Page 68 of Sawyer

“I’ve been dead since the second you waved to me in the parking lot.”

“Six feet under since you dumped your beer on me.”

My lips twitch. “Hey, that was an accident.”

His eyes search mine. “This isn’t.”

And then he leans in, his thick neck slanting in the sexiest way imaginable as his mouth meets mine.

CHAPTER17

Sawyer

SECOND BREAKFAST

It’sthe laughter and the adoration in her eyes.

The way she understands. Truly, deeply understands how I feel and why I’m so fucking tired all the time.

The way she makes me feel the opposite of tired, and how she noticed the photos, and the way she called me out on my bullshit in the kindest way possible.

Her offer of help—her genuine, no-strings-attached offer—has me all choked up. Which doesn’t really make sense. People offer me help all the time, my family especially. Maybe Ava having to ask me point-blank tolet herhelp has me realizing just how hard I am on myself.

Makes me realize my role as the helper—the one who catches everyone before they fall or fail—is maybe one that doesn’t quite fit anymore. Which is terrifying. And liberating.

I can’t. Fucking.Take it.

So like the sleep-deprived, sex-deprived, overly emotional asshole I am, I take Ava’s face in my hand and pull her in for a kiss.

I’m kissing this woman like we’re not strangers who just ran into each other in the preschool parking lot less than an hour ago.

Are we strangers, though?

Because she’s kissing me like she knows me. Her lips melt into mine, a warm, soft press that draws a groan from deep in my throat. She reaches up with her free hand and digs her fingers into the hair at the nape of my neck.

Christ, that feels good. Goose bumps break out on my arms as she runs her fingertips over my scalp. Just how she did back in Austin.

Just how I like it.

Tilting my head, I slant my mouth over hers, using my teeth to tug on her bottom lip before I slip my tongue inside the seam of her mouth.

She’s hot, eager, her tongue stroking into my own mouth as she deepens the kiss. My body ignites, blood moving through my skin in a frenzied rush. I set my mug on the mantel, pushing aside a pair of picture frames in the process, and grab Ava’s and set it up there too.

Then her hands are on my chest, pinkie catching on my nipple through my shirt. Need rips through me, making me growl.

My hands are on her face, and our hips melt together as I draw her close. Our noses brush. Her fingers curl into my shirt, and a pulse of hot, blinding lust lands between my legs.

We fall into a deep, unhurried rhythm, our tongues, lips, heads moving in a choreographed dance that I know well. The kiss feels easy. Broken in.

Ireallygotta get to work. With calving season coming up, we’re busier than ever.

But I can’t stop kissing this woman if I tried. And how could I resist putting on my cape for her? She needed a shoulder to cry on, and I’ll be damned if it’s any shoulder but mine.

I see stars behind my closed eyelids when she moves her hands up my chest and onto my shoulders, her thumbs brushing my neck. She presses her tits against me, pulling me closer, and when she tenderly kisses my cheek, my jaw, I just about lose it.

“I don’t”—I lean down to nip at her neck before soothing the spot with my tongue—“wanna make any assumptions here?—”

“Listen, cowboy.” Pulling away a little, she puts her hands on my chest and shoves me backward so that I fall onto the couch. “Your assumption is one hundred percent correct.”

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