“Now,” he grunts.
The release hits me like a freight train, violent and all-consuming, my entire body shaking as pleasure crashes over me.
And he follows, holding me tight as the moment pulls us both under.
Afterward, we stay there, breathing hard, skin slick with sweat, the world outside the truck completely forgotten. Then, unexpectedly gentle, he presses a soft kiss to my temple. And a tear slips from my eye before I even realize it’s there.
He pulls back immediately, hands coming up to frame my face, concern replacing heat in his expression. “Lola, you okay?”
I glance at the fogged windows, and I lean over, drawing an ‘L’ with my finger. Then I look back at him. “I’ve never… felt anything like that before.”
A real smile spreads across his face, and he brushes the tear away, pulling me back into his chest, his hand rubbing slow circles along my back as he holds me close. “I’ve got you, firefly.”
And my heart stumbles in my chest. Because this suddenly feels dangerously close to something real. And that scares the hell out of me.
He already told me that he doesn’t do relationships. He has a son. A ranch. A life I don’t fit into. And if this keeps happening, I won’t be able to separate the feelings from the sex. Not when he’s like this with me. Not when it feels so good in his arms.
This feels like walking into a fire head-on.
“What’s going on in your head?” he asks quietly.
I sit back slightly, fingers trailing along his jaw. “A lot,” I admit.
How much I want to see him again. How I know this is a one-night—or one-truck stand—but I feel something more powerful.
None of that comes out of my mouth. So instead, I say one thing I do mean. “Thank you,” I whisper softly. Like a strange goodbye. He isn’t a man you catch feelings for. And I’m running from a life I don’t want back home, who knows where I want to be in five years.
His home is here. His son is here. And I’m overthinking this way too much already. He studies me carefully. “Why does it sound like you’re about to run from me?”
I chew the inside of my cheek. “Because I am,” I choke out. The words hurt coming out.
He chuckles softly, like he expected it. “If that’s what you think is gonna happen, alright.”
I frown at him. This wasn’t part of the deal. There is no round two. I assumed he was the kind of guy who would push me away, not hold me closer.
“Firefly,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb along my chin, “My cock is still inside of you. And after what we just did, you want to spend the rest of your life just dreaming about this moment? Or do you want it to keep happening? Over and over again? All the different and new ways I can make you feel alive. You want to run away from that? Huh?”
And damn it, the answer is obvious. But that’s exactly why I need to walk away. “It’s not that I want to,” I admit. “It’s that I think I should.”
He tilts my chin up gently. “I can chase, darlin’. And I’m real good at it. We’ll do it your way if you need. But the end result’s still gonna be the same.”
Panic flashes, and the lie slips out before I can stop it. “I’m leaving town soon; it’ll be a lot of chasing.”
He doesn’t even flinch. He just shrugs, like obstacles don’t matter to him. “I’ve got contacts in New York.”
I shake my head. “You are not leaving your ranch, or your son, to chase some random girl across America.”
He chuckles, lips brushing mine again. “You don’t know what you’ve just unleashed in me, baby. And don’t ever put yourself down like that again. You hear me.”
I nod.
The kiss that follows is supposed to be a goodbye. But it doesn’t feel like one. It feels like a see you later. And as I finally pull away, one thing becomes painfully clear.
Cowboys do, in fact, fuck better. Even in the cramped back seat of a truck.
CHAPTER TEN
HUNTER