Page 25 of All for You

We pull up outside her apartment building just as the sky darkens. I put the truck in park but make no move to get out; not ready for the day to end.

“Travis...” Rachel hesitates, her voice softer now. “You’re one hell of a kisser, you know that?”

“Am I?” I feign nonchalance, but damn if her words don’t stroke my ego.

“Yep. And I’m pretty sure your mom saw us earlier. On the hay bale,” she adds with a frown. “It was awkward.”

“Shit.” I hadn’t noticed or felt Mother’s prying eyes. But when I look at Rachel, none of it seems to matter. I’m a grown-ass man, not some teenager sneaking around. And Rachel is worth any amount of grief I get.

“Hey,” I reach over to lift her chin so she’s looking straight at me. Our eyes lock, and the air between us sizzles with heat. “I like kissing you too, Rachel. A lot.”

Understatement of the fucking year. I don’t just like kissing her. I’m addicted to it. To her. The taste of her lips, the feel of her body against mine. It’s intoxicating, and I’m drunk on her. I want more.Somuch more.

“This could get complicated fast. What about the arrangement?” she whispers, biting her lip.

That lip bite. Christ. It takes every ounce of self-control not to lean over and capture that mouth. To hell with complications. To hell with arrangements. I want her, all of her, and not just for show.

“Screw the arrangement,” I say, my voice rough with emotion.

For a moment, neither of us moves. It’s a standstill. We’re on the edge of something tangible that will either burn us alive or forge something much stronger. And I’m betting on the latter.

Rachel’s breath catches in her throat. She shifts in her seat, the soft leather creaking beneath her. “That’s a hell of a thing to say.”

My jaw clenches, and my knuckles are white on the steering wheel. “I mean it, Rachel. This isn’t just pretend anymore. Not for me, anyway.”

I realize it’s been a whirlwind fast, but every touch, every glance, every moment spent with her has quickly chipped away at the fortress I’d built around my heart. She’s slipped through the cracks, and now there’s no going back. Not if I have anything to say about it. The thought of returning to our charade makes my stomach churn.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for real. What if?—”

“What if nothing?” I cut in, my voice gruff. “We take it one day at a time. No pressure, no expectations. Just... us.”

She looks at me then, and I hope she sees I’m not like her ex or any man she’s known before. I plan to be different from them. To be the man she deserves.

My pulse quickens under her thoughtful gaze. Does she see how much I want her? How much I need her? I’m acting like some lovesick teenager, but I can’t help it.

A smile, small but genuine, touches her lips. “I think I can manage that.”

The wave of relief washing over me is so sweet I’m sure I’ll get a cavity. “Good, because I wasn’t planning on letting you go that easy.” I mean every word. And now that I have her, I’ll be damned if I let her slip away.

She laughs, the sound bright and clear in the quiet cab of my truck. “Oh, you weren’t, were you? Pretty sure of yourself, Kincaid.”

“Damn straight. I’m irresistible.”

“Keep telling yourself that, cowboy,” she teases, her tone light.

Rachel reaches for the door handle, opens it, and slips out of the truck, her white cowboy boots smacking on the cement.She turns back, her face radiant as she starts walking backward toward the building.

She is stunningly beautiful inside and out, and I can’t believe how lucky I am. The realization should scare me, but instead, it fills me with a warmth I haven’t felt in years.

“Good night, Travis,” Rachel calls out, her voice carrying on the evening air.

“Night, Rachel.”

She finally spins on her heels and disappears into the building. As the door closes behind her, I sit for a moment, the engine idling, my thoughts swirling. Her perfume lingers in the cab, a subtle floral scent that makes my head spin.

The possibility of a real relationship with her sets my blood on fire. I’m surprised by how much I crave it given what I went through with Amelia. I even look forward to our arguments to see that fierce spark in her eyes. Rachel challenges me in a good way, and I’m addicted to it. To her.

And fuck if I didn’t want more—lazy Sunday mornings, showing her the ranch at sunrise on horseback, kissing under the stars. I’m genuinely looking forward to tomorrow for the first time since my divorce.

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