Stone Cold Cowboy(39)

“You like?” The slight tremble in her words revealed her nerves and how self-conscious she felt about her scars and his approval.

“You’re beautiful. Nice moves.” His voice came out gruff.

“Maybe next time you’ll take me dancing.”

He shook his head. “Only if you want me to step on your feet.”

She smiled and walked down the first step, but hesitated when all of a sudden his sheer size and narrowed gaze turned those nervous butterflies into a tremble of fear. Ridiculous. She set aside the nightmares that kept her up at night, and walked down the other three treads, standing close to him, but still up on the last stair so she could look him nearly in the eye. God, the man was tall. And built.

She covered her hesitation to approach him by saying, “I love to dance.”

“I’ve got two left feet,” he admitted with a self-deprecating grin.

“Are you really a bad dancer, or have you never been taught how to do it?”

“Both. About all I’m good for his holding you and swaying back and forth.”

“Well, that’s something.”

He put his hands on her hips. She jumped, but settled quickly when his warmth seeped through her clothes and into her skin. He held her gently, sensing she needed a second, but he didn’t ask about her odd reaction. To reassure him and steady herself, she swept her hands over the sides of his wide shoulders and set them on top.

“Maybe that’s all I want,” she admitted, liking having him close enough to smell his light, woodsy scent mixed with something uniquely him.

“We don’t have to go dancing for you to get me to hold you.” He reached up and traced a curl spiraling along her face. His gaze held hers.

Hers dipped to his mouth, the bottom lip just a touch fuller than the top. She slid her hand up his shoulder to the back of his neck and pulled him in for the kiss she didn’t just want but needed. She hesitated a breath from his lips and stared into his eyes. The hunger there matched her own. She’d never felt this overwhelming urge to be close to someone, let alone a man, but something about Rory drew her in and made her want to stay.

“Did you change your mind, or are you just trying to kill me?”

His deep voice resonated through her. The slight tilt of humor in his lips made her smile softly. She pressed her lips to his, thinking it just a test. A way to see if they fit, connected on a deeper level than the pull she already felt toward him.

The second her lips touched his, fire lit through her system. She pulled back, surprised that such a simple thing could spark such deep and overwhelming need. The same fire she felt flashed in his golden-green eyes.

“Once wasn’t enough.” This time, Rory pulled her back in and kissed her, wrapping her in his strong arms. Cocooned in his warmth, she hooked her arms around his neck and pressed her body down the length of his. He engulfed her and she felt protected. Safe.

The fire sizzled through her when his tongue swept along hers in a soft sweep that was undemanding. The man knew how to take his time. She appreciated that he didn’t rush, but let the intimate moment stretch.

He ended the kiss with a soft brush of his lips to hers. It took her a second to open her eyes and look up at him. God, the man was handsome at a distance. This close, he was so damn hot she wanted to lean in and kiss him again.

“We should go.” He didn’t move.

She didn’t want to go anywhere. She’d like to stay right here with him in the bubble of closeness they’d created where nothing else mattered except the two of them.

She leaned back, putting some distance between them so she could cool her heels and take a breath without feeling him do the same, despite how much she enjoyed it. She got that whole magnetism thing now.

He let her go, sliding his hands down her back and taking her hands. He stepped back and pulled her off the step. “Come on. Let’s go have some fun.”

“I don’t know about you, but I was having fun.”

He opened the truck door. She hopped in and turned to face him. He leaned in the door. “You are trying to kill me.” He kissed her again. Just a friendly, we’re-not-done kind of thing. “I was right, once wasn’t enough.”

“I was wrong about you. You’re nothing like what I thought.”

“I’m sorry I gave you the wrong impression. I’m trying to show you who I really am.”

“You’re off to a really good start.”

Rory kissed her again. Not just because he could, but because he needed to. She looked so lovely sitting in his truck, her hair falling in waves, framing her beautiful face, her eyes locked on him. Her soft lips melted below his. She tasted sweet and tempting. She truly was turning into an addiction. Now that he’d started kissing her, he never wanted to stop.