeking around the corner and into the stalls as I pass by.
I find success in the back corner. Luke is in some sort of makeshift office, a stall dominated by a desk and computer. He’s working on something, his eyes focused on the glowing screen and his hand tapping out a rhythm on the desk to the music playing through his earbuds.
Jackpot! I’m the youngest sibling of three brothers. I know how to play this game. I slowly and methodically move closer, easing my way toward him without catching his attention like a bobcat until . . .
Boom!
I hop up on the desk right beside him, my denim-covered ass sitting down on his paperwork and a big smile on my face.
He jumps a foot into the air, yelling, “What the fuck?”
His eyes meet mine, and I grin as I see the anger of the jump scare melt away to surprised recognition, then delight, then confusion. He pulls the earbuds from his ears. “Shayanne?”
I wiggle my fingers at him in a silly little wave. “Hi! Whatcha listening to?”
“Uh, hi. What are you doing here?” he asks, but his mouth is already breaking into a smile. He’s happy to see me, even if he is confused about why I’m here. “And I don’t even know, just an old country tune.”
“Well, I wanted to see what you thought of my pumpkin puree,” I say, using the excuse I’d preplanned for this ambush. “You ate it, right? For dessert?”
“Pumpkin puree?” he repeats. “I did. It was delicious,” he says automatically, all polite like his mama taught him, but it also seems truthful.
“I know. My smashed pumpkin is the best there is. I’m not bragging. It’s just true,” I say, shrugging like perfecting that recipe didn’t take two seasons and about ten different variations.
He leans back in his chair, hands linked over his belly as he laughs. “Humble much?” He looks long and lean, knees and elbows spread wide like he’s taking up as much space as possible, like he wants me to see him in all his cowboy glory.
He’s got a pair of jeans so worn there’s a peekaboo tear high up on his leg, but his pocket sadly covers any bit of skin I might’ve gotten to see, and a white T-shirt with a logo so faded I can’t even read it anymore, but it fits him like a second skin. But most importantly, he’s wearing that smile that’s some mix of cocky and sweet that does it for me. He’s comfortable, confident in a way I may never be.
He looks around the office, like he just remembered where we are again. “Seriously, though, what are you doing here? Trying to get me killed by one of your brothers?”
He doesn’t sound scared in the least, but I shake my head anyway. “No, I was thinking about you and wanted to see you again.”
There’s a lot tied up in those simple words, a question and a promise. At the tree last time, his name was a promise, a plea, and I could hear the hesitation in his voice when he pushed me away.
So I haven’t been able to accept that. Now, I’m being as blatant as I can be. I’m already going further than I ever have before with putting myself out there, and this limb is getting mighty skinny. Luke’s warned me off before, but I’m not easily led astray, not by him or by anyone. And I’ve never been accused of being subtle or scared.
“You were thinking of me?” he parrots back like he’s still processing that idea and deciding on whether it’s a good thing or a bad thing. He swallows like he’s trying to keep words in, but they come out anyway. “What were you thinking?”
His voice drops a bit when he asks me that, deeper and rougher, and I imagine it’s his bedroom voice.
I squirm a bit, crinkling the papers I’m sitting on but needing to squeeze my thighs together for some relief at the ache that’s already building from being this close to him. Luke’s eyes follow the movement, and the pull between us snaps back into place, filling the air with crackles like a summer sky primed for lightning.
This is it. The moment I’ve dre
amed of since I was a little girl. He’s going to push me back on his desk and take me like in one of my soap operas. I can feel it in my bones that everything’s about to change. For me, for him, for us. If only he’ll let it be.
I’m not stupid or naïve. I knew that he wanted me under the tree. His jeans certainly didn’t hide that at times. And he all but acknowledged the buzz in the air, but it was with a refusal to do anything about it. For some reason, my heart doesn’t care that he’s not brave enough to battle our names. It’s beating so hard there’s a roar in my ears.
“Luke,” I say again, and even over the roar, I know my voice is too soft and breathy, the desire woven in the single syllable.
He pushes back from the desk, scooting his chair a little to the side, and suddenly, I find myself caged in by him. His hands are on the desk, his arms on either side of my legs and his knees framing my feet where they dangle. He looks up at me, his eyes diamond hard and his jaw working, making a bump appear and disappear beneath the scruff.
