Page 50 of Over the Limit

He shifts beside me and props his head on his hand. I can feel the weight of his stare on me, know he’s looking, but that doesn’t make my grin go away. It doesn’t make me self-conscious. It makes me feel seen. Regarded. Noticed.

“Your smile says it’s a good wish,” he murmurs.

“Hmm.” I turn my head to meet his eyes. “What was yours?”

“Can’t tell or it won’t come true,” he says.

“Uh-huh.” I snort but look back up at the sky in case another happens to fall from it. “I’ve never seen one before.”

“Never?” he asks incredulously.

“Never. I guess I never took the time to stop and look for one.”

“You can’t look for one, Blair. They just happen. Kind of like the most important things in life do.”

Turning slightly, I study him in the dark. The lines of his face. The wave to his hair. The strong line of his jaw. The intensity in his eyes.

I resist the urge to reach out and touch him. It owns my thoughts in ways it shouldn’t. In ways I want it to.

“You have grass . . .” He reaches out and uses the pad of his thumb to wipe grass off my cheek. His hand lingers.

My breath stutters in my chest and every part of me is keenly aware of him.

“Blair.” He says my name like an oath. Like a promise. Like it’s written in the sand and waiting for the water to wash it away. “I . . .”

“I know,” I whisper. But even I don’t know what I mean by that.

I know because I’m attracted to you too.

I know that if you kissed me right now the world might feel right for the first time in a long time.

I know that us even thinking this is wrong despite feeling so damn right.

“You bring something out in me that I like,” he states.

“I think that’s one of the best compliments anyone has ever given me,” I say softly.

Our gazes hold across the darkness as the air between us charges. And I want it to charge. To ignite. To explode into a wildfire.

I’ve been sitting here for weeks telling myself what a great guy Lachlan is. What a great friend he’s becoming. How the way I search for him in the paddock even if it’s just to lay eyes on him is because I’m lonely.

But I’ve been lying to myself.

I’ve been walking that fine line of want for some time now, so why am I still trying to walk it? I’m no longer with Rossi. I don’t have any ties to hold me back. I haven’t betrayed anyone unless we’re talking about myself.

It’s okay to want this. To want him.

Jesus, that feels good to think. To acknowledge. To say even if just in my head.

Lachlan has put more effort into me in the past few weeks than Rossi has in months.

I am okay.

And it is okay to want this.

I reach out to touch him. My fingertips grazing over his arm.

“This isn’t a good . . .” Lachlan shoves up to a seated position so that I’m forced to look at his muscled back. The confusion woven in his voice echoes in my ears.