Page 11 of A Cowboy Home for Christmas
For the first time in years, I don’t talk myself out of wanting him. For the first time, I listen to what I want, and not what everyone else needs.
I’m across the room in a heartbeat. My arms coil around his neck. I’ve caught him off guard, too. I know, because he stumbles back into his room with my insistence. He’s not a scrawny little man I can push around. Barker is all muscle and strength.
I slam the door shut with my foot. Once we’re alone with no possibility of my daughter’s walking in on us, I kiss him. Hard, heavy, and hot. My mouth crashes against his. Heavens to Betsy, I’m not prepared for the explosion in my middle. Our teeth click. Our tongues collide, and lap like we’ve been waiting for this our entire lives. And it feels that long, if not longer. But not long enough.
He pulls away. “This is a mistake.” His ragged breaths only turn me on. The man has no idea how many times I’ve played this moment through my head.
“Why? I’m not married anymore. You’re single.” I pull the back of his head, bringing his mouth to meet mine.
“You’re hurting,” he says against my kiss.
“I’m not hurting.”
“You’re angry.”
“I’m not angry!” I yell the words and realize how angry and hurt I am.
“Lauren ...”
“You want this. How many times did we stare at each other across the sofa, or the kitchen table ... all the times you were at my house, wanting just this, but I was married to your brother. Off limits.” I graze his lips lightly. “I’m not off limits, anymore.”
“I’m not doing it like this. I’m not going to be your anger sex.”
“Then what are you going to be?” I snap the words.
“The husband my brother wasn’t.”
The word rings in my head. I hate the word. I hate what it means. What it’s done to me. What I sacrificed.
“Husband?” I step away from him. He lets me go. “Is that what this holiday is? Putting us in adjoining rooms? Some sort of plan to ... what? Sleep with me and then marry me?”
“Eventually, yes. Both.”
“Wow.” I run my fingers through my hair, turning my back to him. “Don’t even try to hide your ulterior motive.”
“I don’t hide things from you. I never have.”
I spin back to face him. “You’re just like your brother.” The harsh words slip out of my mouth. I don’t mean them, but who the hell does he think he is? Planning to marry me? Like I’m some prize. Or worse, like I’m the pathetic knocked-up nobody I was seven years ago. Alone. No family. Pregnant with an up-and-coming rodeo cowboy who couldn’t taint his reputation.
“I’m nothing like my brother,” he grits out the words.
And I am nothing like the scared girl I’d once been. I’m not timid or shy. I don’t bow down to the false promises of any man.
I straighten and cross my arms over my front. “You’ve just decided you’re going to step in where he left off. Without even talking to me.”
“I planned to talk to you, but apparently you’re only interested in fucking me. No strings attached.”
I scoff. “You say you’re nothing like him, but you see a damsel in distress and swoop in to sweep her off her feet.”
“I’ve never seen you as a damsel in distress.”
“Don’t you? What do you think happened when he found out I was pregnant? He promised me the world, and I got a shotgun wedding at city hall. How is that any different than what you’re offering.”
“I am there. Whenever I’m not working, I’ve always been there. To drop off Lark at riding lessons, or pick up Clara from singing class. I was there when you needed the goddam toilet seat fixed, and I mowed the lawn, and fed the horses. Don’t compare me to a man who married you and abandoned you. Don’t you fucking dare.”
He’s right. It’s not fair. But I’m angry. I’m so fucking angry.
Angry at Gunnar.
