But I didn’t really think so, not after the way he’d reacted.
I blew out a breath. God, I had no damn idea what he’d do, how he was feeling, and it was making me crazy.
I’d tossed and turned all night, aching and hot, unable to think about anything but the way he’d stared at me when I’d asked him if he’d ever touched another woman the way he’d touched me. That glint of excitement in his eyes. All of it had swirled through my mind till the early hours of the morning, until it drove me out of bed, desperate to see him again.
Because I wanted him. I wanted Elijah Hays in a way I didn’t understand, a way that had me behaving as recklessly as I had last night. In a way that kind of scared me. I wanted to be the one to show him how good it could be. To be the one to make that big, muscular body quake, to make him moan until his voice was grittier and rougher than it already was.
I rounded the barn, my steps faltering when I finally saw him. He was leaning against the side of the truck. Soft, worn Levi’s hugged those long legs, straining over his solid thighs. He wore a dark blue T-shirt that clung to his wide shoulders, stretching around his massive biceps. I couldn’t see his face with his head dipped, the brim of his ball cap concealing all but his square, scruff-covered jaw. But he’d stilled, in that unnatural way he did when I was around him, like he was holding his breath…or tracking me like a predator about to pounce.
As I approached, he lifted his chin, the peak of his hat coming up, but not enough for me to see his eyes.
“Ready to head out?” I asked, trying to inject some lightness in my voice but failing miserably. I didn’t feel light, I felt weighted down, restless. He wouldn’t want me to bring up what happened, but he also hadn’t run, so I was counting that as a win.
He dipped his chin again and, shoulders tight, rounded the truck like he always did, opening the door for me. After I got in, he climbed behind the wheel, fired up the engine, and we headed out. The drive was a quiet one, which wasn’t any different from the other trips we took to town, but this time the space between us seemed charged. Eli’s unique scent, a heady mix of dark spice and outdoors, combined with the truck’s leather seats, surrounded me, had my heart racing, made it impossible to think of anything but him.
And the way he white-knuckled the wheel, forearms bulging and corded, jaw locked tight, I knew he felt it, too, the tension, the undercurrent of something magnetic firing between us.
Once we hit town, we made our usual rounds, picked up the supplies we needed, and three hours later the truck was loaded up and we were ready to head back.
He’d barely said two words to me the whole time. That wasn’t unusual, either, but after last night it frustrated me. I wanted more from him. “I’m kinda hungry. You wanna get lunch?”
“Coopers?” His response was immediate, almost eager, but said with a gentleness that drew my belly tight.
Eli liked watching me eat. I knew this because the times when we went to Coopers, he did just that, after he’d made short work of his own lunch. I’d keep my head down, focus on my food, pretending I wasn’t aware of his hot gaze on me, the satisfaction in the tilt of his lips when I finished everything on my plate. I didn’t really understand it, but I liked the way it made me feel.
The smell of fresh coffee and fried bacon hit us as soon as we walked into the cozy diner, making my mouth water. We took our usual seats, the far corner in front of the window. Elijah’s back to the wall, mine to the door.
He rested his hands on the red Formica table, and I couldn’t help but admire them. I really did love his hands—wide palms, fingers thick and long. It always amazed me how he could toss a bale of hay like it weighed nothing, swing an ax like nobody’s business, and hit that bag of sand in the barn like he wanted to tear it apart—but how gentle he always was when he tended the horses.
And now I knew how they felt on me…
Our breakfast arrived, and in his usual style he tucked in, demolishing it like it was his last meal. Then he pushed his plate away and sat back. His fingers curled around his coffee mug as he took a sip, his eyes sliding from the view out the window to me. A bolt of lightning shot through me. My nipples hardened instantly, and I locked my knees together. I’d been trying to ignore the persistent throb between my legs since I’d laid eyes on him this morning, but squeezing my thighs together put delicious pressure on my swelling clit and a moan slipped out before I could bite it back.
I ducked my head and shoved a forkful of bacon and scrambled eggs in my mouth to cover it, but he’d heard. He was doing that still-as-a-statue thing he always did. He liked it when I took pleasure in my food, as much as he liked to watch, but he had no way of knowing the real reason I was moaning, why every inch of my skin was oversensitive, too damn tight for my body. I was turned the hell on, so much so that my appetite vanished completely. I pushed my plate away as well. “We should get going.”