Page 169 of Knotting the Cowboys

The pain in his voice makes my chest tight. I want to tell him he doesn't have to continue, but I sense he needs this. Needs to let the poison out.

"Got the door open. Got her into my arms. She was so light—couldn't have weighed more than you do." He glances at me briefly, then away. "Made it halfway to the stairs when the ceiling started coming down. Burning chunks of insulation, support beams. I tried to shield her, but?—"

His voice cracks. I reach out instinctively, my hand covering his. He turns his palm up, threading our fingers together, holding on like I'm anchoring him to the present.

"Her hand went limp in mine just as the ceiling collapsed completely. The impact knocked me forward, down the stairs. Somehow I kept hold of her, got her outside, but..." He shakes his head. "She was gone. Twenty-two years old. Sarah Chen. Had just started graduate school."

"Cole," I breathe, squeezing his hand.

"I was two minutes too slow." The words come out raw, scraped from somewhere deep. "If I'd been faster finding her, if I'd taken a different route, if I'd?—"

"Stop." I turn to face him fully, reaching up with my free hand to cup his jaw, forcing him to meet my eyes. "You can't carry that. You tried. You risked everything to save her."

"But I didn't save her." His steel-gray eyes are bright with unshed tears. "That's what mattered. Not the trying. The result. And I failed."

"You didn't fail. The fire failed her. The building failed her. The universe failed her. But not you." I stroke my thumb across his cheekbone, feeling the day's stubble. "Never you."

He leans into my touch, eyes closing. "When I found you in that fire, when I pulled you out..." His voice drops to barely above a whisper. "It felt like redemption. Like maybe theuniverse was giving me a second chance. You were breathing. You were alive. You stayed alive."

"Because of you," I remind him. "You saved me."

"You saved me too." His eyes open, intensity stealing my breath. "Every day since, you save me. Make me believe maybe I deserve that second chance."

The space between us has shrunk to nothing. I can feel his breath on my face, see the gold flecks in his gray eyes, count every line that stress and sun have carved into his skin. My hand is still on his face, and his free hand comes up to cover it, pressing my palm more firmly against his cheek.

"Willa," he says, and my name sounds like a prayer.

"I'm here," I whisper. "I'm alive. I'm not going anywhere."

Something breaks in his expression—all that careful control crumbling like a dam giving way. His hand slides into my hair and then his mouth is on mine, desperate and hungry and tasting of redemption sought in the dark.

This kiss is nothing like the playful ones I've shared with Mavi. This is drowning and breathing at the same time. It's years of guilt and pain and loneliness pouring out, seeking solace in connection. His lips move against mine like he's trying to memorize the shape of being saved, and I kiss him back just as fiercely, trying to show him he already is.

My hands fist in his shirt, pulling him closer. He groans into my mouth, the sound vibrating through me, and the swing rocks with our movement. His tongue traces the seam of my lips and I open for him, tasting coffee and desperation and Cole—essentially, perfectly Cole.

He pulls me into his lap without breaking the kiss, my nightgown riding up as I straddle his thighs. His hands span my waist, holding me like I might evaporate if he loosens his grip. I nip at his lower lip and he makes a sound that's half growl, half plea, his hips rocking up slightly.

"Wanted this," he gasps between kisses. "Wanted you. Felt so guilty for wanting?—"

"No guilt," I manage, trailing kisses along his jaw. "Never guilt. Not for this."

His hands slide up my sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of my breasts through thin fabric. I arch into the touch, shameless in my need, and?—

Luna's cry pierces the night, sharp and demanding.

We freeze, both breathing hard, bodies humming with interrupted desire. Cole's hands tighten on my waist briefly before he starts to lift me off his lap.

"I should?—"

"I got her!" Mavi's voice calls from inside. "Little star and I are going for a walk. Someone's got energy to burn."

We hear footsteps, the front door opening. Mavi appears with Luna bundled against his chest in her carrier, her cries already softening to hiccups. He takes in our position—me still in Cole's lap, both of us thoroughly disheveled—and his grin is wicked.

"Don't mind us," he says, adjusting Luna's blanket. "Just taking the princess to count stars. We'll be gone at least an hour. Maybe two." He winks. "House is all yours."

He's down the porch steps before either of us can respond, Luna's babbles fading as he heads toward the pasture. The night swallows them, leaving Cole and me alone with the sound of crickets and our own harsh breathing.

"He did that on purpose," I say, not moving from Cole's lap.

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