“Well, you already married me, so…”
He huffs a laugh, his chest rising beneath my cheek. “You’re just full of the jokes tonight, aren’t you?”
“I’m not trying to be funny.” But if there’s really no future for us, then I’d rather know now. “I just think you’re making assumptions about your future based on things that happened with your parents.”
He sighs. “We all end up like our parents eventually, right?”
“Maybe, but it’s not always the bad we inherit.” Twisting away, I push up on my elbow to see his face. “You have to hear it in your voice. You’re saying the words, but there’s no conviction behind them, and that makes them… well, that makes them excuses.”
He drops his head to the side and surveys me, the slivers of moonlight sneaking in from between the blinds lighting his face, emphasizing just how tired he is of this internal battle he’s fighting. It’s not complete defeat, because behind those tired eyes, there are still glimmers of hope. Hope that maybe I’m right.
“My mom grew up on a ranch outside of Denver. She swore she would never marry a rancher because she hated how hard my grandma had to work to keep up with my grandfather. But then she went and fell for my dad, and they’ve been married for thirty years.”
“That’s awesome, babe, but what’s that got to do with me?”
“It has to do withme.” I press a hand to my chest. “I swore the same thing, except I wanted nothing to do with ranch life because I was sick of it. Even though I was only a couple of hours away during college, I rarely came home. And having older brothers and cousins as ranchers made me almost detest the type. My college boyfriend was the polar opposite, and intentionally so.”
His brow creases as he folds an arm behind his head. “What are you trying to say?”
“Don’t tell the men in my family—especially my brothers; their egos are big enough—but now I don’t want anythingbuttheir type. I had to grow up, experience another kind of guy, to realize that this kind, right here,” I pat his chest, “is what I want. I love your work ethic. How important your career is to you, and how passionate you are about the animals and the land. Not to mention, there’s nothing like a man in a nice pair of Wranglers.” I waggle my eyebrows to lighten the mood.
He chuckles. “You had to get that part in, didn’t ya?”
“Just keepin’ it real.”
He blows out a slow breath and adjusts against the pillow, his gaze never leaving mine. “I get what you’re saying, but that doesn’t mean being more open-minded about my situation will change anything for me.”
“I think it will.” Tangling my fingers with his, I squeeze. “But it didn’t happen for me overnight. It took years, and I didn’t have to deal with everything you’ve been through.”
He continues to study me before he tugs me back down to his side and presses a kiss to the top of my head. “What the hell are we doing, sweetness?”
“Besides going after what we want, even though it scares us a little?”
“A little? Try a fuck lot.”
I slide my knee over his and press a kiss to his pec. “Maybe that’s what my role is here. To be your safe place. Or at the very least, your snuggle partner.”
“I like the sound of that.” He curls a hand around my jaw and tips my face to his. “I kinda like the idea of being the first to make love to you in this bed, too. Hell, if I’d known last night, I would’ve already made that happen.”
Goose bumps flash across my skin, and a delicious shiver slips down my spine. “Hmm, do we have enough room for that?”
“All the room I need is inside you,” he rasps back. “And from what I’ve seen so far, we’re a perfect fit.”
Heat rushes to the apex of my legs, and I pulse my hips against his thigh on reflex. “Maybe we should double-check. Just to be sure.”
He chuckles and shifts over me, rocking his hardening cock against my stomach. “Maybe we should.”
I find the waistband of his boxers with ease and tug them down as he does the same to my shorts. Then his lips are on my neck, and my hands are on his back, and within minutes, he’s fishing for a condom in his jeans.
Sex won’t answer any of the questions I have or magically cure him of the childhood trauma he still needs to sort out, but he needs to know how special he is to me. That I trust him, even if he doesn’t trust what’s growing between us just yet.
“Forget the condom,” I pant. “Neither of us has been with anyone else in a while, and I’m on birth control.”
He goes still, his wallet in hand. “You sure?”
“Yes. I trust you, and if we’re going to christen this bed, we might as well do it right.”
A crooked grin turns up one side of his mouth as he drops the jeans and the wallet and shifts back over me. “You ever fucked bare before?”
