Page 37 of Where the Roses Bloom
“You good?” he asked.
I let out a breath laugh that sounded more like a moan than I intended. “Um…depends on your definition of ‘good’.”
“You don't…you nervous?”
I gaped at him. “No…no, not nervous at all. Just…turned on?”
Rhett chuckled low in his throat, his voice a low rasp when he spoke again. “Me too, rosebud. Me too.”
We pulled into the gravel drive slow. The porch light was still on—soft and gold. My little Bug sat beside Rhett’s truck like some kind of storybook punctuation mark. Two lives, parked side by side.
He cut the engine but didn’t move to get out. Neither did I. We just…sat there. Staring straight ahead like the weight of what was about to happen needed a breath before it could settle. The air between us buzzed, thick with all the things we hadn’t said out loud—how long we’d wanted this, how close we’d come to pretending we didn’t.
Rhett finally turned toward me, one hand still braced on the wheel, the other coming up to touch my cheek.
“You sure?”
I leaned into his hand. “Yeah,” I whispered. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
He swallowed hard. Nodded once.
Then slid out of the truck, rounding it quick to open my door.
I opened my door and made to get out too, but Rhett was already there, catching me in his arms and swinging my legs up into a bridal carry. We laughed together, tea leaves on his breath, lavender scones on mine. He strode up the old porch steps and then we were through the door, climbing the stairs, my heart in my throat.
We stopped on the landing, Rhett putting me down so hecould push me gently against the wall, lips trailing down my jaw. The bedroom was right there, but neither of us wanted to wait.
“Jesus…” he growled. “You know how bad I want you, Willow? I could take you right here and die a happy man.”
“Then do it,” I breathed. “I want?—”
He cut me off by pulling me off my feet again, that handsome face cracked into a wide smile. “No, ma'am…I'm fuckin’ you good and long andwelltonight.”
He carried me the rest of the way with that promise still hanging in the air between us—hot, heavy, delicious.
The bedroom door swung open, and before I could take another breath, he was setting me down on the edge of the bed like I was the most precious thing he’d ever laid hands on. I wanted to look around, take in his space…but Rhett had other plans. His eyes swept over me, slow and hungry, his chest rising like he was trying to calm himself.
“I’ve dreamed about this,” he said hoarsely, brushing a finger along my jaw. “You. In this room. In my bed. Maybe even before I met you in the wakin’ world.”
“You don’t have to dream anymore,” I whispered, tugging the hem of his shirt.
He lifted it over his head in one smooth motion, and I swear I forgot how to breathe. Broad chest dusted in dark hair, all muscle and tension and desire drawn tight.
“Your turn,” he rasped. “If you want to.”
I nodded. My fingers shook a little, but not from nerves—just from the sheer pressure of want, of how badly I needed him to see me. I tugged my sundress up and over my head, letting it fall to the floor beside his shirt.
Rhett stared. His mouth parted. “Holy fuck.”
I was in nothing but my underwear, and the way he looked at me made me feel like I was made of stardust and sin. Hemoved in slow, sinking to his knees in front of me, hands sliding up my thighs, pushing them gently apart.
“You’re so fuckin’ pretty,” he murmured, pressing kisses to my belly, my hips, the tops of my thighs. “Could spend hours just lookin’ at you. Tastin’ you. Makin’ you shake.”
My breath hitched as he mouthed over the edge of my panties. “Rhett…”
He looked up, voice ragged. “You say the word and I’ll stop. You want slow, I’ll give you slow. You want soft, I’ll give you sweet. But baby, if you let me…I’ll make you mine tonight.”
I reached for him, hands threading through his hair. “I’m already yours,” I said. “I’ve been yours since the minute I got stranded in your driveway.”
