“Oh,” I said as my cheeks flushed. “Um, okay.” I yanked the robe to cover my legs, while he extended the courtesy of looking away. I shot to my feet and faced away from him, not wanting him to see the disappointment and confusion in my eyes.
When I opened the front door and moved aside, he stepped through it and out into the warm night air. Darkness had fallen quickly, as it usually does when you’re surrounded by nothing but trees and no streetlamps.
“Thanks for, um…listening, I guess.”
“You’re welcome.” He started off the porch, without looking back. “Have a good night,” he called out over his shoulder.
“You, too,” I said softly, watching him stroll out to his truck.
Once he reached it, I closed the front door and leaned against it, blowing out a long, slow breath. I probably should’ve been relieved he hadn’t pressed me for more details about the fire. And realistically, I didn’t even know why I was bewildered by his reaction to seeing my scars. From the beginning, I’d predicted—if not projected—the outcome. Although he hadn’t appeared exactly repulsed by them, he was obviously distancing himself from me, which was close enough to the same thing.
At least he’d demonstrated some compassion by not drawing out a long, awkward good-bye littered with excuses and insincere apologies. Not that it mattered, since I could already feel a stinging sensation as the first tear pricked my eye.
If I can’t see past the scars, then why should he?
I was still leaning against the door moments later when someone rapped lightly on the other side. What the hell?
I opened it to find Cowboy filling the space with unnerving eyes, a strange look of desperation on his face, and his mouth held in a grim, firm line. “I should keep my hands off you,” he said with a hoarseness to his voice.
“Um, okay.” Guess he was more repulsed than I thought, because he was going ahead with the insincere apology, after all. “You came back to tell me that?”
“No, I forgot something.” He sounded even more irritated than when I first opened the door.
“Oh. What’d you forget?” I started to turn to look for a set of keys or something else that could be his, but he gripped my arm to stop me.
“This,” he said, spinning me back to him and covering my mouth with his.
Instantly, I froze.
Since I’d first met him, I’d always wondered what it would be like to be under that perfect mouth of his, and now that I was finding out, I stood there stupidly with my fish lips smashed against his in the most unflattering way.
But that didn’t deter him. He moved his lips slowly against mine, patiently awaiting my response. And he got one. Within seconds, my passive lips became soft and pliant against his as our mouths began a seductive dance together. His warmth tempered my body, bringing it to just the right degree, until I melted into him, my fingers gripping his shirt as I kissed him back with no physical hesitation.
Mentally, I was still hesitating, though. “We shouldn’t be doing this,” I whispered between kisses.
In answer, his hands moved into my hair, tilting my head slightly to the right, as his breath tickled across my lips. “Open your mouth and shut up,” he murmured, bringing my face back to his.
I did as he asked, and his tongue swept inside, delving deep. My good sense flew out the window. He was warm and tasted like wild honey. The insistent rolling of his tongue against mine excited me more, enticing me to participate. Feeling braver than normal, I ran mine across his bottom lip and gave him a little nip.
He stilled.