Page 37 of Pretty Little Scars

“Itisnice and quiet out here.” She turns and leans her hips on the counter next to me, and we stand here in silence for a long moment. “Wanna sit by the fire later?”

“Yeah, Duchess. I wanna sit by the fire.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

DARBY

Ididn’t sleep a wink last night.

A restless night isn’t unusual for me. There have been several times that I’ve sat out by the fire until the sun started to lighten the sky, just before dawn. I don’t know what it is about sitting in that spot behind my little cabin that I love so much. Actually, that’s a lie. I know. It’s peaceful out there, the fire is warm when the air cools down, and I like the way it sounds. The way it feels on my face and arms, and I love listening to the quiet all around me.

But I like it best when Tucker joins me.

Let’s be honest, I like everything better when the tall, sexy rancher is nearby, whether it’s by the fire, in his kitchen, or just about anywhere. I’ve grown to crave his touch, and I trust him implicitly. I don’t remember the last time that happened, aside from Holden, of course.

I want Tucker Hendrix. And not just in aplease get naked and do unspeakable things to my bodykind of way. Yes, I want that because he’s pure, unadulterated sex on a motherfucking stick, but I also want to talk to him. I want to ask him a million questions and make him laugh. Because that laugh? Yeah, there’s nothing better than when Tucker laughs.

I’ve just walked into the barn, ready to get started on stalls and feeding the horses, when I feel him step into the barn behind me. The air shifts when he’s near, and my skin prickles, and everything in me immediately lets go, as if my body knows that it can exhale.

“You beat me here every morning,” he says, his voice rough. I turn to smile at him and feel my heart stumble.

For fuck’s sake, warn a girl.

His hair is damp from a shower. His black T-shirt molds over his chest and arms so damn perfectly, I can see the outline of every muscle, and his forearm flexes as he brings his coffee to his lips for a sip, and holy Hades, I think I might have an orgasm just from looking at him.

“Duchess?”

“What? Oh yeah. I just got here a second ago. I haven’t even started working yet.”

“Hmm.” His green eyes journey down my body, over my breasts and hips, then back up again, and he takes another sip of coffee as he stares at me with lazy interest.

Tucker told me that he moves slow, and he wasn’t lying. He’s held my hand, touched my hair and face, and I’ve leaned on him while we watch the fire at night.

But he hasn’t kissed me, and I’m dying to know what he tastes like. What he feels like pressed against me. Does he make noises? Are his hands firm? I want to know everything.

“What’s going on in that pretty brain of yours?” He sets his mug on a nearby ledge.

“Are you ever going to kiss me?”

I blink rapidly, stunned that I said the words out loud, but before I can stammer through an apology, Tucker steps to me, his lips turned up in a small smile, and he drags his fingertips down my jawline.

“Is that what you want, pretty girl? You want me to kiss you?”

Well, now that he’s so close, I’m nervous. His eyes have darkened, and he tips my chin up as his gaze lowers to my lips.

I lick them, and his jaw tightens.

“Do you want to know why I haven’t tasted you yet?”

“Yeah, I want to know.” I had no idea my voice could do that. Go all breathy and gravelly.

“Because once I start, I won’t want to stop.” His thumb comes up to gently graze over my bottom lip, and his eyes find mine again. “I’ll want the taste of you on my tongue all the time, and I promised you that I’d be professional and keep my hands to myself.”

“I know.” I swallow hard. “But I think we’ve crossed that line, Tucker.”

“And are you okay with that?”

He’s watching me so closely, as if he’s studying me, looking for any sign that I might be uncomfortable.