Oh, he wished it were that straightforward. That they were back in Chicago, his place, a hotel room, anything easy. But nothing about Blue Valley, Mel, or this ranch was simple or easy. “I would like that, but there are…ramifications to that. Complicated ones.”
“No, there aren’t. Not really. I need…” She took a deep breath. There was hurt and pain all over her face, but she didn’t slump in the face of it. She looked at him straight on. “I want to forget about everything. You can make that happen, can’t you?”
“Well, not permanently.”
“I don’t need permanent. I just need right now. I just need you.”
He let out a breath. This whole “be the good guy” thing was proving difficult, because he didn’t know what the good-guy thing to do here was. He felt like good guys probably said no to emotional pleas for forget-everything sex.
But it was what she wanted, and Christ, that getup was killing him. So…
He was at a loss.
“I am going to say this once, and only once.” She swallowed, her palm pressing against his bare chest. Warm, soft, small. He could almost forget those hands were capable of ripping a post out of the ground or—as she’d once warned him—castrating a cow.
“Please.”
Then, like she had the other morning, she let her hand trail down his chest, across his abdomen, to the waistband of his boxers, and he sucked in a breath. He’d said “no” once, and it hadn’t done much of anything.
Was it really such a bad-guy thing to do to say yes? To give her what she asked for? What she’d said “please” for? He was pretty certain he could give her exactly what she wanted, and what he wanted in the process.
So…how could that be wrong?
Chapter 11
There was a whole world of emotions going on deep in her gut, but Mel breathed through them. She wouldn’t analyze it—downright refused to—but the warmth of Dan’s chest under her palm was like this center point, a calming force in a sea of frustration, hurt, and anger.
She wanted more of that, more of him. The way simply touching his bare skin made every part of her buzz to attention. She wanted his mouth on hers, his body on hers. She wanted to find the end to this perpetual ache.
She took a deep breath before lifting her gaze to his. He had to say yes, he just had to—
He placed his hand over hers, and for one horrible second, she thought he was going to peel it away and try to be all noble and crap again.
Instead, he lifted her hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to her palm, his eyes never leaving hers.
The bolt of heat and giddy excitement was sharp, quick—a kind of jolt Tyler had never given her in kisses on the actual mouth. Which wasn’t a fair comparison. They’d been young and inexperienced and, well, she hadn’t allowed herself to be attracted to much more than his stability.
It was the way she worked.
Until Dan.
Involuntarily, she jerked her arm back, feeling that this was maybe just a bit too much, but Dan’s grasp on her wrist was firm. His thumb brushed over the inside of her arm, and she shivered. She honest to God shivered from the simplest touch.
“You can stop me anytime,” he said levelly, those eyes of his seeing too much, understanding far too much.
But she didn’t care, not if simple touches could do this. Not if he could erase all the crap in her head, even for just a few minutes. “I don’t want to stop,” she snapped. She’d put on these ridiculous clothes and this ridiculous makeup and told him to take those ridiculous glasses off and stay in his underwear.
They were doing this.
“Okay, but I’m putting it out there anyway.”
“Okay, sure.” Whatever. Whatever it took to get him to stop talking and start doing. So she could stop feeling like her nerves were going to cause her to bolt. No. Way.
His grip on her wrist tightened, and he pulled her to him, still keeping space between them, but not much, and it seemed to jump with electricity, like the air during a thunderstorm. Sparking with danger and an unpredictable force of nature.
“You’re going to have to come a little closer, baby,” he said in a low, gravelly voice that was…new. New. No slick lines, no easy jokes. There was a thread of serious intent in his voice, and that was…well, almost hot enough to pretend like he hadn’t called her baby.
But she didn’t like that, even when parts of her did. “Don’t call me baby,” she managed, her voice coming out…breathless. Strange to her own ears.
“Darling? Sugar? Honey?”
She swallowed as his hand traveled up her arm, leaving a trail of goose bumps in its wake. She stared hard at the column of his throat, the way it curved into those strong, broad shoulders. Muscled. Athletic. Real. This man who didn’t seem totally real was touching her, looking at her like she was something edible.
Which almost made her forget they were talking, but then his hand stopped at her shoulder, and she remembered. “None of that endearment crap. Mel.”
“Mel.”
She forced herself to look at him, to be brave and strong and enjoy the hell out of this. “I’m not interchangeable.”