Page 77 of Dirty Cowboy

I lean in.

Our lips meet, tentative at first, like a question neither of us knows how to ask. I drag my tongue along her bottom lip, tasting her, and teasing her. She opens for me with a soft sigh. That sound. Fuck. It unravels every last shred of restraint I have left.

I deepen the kiss, swallowing her into me, letting her warmth drown out every reason why this shouldn’t be happening. Her fingers grip my shoulders, nails biting into my skin as she holds on, anchoring herself to me. Water laps around us, waist-deep and forgotten as I lose myself in the feel of her.

My hands roam her back, tracing the delicate curve of her spine. I should stop. I know I should stop. But I don’t.

Because I don’t want to.

Because for the first time in my life, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be—with her.

I want Emma. I want her in my arms, in my bed, and in my ropes.

I’m falling for her.

And there’s nothing to break the landing.

We break apart, gasping. Her lips are swollen, and her pupils blown wide. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her look more beautiful.

"We shouldn’t…" My voice is hoarse and half-hearted, the words tasting like a lie even as I force them out.

She blinks up at me, breathless. "You're right. We got carried away." A small smile tugs at her lips, teasing. "You think Grandpa would have believed it?"

I swallow hard.

I believed it.

I brush my thumb over her cheek, my voice softer now. "Yeah, Grandpa would have believed it."

Her skin is warm beneath my touch, and I hate the regret twisting in my gut. "I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier. I didn’t mean to lose my cool."

Her gaze searches mine. "Are you sorry for the kiss too?"

I don’t even hesitate. "No." My voice drops to a whisper, rough and raw. "I'm not sorry."

Her breath catches, her eyes flicking to my mouth, but then she tilts her head, playful again. "Then what happens if my brothers find out?"

Shit.

"They won’t," I murmur.

She shivers, and slowly, reluctantly, unwinds her legs from around me, sinking back into the river.

“Oh, that feels mushy,” she mutters, wrinkling her nose.

I smirk. "Step two feet toward the shore. There’s sand there."

As she moves closer, the waterline drops, revealing the soaked fabric clinging to her body. I reach out, brushing my thumb over the streak of ash on her forehead, and wipe it away. "Why are you covered in soot? Where were you?"

Her body stiffens.

She looks up with fire flashing in her eyes. "I'll tell you after you explain why you never told me Huntz lived north of here."

Fuck.

Huntz. Again.

The moment between us shatters, the heat replaced with frustration. Hers and mine. It shimmers in the air, heavy and unspoken, swirling around us like the river current pulling at our legs. I clench my jaw, forcing myself to hold her gaze.

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