"Yes," she whispers, though her gaze doesn't waver. "Because the more I trust you, the more I forget all the reasons I shouldn't."
I cup her cheek, thumb brushing her jaw. "Then forget them for one night."
She exhales, shaky. "Just one night?"
"We'll see." My voice is rougher than I mean it to be.
“Emma is going home with Candy, but let me just check in with her,” she says, pulling out her phone.
Once everything is arranged, I take her hand and lead her to my truck. The drive back to the ranch is quiet except for the gravel crunching under the tires until she asks questions about the rodeo and what it means that Finn won. She doesn't pull away when I rest my hand over hers on the seat between us.
I tell her how all the rodeos rack up points until the big one and how he's set to make almost a million dollars this year if he wins at the finals.
"I had no idea there was that kind of money in it," she says.
"Yeah, we cowboys don't risk our health just for the fun of it," I smirk.
She shakes her head, smiling as I turn into my driveway.
I help her out of the truck, and once inside the house, the silence thickens. She stands by the door, looking like she might bolt. I give her space, leaning against the counter, hat in my hands.
"You can tell me to take you back," I say.
Her eyes search mine. Then she crosses the space herself.
She stops close enough that I catch the scent of her perfume mixed with arena dust and night air. Her fingers find the front of my shirt, fisting the fabric like Emma did with my sleeve, but this touch burns differently. Deeper. When she looks up at me, her pupils are wide in the dim kitchen light.
"I don't know what I'm doing," she breathes.
"Neither do I." The honesty scrapes out of me. "But I know I've been wanting to touch you since the first day you walked into my barn."
Her intake of breath is sharp, audible. "Asher..."
"Tell me to stop." My hands settle on her waist, thumbs finding the strip of skin where her shirt has ridden up. She shivers at the contact. "Tell me this is a mistake."
Without waiting for an answer, she rises on her toes and kisses me. Her lips are soft but urgent, a tentative press that quickly becomes something hungrier. I pull her against me, one hand sliding to the small of her back, the other cradling the nape of her neck. She makes a small sound in the back of her throat that vibrates through my bones.
When we break apart, her breath comes quick and shallow. Her fingers trace the line of my jaw, exploring and memorizing the terrain.
"I've thought about this," she confesses, voice husky. "Too much."
I back her against the kitchen counter, pinning her with my hips. "Tell me what you've thought about."
Her cheeks flush, but her eyes hold mine. "Your hands. How they'd feel on my skin."
I take the invitation, sliding my palm under her shirt, tracing the curve of her waist, feeling goosebumps rise in my wake. "Like this?"
"Yes," she breathes, arching slightly into my touch. "And your mouth."
I dip my head, brush my lips along her neck, feeling her pulse jump beneath my tongue. She gasps, her nails digging into my shoulders as I find the sensitive spot just below her ear. "God, Asher."
"I want to know every sound you make," I murmur against her skin, tasting the salt and sweetness there. "Every way you say my name."
Her hands fumble with the buttons of my shirt, fingers trembling slightly. "I haven't done this in... it's been a long time."
I pull back to look at her, seeing the vulnerability written across her features. "We go at your pace. Whatever you want."
"I want you to make me forget everything else exists." The admission comes out raw, desperate. "Just for tonight, I want to be someone who doesn't have to think about consequences."