Page 68 of In Full Bloom

He picks up my leg, brands a searing kiss to the inside of my knee, then slings it over his shoulder and licks straight up the centre of me.

I cry out and my fingers knot in his hair. His injured arm is wound around behind my ass, holding me in place. His good hand is resting on my thigh, but after several long, slow licks, he slides his fingers back where they belong.

The pressure and dual sensations send waves of want and desire and lust through me as I stare down at this man, who’s opened his heart to me, and left it open, even with me trying to slam that door closed at every turn.

His eyes lock with mine as he twists his fingers and the orgasm hits me like I’ve run into a wall at full speed. I cry out again as Dallas holds me to him, his face against my thigh as I ride it out.

When the tremors subside, he peers up at me, his smile sheepish. “Sorry, this bath isn’t very relaxing,” he says, not looking at all sorry.

I run my fingers through his hair. “I don’t know. I’m feeling pretty fucking relaxed.”

He laughs and stands. Miraculously, we still haven’t got hisbandage wet. He steps out of the bath, avoiding my grasping hands. “Do you want to finish your bath?”

“No,” I snap. “I want to finish you.”

He wraps a towel around his waist, hiding the goods. Only when it’s secure does he come near me again. “There’s time for that later. Enjoy your bath.” His hand settles on my shoulder and he gives a gentle push, encouraging me to slide back into the water. “I’ll see you soon. When you’re ready,” he says, then leaves the room and pulls the door closed behind him.

“How the fuck am I supposed to enjoy my bath now?” I shout, petulantly slapping the water.

I hear his deep laugh rumble through the walls and again, the affection in it does something funny to my insides.

It’s not the cocky cowboy laugh he used with me the first night. Not the one he used at work those first few weeks when it was obvious he was just tolerating me. This is the laugh he uses with his friends, his family. The laugh he uses with the people he cares about most.

I step out of the bath and grab a towel, drying off the excess water and wrapping the fluffy fabric loosely around me. Leaving my clothes scattered across the bathroom floor, I swing the door wide open.

Dallas is across the room on the couch, facing away from me. He turns at the sound of the door, sending me a mock scowl. “You’re supposed to be enjoying the bath.”

“Yeah, well, now I want to enjoy your bed.” I saunter across the room, push the door open to the room I know must be his and head inside, dropping the towel as I cross the threshold.

His room is exactly how I imagined it would be. Calm greywalls, a navy blue duvet with dark sheets, the bare minimum of pillows. A wooden dresser in the corner has more of Sadie’s artwork and pictures of her displayed on the top, along with a couple of men’s toiletries.

I crawl onto the bed and flop down, right in the centre. A moment later Dallas is leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed against his chest. The stance shows off everything, from his biceps, strong chest and narrow waist to the decidedly delicious bulge under the towel he’s still wearing.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he mutters as he stalks across the room.

I laugh. “Come here, cowboy.” I pat the bed beside me, then stretch languidly. I know exactly what I’m doing and it’s nothing that’s going to help what’s under that towel, unless he lets me near him.

Still grumbling, Dallas climbs onto the bed and lies on his side, facing me.

“Improved, but could be better.” I tug at the towel until it comes free, then slide my hand down his thigh. The muscle is hot and hard under my palm. I glance up, my eyes locking with his and something in his gaze brings my wandering fingers to a halt. “What’s going on, cowboy?”

He sighs and rolls onto his back. “It’s stupid.” He rubs a hand across his eyes.

“Hey,” I reach up and tug his hand away, rolling up onto an elbow so I can look him in the eye. “Dallas, what’s going on?”

“You’re here, laid out in my bed, naked, looking like a god damn dream come true … and my brain just keeps freaking out over what happens if I lose you.”

I cup his face, stroking my thumb over his cheek, the touch comforting rather than sensual. “We both know I haven’t exactly been settled about being back here,” I say. “Your caution is warranted. But …” I take a deep breath. I need to say the next words, for him and for me. “I’m in this, Dallas. I really am. We can slow things down if you want, but I promise. I’m right here with you.”

Dallas draws in a slow breath, closing his eyes and absorbing my words. He turns his head and presses a kiss to the inside of my wrist. A tiny gasp releases from somewhere in my chest and when he turns his face back to me again his eyes are clear and determined.

He traces a line across my eyebrow, down my cheek, then sweeps a finger over my lips. “I don’t want to slow things down,” he says. “Because I’m pretty convinced you’re it for me. I want you to stay here, because I love it here and Sadie loves it here, and your family—our family—is here. I think you can love it here, but really, in the end … I don’t think it’ll matter where we are.”

Heat races down my cheek and Dallas brushes his thumb across it, swiping away the tear.

“Sorry,” I mutter, more heat flooding my cheeks, but this time it’s embarrassment, not tears.

“Don’t be sorry, princess.” His voice is too soft over the stupid nickname he’s always said with a mocking lilt to his voice.

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