Bucking Bronc Lodge 04(27)

Slowly she opened the door and stepped outside. He was as lost in himself and his tragedy as Timmy had been in his nightmare. Another reason she couldn’t keep herself from reaching out to him.

The sky seemed darker than normal, the stars hidden by the ominous clouds, the wind whistling through the trees and tossing dead leaves across the yard.

She took a deep breath, then closed the distance to him and gently laid a hand on his back. “He’s resting now.”

A long-suffering sigh escaped him, gruff and agonizing in its intensity. “He didn’t want me near him.”

Jordan swallowed hard. She didn’t quite understand why Timmy was shutting out Miles, but she knew it was difficult for him to accept.

“You can’t take his behavior personally.” She rubbed his back. “You’re Timmy’s father. He loves you, you know that.”

“Then why didn’t he want me?” he said gruffly. “He went to you.”

“I’m a woman,” Jordan explained. “Maybe he associates me with his mother.”

He turned his head toward her, and she saw the moisture in his eyes. “No, he hates me. He blames me for not being there and saving his mother.”

On some level, he might be right. Timmy was an innocent child who’d trusted that things were safe in his life. And then it had all fallen apart.

But she didn’t want to compound his guilt. “Miles, listen to me, Timmy is going to make it through this and so are you.”

“How?”

The desolation in his voice ripped at her heart. “It will take time, but you are doing the right thing for Timmy.”

“I’m not doing anything,” Miles said. “I let him down that night and I don’t know how to help him now.”

“You are helping him.” She framed his face with her hands. “You brought him here so he can recuperate, so he can feel normal again. You have me and everyone at the BBL looking out for him. But it takes time to heal.”

A muscle twitched in Miles’s jaw. “I just want him to be okay again.”

“I know.” She offered him a warm smile, but a heated moment passed between them, the close proximity of his body arousing hers. He was so strong yet he needed someone to give him strength.

And God help her, she wanted to be that person. To alleviate his pain.

His gaze met hers, something hot and sexual flaring in his eyes. Hunger. Need.

Desire.

Her breath caught in her chest as he lowered his head and traced one finger over her lip. Jordan sighed, her heart pounding ridiculously in her chest. Heat sizzled between them, the air thick with the raw attraction building between them.

His breath hissed out, a desperate kind of groan erupting from his throat as if he was fighting this attraction.

But then he gave in and claimed her mouth with his.

* * *

MILES KNEW IT WAS WRONG to want Jordan. Even more wrong to touch her, to kiss her, to pull her into his arms.

But he was a desperate man, and he did it anyway.

One second his lips grazed hers, the next he felt her lips part, an invitation to delve deeper. And he took it at that.

He was just a man. One who had been beating himself up for weeks. One who knew he didn’t deserve redemption, but a man who craved a moment of relief.

Jordan’s lips moved beneath his, her hands gently stroking his shoulders as he cradled her face in his hands and deepened the kiss. She tasted like sweetness and understanding and passion, a reprieve from the pain eating at him like a poison slowly killing his soul.

Then Jordan moaned, and her hands trailed up, and she threaded her fingers in his hair, and he groaned. He wanted more.

He slid his hands down to her hips and pulled her closer, the heat in his body driving his sex to a throbbing ache. He swung her around, positioned her against the porch rail, then lowered his head to taste her neck.

Suddenly she stiffened, and she gently pushed at his shoulders. “Miles, stop...we can’t.”

“We damn well can,” he growled against her throat.

“No.” She wrapped her fingers around his hands and lifted them, then gave a gentle push to put some distance between them. Just a hairbreadth.

But enough for his common sense to kick in.

“I’m sorry,” Jordan said. “I...know you’re hurting but—”

“Forget it,” he said then stepped back, a coldness suffusing him. “I don’t want your pity—”

“I didn’t mean it that way, Miles.” Jordan’s face constricted. “It’s just that we both got caught up in the moment. We both want what’s best for Timmy, and we can’t let it get personal.”

“Of course not,” Miles snapped. “Now he’s resting, you should go.”