“It’s getting late,” she ventured, and there was a vulnerability in her voice that made his predicament even worse. Though he didn’t look at her now, an image of her this afternoon, in that short denim skirt, a peach tank top, her blond hair cascading softly around her bare shoulders, was stuck deep in the base of his brain. It was going to take dynamite to blast it out.
“I know.” He gave the short answer.
“What are you doing?”
He grabbed the next bale, binder twine pressing against the reinforced palms of his leather work gloves. “Moving hay bales.”
He retraced his steps. Extreme physical work was his only hope of getting any sleep tonight. If he wasn’t dead-dog exhausted, he’d do nothing but lie awake and think about Amber sleeping across the hall.
“Is it that important?” she pressed.
“Horses have to eat.”
“But do you-”
“Is there something you need?” he asked brusquely.
Her silence echoed between them, and he felt like a heel.
“No,” she finally answered in a soft voice. “It’s just…”
He didn’t prompt her, hoping she’d take the hint and leave. He’d never found himself so intensely attracted to a woman, and it was physically painful to fight it.
“I’m surprised is all,” she continued.
He mentally rolled his eyes. Couldn’t the woman take a hint? Did she like that she was making him crazy? Was she one of those teases that got her jollies out of tempting a man then turning up her prissy little nose at his advances?
“When you said you had to babysit the ranch-”
“-I thought you meant in a more managerial sense. I mean, can’t somebody else move the hay?”
He turned to look at her then. Damn it, she was still wearing that sexy outfit. Only it was worse now, because the cool evening air had hardened her nipples, and they were highlighted against the soft cotton where she stood in the pool of overhead light.
The air whooshed right out of his lungs, and he almost dropped the bale.
“I’d rather do it myself,” he finally ground out.
“I see.” She held his gaze. There was something soft in the depths of her eyes, something warm and welcoming.
At this very second, he could swear she was attracted to him. But he’d been down that road before. Down that road was a long night in a very lonely bed.
He went back to work.
“Royce?” Her footsteps echoed again as she moved closer.
He heaved the bale into place, gritted his teeth and turned. “What?” he barked.
“I’m…” She glanced at the scuffed floor. “Uh…sorry.”
He swiped his forearm across his sweaty brow. “Not as sorry as I am.”
She glanced up in confusion. “For what? What did you do?”
“I didn’t
“Then, what do you have to be sorry about?”
“You want to know why I’m sorry?” He’d reached the breaking point, and he was ready to give it to her with both barrels. “You really want to know why I’m sorry?”
She gave a tentative nod.
“I’m sorry I walked into the Ritz-Carlton lounge.”
Her eyes widened as he stripped off his gloves.
“And I’m sorry I brought you home with me.” He tossed the gloves on the nearest hay bale. “And I’m sorry you’re so beautiful and desirable and sexy. But mostly,
Their eyes locked.
For a split second, it looked as though she smiled.
“You think this is
She shook her head. Then she took a step forward. “I think it’s ironic.”
“You might not want to get too close,” he warned, drinking in the sight, sound and scent of her all in one shot, wondering how many seconds he could hold out before he dragged her into his arms.
“Yeah?” She stepped closer still.
“Did you not hear me?”
She placed her flat palm against his chest. “I heard you just fine.” Her defiant blue eyes held one of the most blatant invitations he’d ever seen.
He hoped she knew what she was doing.
Hell, who was he kidding? He couldn’t care less if she knew or not. Just so long as she didn’t back off this time.
His arms went around her and jerked her flush against him, all but daring her to protest.
Then he bent his head; his desire and frustration transmitted themselves into a powerful kiss. He all but devoured her mouth, reveling in the feel of her thighs, belly and breasts, all plastered against his aching flesh.
He encircled her waist, pulling in at the small of her back, bending her backward, kissing deeper as his free hand strummed from hip to waist over her rib cage to capture the soft mound of her breast.
She groaned against his mouth, lips parting farther, her tongue answering the impassioned thrusts of his own. Her nipple swelled under his caress, fueling his desire and obliterating everything else from his brain. He bent his knee, shifting his thigh between hers, pushing up on her short skirt, settling against the silk of her panties.
Her hands gripped his upper arms, nails scraping erotically against his thin shirt, transmitting her passion to the nerves of his skin. He lifted her, spreading her legs, hands cupping her bottom, shoving the skirt out of the way and pressing her heat against him.
Her arms went around his neck, legs tightening, her lips hot on his, her silky hair flowing out in all directions around her shoulders. She braced her arms on his shoulders, fingers delving into his short hair. Her kisses moved from his mouth to his cheek, his chin and his neck. She tugged at the buttons of his shirt, loosening them, before dipping her head and trailing her kisses across his chest.
He tipped back his head, drinking in the heat and moisture of her amazing lips. Then he took a few steps sideways, behind the bale stack, screening them from the rest of the cavernous room. He shrugged out of his loose shirt, dropping it on a bale before settling her on top. He braced his arms on either side of her and pulled back to look.
Her eyes were closed, lips swollen red. Her chest heaved with labored breaths, and his gaze settled on the outline of her breasts against the peach top.
“Royce?”
His name on her lips tightened his chest and sent a fresh wave of desire cascading through his veins. He swiftly stripped her top off over her head, revealing two perfect breasts peeking from a lacy, white bra that dipped low in the center and barely camouflaged her dusky nipples.
“Gorgeous,” he breathed, popping the clasp and letting the wisp of fabric fall away. “Perfection.”
Her lash-fringed lids came up, revealing blue eyes clouded with passion.
They stared at each other for a long suspended breath. Then he reached out, his tanned hand dark against her creamy breast. He stroked the pad of his thumb across her nipple.
She gasped, and he smiled in pure satisfaction.
He repeated the motion, and she grabbed for his waist, tugging him toward her. But he stood his ground, his gaze flicking to the shadow of her sheer, high-cut panties, the skirt pulled high to reveal her hips.
He traced the line of elastic, knuckle grazing the moist silk. She moaned, head tipping back against the golden hay, her arms falling to her sides, clenching her fists tightly.
He could feel his anticipation, his own blood singing insistently through his system, hormones revving up, his passion making demands on his brain. But he wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready to let the roar toward completion
