Page 40 of Not Our First Rodeo
I don’t know what makes me do it, but I turn my hands out, letting my knuckles drag across his stomach before pressing my palms there. His muscles twitch beneath them, tightening beneath my touch. He’s always responded to me like this, like the barest touch from me will bring him to life.
“Elsie,” he breathes, more of a groan than anything.
I feel it deep beneath my skin, in the marrow of my bones. The sound of it drags my gaze upward. He’s looking down at me, eyes molten, jaw tight. “What are you doing?”
I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry. “I don’t know. I just…wanted to touch you.”
The noise he makes is strained, but it still manages to make goose bumps prickle along my skin, and I can’t help but let my hands drag down his stomach until I reach the waistband of his jeans. My fingers find the belt loops and tug.
His body connects with mine, and we’re touching from shoulder to toes. It’s the first time inso long, and it feels so good that I think my eyes might be rolling back in my head.
I feel Beau’s breath rasp against my neck, hear his quick inhale. “Elsie baby.”
That nickname.It’s like a string connected to the space behind my belly button pulling tight, every single one of my nerve endings catching fire all at once.
“Beau,” I say back.
“God, you can’t sound like that,” he groans.
It makes a small laugh bubble inside me. “Like what?”
His lips brush my neck, the spot that always makes me quiver. Not a kiss, but a tease. A promise of more to come. “Like you want...” he trails off, and my mind fills in all the blanks, just like I imagine his is doing.
The breath in my lungs sucks right out of me like a vacuum on high. “What if I do?”
My knees go weak when Beau licks a stripe up my neck and bites down on my earlobe, tugging it between his teeth. I have to grip his shoulders for balance, hard enough that I imagine I’ll leave bruises on the muscle. The thought makes me apply more pressure.
“You always taste so good,” he says into my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. “I dream about it sometimes.”
“How my neck tastes?” I manage to ask.
His hands slip lower, landing on my ass, tugging me impossibly closer to him.
He shakes his head, the mustache and stubble scraping against my sensitive skin. I hope he’ll leave a mark too. “Not your neck, Elsie baby.”
I can hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears, feel the want settling lower and lower.
His hands tighten on my ass, gripping me. I can almost feel their roughness beneath my jeans. “Can I touch you? Please.” He sounds desperate, like a dehydrated man asking for water. “You don’t know how bad I want you.”
Warning bells shoot off in my head when I realize how close I am to saying yes, how close I am tobegging. Because we can’t do this. I can’t do this. Not yet.
My hands loosen from the tight grip they had on his shoulders, and I step back. My heart catches in my throat at the crestfallen look on his face. He doesn’t hide the hurt there, even when he knows I’m looking, and I’m stuck by how damn brave that is. Everyone always talks about my strength, but I’m just now figuring out how much of a coward I’ve been.
“I can’t, Beau. Not yet.”
He holds my gaze for so long, no doubt trying to read me, and I wonder if there’s anything on my face for him to decipher. I’ve been hiding my feelings for so long, I don’t even know how to show them.
“Okay,” he finally says, and some of the stiffness in my shoulders loosens. “But why?”
I feel exposed by his question, because it means he knows there’s a reason and that it has nothing to do with me not wanting him.
My hands shake at my sides, and I fight the urge to put them behind my back. Gathering all my courage, I say, “Because I don’t want to hurt you when I pull away.”
I watch the words land, but surprisingly, he doesn’t look hurt by them. He only looks like he’s absorbing them for later dissection. “Are you planning on pulling away?”
I shake my head, forcing myself to hold his gaze. “No, but I’m scared I might anyway.”
It’s perhaps the most truthful thing I’ve said in a long time. Because I can see now that’s what I did when I asked him to leave. I pulled away and retreated into myself to deal with everything on my own. Like I always have. And I thought it would fix it, just like every time before, but I’m starting to wonder whether that’s actually true.