Shit just got real, dangerously so.
“What were you thinking, Shayanne?”
It’s an order, but a pleading one, to put us out of our misery and either move this chemical reaction forward or to stop it before it combusts. I choose both, to move us leaps and bounds forward with fiery flames lighting the way. I put my hands on his shoulders, feeling the tight muscles there as I bravely tell him everything.
“I was thinking about your dancing me around the floor at Hank’s and how it made my whole world spin. How you made me spin. The whole drive home, I wished our last names were different so we could just be two people who met at a bar and got along. I was thinking about you at the tree, looking like you’d been working hard, and how sexy that was.” He groans quietly at my confession, but I don’t stop.
Whole hog, I remind myself, though I’m scared I’m making a fool of myself. The little girl he’ll never see as anything more than an annoyance with a family full of assholes.
“I was thinking how much I wanted you to kiss me, not hug me like you couldn’t feel this thing between us.” I lick my lips, wanting his kiss now too. “I want you to stop being a gentleman and give me more than a nod and a tip of your hat.”
He can’t deny that he feels this, right? There’s no way this is my imagination, not with the way his jagged breath is heating the space between us.
A dirty thought wanders through my mind, wondering if he can smell my arousal, because sure as he’s damn close to me, my panties are wet with want for him.
I take a steadying breath, noting the way his eyes track the rise and fall of my breasts in my long-sleeved T-shirt. If I were a different kind of girl, I probably would’ve dressed better for a mission like this, but jeans and T-shirts are who I am, and I want him to accept that. No, I want him to want that.
Me. Plain old Shayanne Tannen. Nothing fancy, all real.
I can feel him battling himself, both wanting and not wanting me, his body and his brain at odds. Such a gentleman, but I want him wild for me, as wild as I feel right now, on the edge of something amazing.
He moves a hand to my knee, both of us watching his thumb rubbing at the soft denim, and even the slight contact feels delicious, filling me with fresh desire. More importantly, it feels big, like it’s his silent confession that he wants me too and I’ve never been wanted before. The breath I was holding, awaiting his decision, releases in a sigh.
“Shay? Are you sure?” he says, tension winding through his shoulders as he gives me an out that I don’t want. “There’s no going back from this. You know that, right?”
I tilt his chin up, forcing his eyes to mine. My voice is steady, though my stomach is full of butterflies bouncing off the walls. “Kiss me.”
Whatever control he was holding onto evaporates into the warm air at my request, and we ignite in fiery passion. He surges up from the chair, standing in front of me. He grabs at my hips, scooting me to the edge of the desk, and my thighs naturally go astride his. His hands delve into my hair, and before I can even think to be nervous, his lips are on mine.
With that first touch, I feel just how much restraint he’s been using to hold himself back from me.
His kiss is devouring, a melding of our breaths as his tongue tangles with mine, invading my mouth to explore and claim territory. I kiss him back, wanting to taste him too, explore his soft lips, and sear his mouth with my own.
“Fuck, Shay.” His moan is slightly more recognizable than my own mutterings, but it feels like we’re both jumping into the wilderness of possibilities together.
He lays kisses along my jaw and down my neck as he guides my head to give him room. It feels like dancing with him, like I somehow instinctively know what he wants me to do, though I’ve never done this dance before.
His hands cup my breasts, his thumb rubbing over my taut right nipple twice before he’s grabbing at the hem to whip the T-shirt over my head.
I gasp as the breeze from the fan licks at my bare skin, goosebumps popping up along my flesh. Luke’s rough fingertip brands me as he traces them, his eyes burning with intensity. “I want to taste each and every one of them.”
He bends down, fulfilling his promise and kissing my right wrist where I know he can feel my heart racing. He moves up, pressing his lips along my inner arms, which doesn’t sound sexy, but when Luke does it, it becomes the most amazing erogenous zone, an anticipation of where he’s going and what he’s going to do.
When he gets to my shoulder, he begins the trek down my chest to the full lushness of my breast. He’s thorough, taking his time and appreciating every square inch of my skin but doing so with searing heat that brands me with every press of his lips and lick of his tongue.
