Page 63 of Sunshine

I swallow down the need to kiss him again, forcing myself to nod. And then I’m caught completely off guard when he bends low and wraps his arms around my legs, hauling me over his shoulder as he stands. “Put me down!” I shriek.

“Not a chance!” he calls out, and then he starts the trek up the steep and muddy hill, carrying me like a ragdoll.

I can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the last few minutes. The sudden rain, the heated confessions,kissingWells Bennett.

And it was a good kiss.

Halfway up the hill he slips, but he quickly catches his balance as he squeezes against my thighs. Like his instinct is to keep me bound to him, no matter the cost. At the top, I’m still breathless and laughing, but he still doesn’t put me back down. He marches straight for where his truck is parked in the grassy meadow.

When I’m settled and shivering in the passenger seat, he climbs in, shaking the rain from the ends of his hair beneath his hat. “About time that thing got washed,” I say, nodding at the dirt-smudged Wild Coyote logo on the front.

He smiles, and it nearly wrecks me. His eyes are blown wide with need, and it’s all it takes for me to slide my right leg over his thighs and straddle him.

“Layla,” he warns, as if I didn’t already propel us over thisline down by the river. His eyes drop to my mouth as I settle over his lap, and I love the way it makes me feel: bold and brave andalive. Somewhere deep inside my mind, I know how bad this is. I know there’s a very real possibility that we’ll both regret it the second we burst through the haze and drive back into town. But for now, surrounded by the outskirts of his family ranch where no one can find us, all I want is to savor the moment. To let it wash over me and bathe me in something new.

“What, cowboy?” I ask. There’s a dare in my tone and I watch as he registers it, fascinated as it sparks a new wave of hunger in his molten brown eyes.

“Fuck,” he murmurs. “You’re so damn pretty like this.” And this time he kisses me.

His hands grip my waist as he pulls me closer until there’s no space between us and I can feel the way he shakes. I melt into him, my hands frantic as they take him in. Our rain-soaked shirts stick together, fabric dragging against fabric until he lifts mine over my head and drops it on the truck floor with a wet slap. His fingers trace along the edges of my bra strap as I reach for the hem of his shirt, eager to get to the warmth of his skin, and when I get it off, I can’t help the moan that escapes as my need winds tight within me.

He’s hard beneath his jeans, and I grind into him until he’s sputtering for air. “Layla,” he pleads, his hands like a vise as he holds me still. His eyes track along my body, along the shape of my breasts beneath lavender cotton, and he shakes his head. “We can’t.”

I move my mouth to his jaw, sucking and licking the column of his throat. “Why not?”

A whimper escapes his mouth when I bite into his skin,and he shifts his hips up and into me.A reward, I think, for earning that sound. But then he’s shaking his head again, gently moving me down his legs and away from where I want to touch him most. “Layla,” he says again, firmer this time.

I sigh through a shaky exhale, and when I look at him, I know this is over.

“We can’t,” he insists. “Not like this.”

Not like this.The words hit me all at once. I’m desperate to know when and how wecando this because god—I want to. “Okay,” I whisper. “Yeah, we can . . . wait? I think.” My brain feels frazzled, but my body is sharp with focus. The pressure of his mouth against my skin is on repeat, like a scratch on an old record. The heat in his eyes, his hands still wrapped tightly around my waist. I don’t want it to stop.

It doesn’t even scare me. Not like it seems to be scaring him.

He nods. And then his face stills. “Or not,” he adds. “You know . . . if this—” He clears his throat. “If you change your mind.”

I watch his mouth as they shape the words, but they lose meaning in the air between us. Rain continues to belt down against the roof, and with the sudden lack of movement, of delicious friction between our bodies, a chill rattles through me.

“Shit,” Wells says on an exhale, swiping his thumb against the waistband of my shorts. “You’re freezing.”

I shake my head. “No, I’m good.” But goosebumps give me away, and he gently scoots me off of his lap so he can start the truck and crank on the heat.

“Here.” He reaches for my shirt from the footwell and hands it to me, his cheeks flushing pink as his eyes drop to my brabefore quickly jumping back up to meet mine. “It’s soaked . . . Hold it against the vent and let it dry a little before you put it back on.”

I nod, my mouth growing dry as the reality of what just happened settles over me. I open my shirt and spread it over the side vent, holding it in place as Wells backs away from the trees.

He drives all the way back into town without a shirt on, and I swear I do my best not to look. But he catches me sneaking glances, and an unrestrained grin spreads over his face. It lights me up all over again.

“Do you need to go home?” he asks. I look at the time on his dash and see it’s only four-thirty—still early enough to stay with Wells. The fact that he’s even asking makes me think he’s hoping I can.

“No,” I say softly. “Not yet.”

“Can I take you to the cabin?” His voice is even, but my heart somersaults all the same. When I don’t answer, he turns to face me. “Not . . . not for that. I promise.” His jaw jumps and his throat works around a hard swallow. I’ve never seen him so . . . affected. “I just want to make sure you warm up.”

A flush crawls up my neck, and I wonder if he can see it. “Yes.”

He nods, brown eyes assessing me. “You’re okay?”

---