Page 20 of Stuff My Turkey
"Grace it is," I agreed, voice rough with emotions I couldn't name.
Honey's smile was unguarded, lacking its usual sardonic edge. In this moment, there was no pretense between us, no fake relationship or forced proximity. Just two people sharing something wondrously real.
We left Duchess and Grace to bond, asking Jake to check on them regularly. Stepping out of the barn, we found the world transformed. The rising sun painted the hills in shades of gold and amber, burning off the morning mist that clung to the low spots. Our breath clouded in the crisp air as we trudged toward the house.
The pecan grove my grandfather had planted cast long shadows across the frost-covered ground. A red-tailed hawk circled overhead, its cry piercing the morning stillness. The ranch spread out around us, five hundred acres that had been in my family for generations. I'd never seen it through someone else's eyes before. Certainly never like this.
Neither of us spoke much on the walk back, both exhausted and filthy but somehow content. Halfway there, Honey stumbled over a rock, and I caught her automatically, my arm sliding around her waist. Instead of pulling away once she'd steadied, I left it there. She didn't object.
By the time we reached the porch, the full weight of our sleepless night had settled over us. We kicked off our muddy boots at the door, too tired to care about the mess we tracked onto the hardwood.
"I'm going to shower," Honey announced, making a face at her dirt-streaked clothes.
I nodded, too exhausted to form words. While she showered, I made coffee, moving through the kitchen on autopilot. My muscles ached from tension and exertion, and my eyelids felt weighted.
When she emerged in fresh pajamas, hair damp and face scrubbed clean, I took my turn in the bathroom. The hot water revived me slightly, washing away the grime but not the lingering emotion of what we'd shared. By the time I finished, wrapped in just a towel, the house had grown quiet.
I found Honey in the bedroom, curled on her side atop the covers, fast asleep. The pillow fortress she'd built down the middle of the bed had collapsed entirely, leaving no boundary between her side and mine. I watched her for a moment—the gentle rise and fall of her breathing, the way her damp hair curled against her cheek. I should have rebuilt that pillow wall, restored the barrier we'd agreed on to keep things professional.
Instead, I carefully lowered myself onto the mattress beside her, not bothering to resurrect our makeshift boundary. Within moments, sleep claimed me too.
I woke to warmth and the subtle scent of lavender shampoo mixed with something uniquely Honey. Sunshine streamed through the windows, telling me we'd slept well past morning and into the afternoon. Somehow during our sleep, we'd gravitated toward each other. Honey's back was pressed against my chest, my arm draped over her waist, our legs tangled beneath the quilt someone—probably her—had pulled over us.
I should have moved away before she noticed. Should have kept to our agreement. But her body fit against mine like she belonged there, and I couldn't bring myself to break that connection.
Then she shifted, a small movement that brought her hips flush against mine. Even through the layers of our clothing, the contact sent heat rushing south. I went still, suddenly very aware of my body's reaction to her closeness.
Honey made a soft noise, somewhere between a sigh and a moan, and pressed back more deliberately. Not asleep, then.
"Honey," I whispered, her name coming out huskier than intended.
She turned within the circle of my arms until we were face to face, her hazel eyes meeting mine. No teasing light, no sarcasm, just pure desire that knocked the breath from my lungs.
"Heath," she breathed, and the sound of my name on her lips snapped whatever thread of restraint I had left.
I closed the distance between us, my lips finding hers. The first touch was tentative, questioning, but when she responded—lips parting, body arching toward mine—tentative became hungry.
Her hands slid up my chest to my shoulders, nails dragging lightly as I deepened the kiss. I tasted coffee and something sweeter, uniquely her. One hand tangled in her hair while the other traveled down her side to her hip, pulling her closer.
"Is this...?" I managed between kisses. "Are you sure?"
"God, yes," she gasped against my mouth. "I've been wanting this since I saw you half-naked yesterday morning."
That confession sent a surge of heat through me that had nothing to do with the afternoon sun. I rolled us so she lay beneath me, my weight supported on my forearms. Her hair fanned out across my pillow, cheeks flushed, lips already swollen from my kisses.
"You're beautiful, Counselor," I told her, meaning it more than any words I'd ever spoken.
Her lips curved into a mischievous grin as she reached between us, hand sliding down my stomach to the waistband of my sleep pants. "And you're overdressed, Cowboy."
I kissed her again, harder this time, all pretense of restraint abandoned. Her legs parted, allowing me to settle between them, the thin fabric of our clothes doing nothing to disguise how much we both wanted this. When I rolled my hips against hers, she moaned into my mouth, the sound traveling straight to my cock.
My lips traveled from her mouth to her jaw, then lower to the sensitive skin of her neck. She squirmed beneath me, hands pushing impatiently at my clothes. I sat back long enough to pull my shirt over my head, then helped her out of hers.
The sight of her bare breasts made my throat go dry. Small but perfect, with dusky nipples that tightened under my gaze. I lowered my head, taking one peak into my mouth, circling it with my tongue before sucking gently. Her back arched off the bed, a strangled "Heath" escaping her lips.
I lavished attention on both breasts while my hand slid lower, under the waistband of her sleep shorts. She was already wet, slick heat greeting my fingers as I stroked her center.
"Please," she breathed, hips rising to meet my touch.