He teases at my nipple through the simple cotton fabric of my bra with his nose, nibbling at the nub while his hands slip behind my back to unhook it. The fabric drops away and I’m bared to him.
“Fucking gorgeous,” he whispers reverently before licking a loop around my nipple, tasting my skin. I grasp at the soft curls at the nape of his neck, holding him to me as I arch into his mouth.
I grab at his shirt, wanting it off, needing to be skin on skin with him. He reaches behind his neck to grab it, pulling it over his head and dropping it to the floor. He’s stunning. The strong chest I felt beneath my cheek as we hugged is topped with flat brown nipples, and the ridges of his abs are divided by a dusting of a blond happy trail that I want to follow to the promised land.
“See something you like?” he asks cockily, teasing me as he runs a rough hand over his chest. I’m jealous he’s getting a feel and I’m not, so I grab him by his belt, pulling him back close to me, and then wipe that smirk right off his face when I run my hands over his skin.
“Yes. I like.” I let the blunt edge of my nails scrape along his skin, and he shudders, making me feel powerful.
He kisses me again, our hands exploring, mapping, and burning trails along our skin. He nips at my lip, then soothes it with gentle sucking that I want him to repeat all over my body.
He presses in closer, his hand trapped between us where he’s teasing at my breast. I feel his cock pressing against my belly. He’s hard, long, and thick, and I moan in delight at the obvious proof of how much he wants me.
It’s too high to be where I need him, but my hips buck anyway, wanting and needing. I can’t stop the whine for more that comes from my throat.
Luke pulls back, looking between us at my rolling hips. “Jesus . . .”
He picks me up like I’m light as a feather, sitting back down into his chair and planting me on top of him. “Do that again. Roll your hips on me.”
I nod, moving my heated core against the ridge of his cock. Even through the two layers of denim, it’s so good. He guides my hips, pulling me up and down as we both pant. But it’s not enough. “More,” I demand, unbuttoning my own jeans. “Now.”
I don’t know where this wanton woman is coming from. Maybe Luke is drawing her out of me, but I’m on board with th
e plan for more. I’d hoped for maybe a flirty conversation today, to tempt him into seeing me again. I didn’t dream this was going to happen, but I’m so glad it is.
Luke follows my lead, undoing his belt and then his jeans, but then he sits forward and helps me stand. “Take them off. Leave your panties on.”
I kick off my boots and drop my jeans to the floor. Standing before him, mostly nude, I’m struck with a bout of nerves and pull my hair over my shoulder to hide a bit. I fidget with it nervously, already knowing I won’t stop. I want this, want him.
While I undressed, Luke stayed in the chair but has shoved his jeans down his hips, his cock still covered in cotton boxer briefs. He palms himself through the cotton, like a magician about to do his big reveal, prolonging the moment before the oohs and ahhs.
I watch, mesmerized and wanting to see him, feel him, taste him.
“Shay,” he says, soft and low, commanding my attention. Though my eyes don’t want to, they flick up to meet his. “Have you ever?” He lifts his chin, gesturing toward his cock.
I bite my lip and consider lying but answer truthfully. “No, but I want to.” An embarrassing thought runs through my head, and I know I’m blushing to the roots of my hair. “Oh, God, did I do something wrong? How did you know that?”
I cover my face with my hands, feeling the heat for an entirely different reason. But before I can back out, Luke reaches up, forcing my hands down. “You didn’t do anything wrong. There’s nothing to apologize for. But you deserve better than this for your first time, Shay.”
His voice is steady, sure, not laughing at me in the least, which helps dissolve some of the mortification.
“Better than you?” I query, guessing at his meaning.
He smiles and his left shoulder goes up the slightest fraction of an inch. “Probably, but certainly better than a quick fuck in a dirty barn.”
My jaw drops, but not in shock. In want.
A quick fuck in a dirty barn . . . those filthy words are like hot drops of arousal to my brain, and he can see it written plain as day all over my face. His hand drops back down to his cock, the slow strokes up and down hypnotizing me.
Racing Hearts: Bennett Boys Ranch Page 6
