Page 23 of Waiting for the Rancher
“I’m fine.” Her eyes were growing heavy. After all, she hadn’t slept much the previous night and had been on her feet all day.
“Here.” Maverick shifted on the sofa toward her.
Her eyes flew open to find him drawing her in to his side and draping his arm across her shoulders. As he situated himself, he kept hold of her hand upon his knee and then let his other hand caress first her shoulder and then her upper arm before letting it dangle.
She wasn’t sure what to do or how to react, so she held herself stiffly.
“Relax,” he whispered near her ear. “You don’t always have to be so strong, you know.”
Was that what he thought? That she was trying to be strong? She almost snorted. Little did he know how weak she truly was, especially with the way her body was reacting to being against his.
Even so, she couldn’t say anything, couldn’t admit just how much he affected her. So she made herself sink against him, her shoulder and arm fitting into his side so well that she felt as though she were made to be there.
What was he thinking? Was he feeling the same way?
Surely he wouldn’t have initiated the contact and pulled her close if he wasn’t interested in having a different kind of relationship with her. After all this time, what if she could stop fighting against her attraction to him and see what developed?
Maybe he was finally ready for more. Maybe this was just the beginning of something new between them. Maybe he wanted to get closer.
He was silent for long moments, staring ahead at the flames in the fireplace. “I oughta go over and try to talk to him.”
She released an inward sigh. Maverick wasn’t thinking about her and how nice she felt beside him. No, he was still distracted by his thoughts of Sterling. He probably wasn’t even really noticing her presence.
She leaned her head back. She had to keep her perspective in place and remember Maverick was a womanizer through andthrough. If he was leading her on, it was because that’s the way he was and not because he really meant anything by it.
For now, though, she closed her eyes, intending to just enjoy being with him, tucked into his side and spending time with him.
She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when she awoke with a start, her eyes opening to darkness. Only a low glow remained from the fire, which had burned down to embers.
Even though her mind was hazy with sleep, her body quickly attuned to the fact that she was still on the sofa and curled into the warmth of Maverick’s body.
He was leaning back with his head resting against the edge of the sofa, one leg stretched out on the cushions and one down. Somehow she’d ended up lying beside him, partially on top of him, her head resting on his chest with his arm sprawled across her.
Mortification rushed through her, and her body flushed at so indecent a predicament. She was practically sleeping with Maverick. How had this happened?
She lifted her head just slightly, enough that she could see he was resting peacefully. His eyes were closed, his expression relaxed, his breathing even. No doubt he’d been as exhausted as she’d been, and they’d simply drifted to sleep as they’d been sitting and talking.
There was nothing to worry about. She’d extricate herself carefully and make her way up to the loft where Clarabelle had told her she could sleep.
As Hazel started to lift her hand, she halted as further embarrassment swept through her. Somehow her hand had slipped under his shirt and was now pressed against his bare abdomen.
She cringed and prayed her wandering hand hadn’t made its move while Maverick had been awake, that her wayward desires had only surfaced after he’d fallen asleep.
Her fingers were splayed over his stomach. And oh my, it was some stomach. Not that she had much experience in feeling stomachs. She had none, actually. But there was no disguising the fact that Maverick had a rock-solid abdomen—one worthy of a prize for best manly stomach in the West.
A manly stomach she had no business groping.
She started to inch her hand out from underneath his shirt.
But at her slight movement, he shifted and drew her into him more securely, her head tucked under his chin. His arm tightened, almost as if he didn’t want her to leave him.
She held herself motionless.
He released a sleepy breath, then he bent and pressed a kiss to the side of her head.
Her pulse halted abruptly. Was she dreaming? Or were his lips really touching her head near her temple?
The pressure ended a moment later, but he didn’t move his mouth away. Instead, the warmth of his steady breathing bathed her temple, making the moment all too real.
