Page 45 of Dallas Rivals

I glance over and see her crying openly, tears cutting through the dirt on her face.

Something tightens in my chest, and before I even think about it, I pull her into me.

She doesn’t hesitate. Just folds into my arms, small and breakable. And for the first time in a long, long while, I let someone stay there.

“Thank you,” she sobs against my chest.

“For what?”

“For keeping me safe.”

My first instinct is to tell her she’s wrong; she doesn’t need me, she never did.

But the words never make it past my lips.

Because when she looks up at me, eyes red and glassy, everything inside me goes quiet.

I lift a hand and brush away the tears on her cheek. Her skin is warm, trembling under my fingers.

It’s reckless.

It’s stupid.

But something in me—maybe the adrenaline, maybe the relief of still being alive—urges me forward anyway.

Before I can think, before I can stop myself, I lean in and decide that for once, I’ll deal with the consequences later.

I press my lips to hers carefully, testing the ground, trying to read her—trying to know if this is what she wants too. Cala closes her eyes and clings to my shoulders, standing on her toes to reach me.

The softness of her mouth ignites something deep inside me, a fire that’s different, that’s real. Her breath mixes with mine, and the kiss grows hot, urgent, like we’re both trying to erase the fear we just lived through.

Her fingers twist in my shirt, and for a moment I forget about the tornado, the barn—everything. There’s only her lips, warm and trembling, yet sure of what they want.

My heart is pounding out of control.

Damn it.

Her lips are firm, her fingers buried in my hair.

I want to take her right here, make her mine on the hay-covered floor—raw, fast, wild.

Like animals.

My hands slide down to her firm, incredible ass, and I bury my fingers there. I know she can feel my erection, and as my cock rubs against her stomach, she moans from deep in her throat.

I lose my fucking mind.

“Tell me to stop,” I demand between kisses and caresses. “Tell me because I don’t think I’ll be able to later.”

“Don’t stop.” she replies, and that’s all I need to hear to lay her down on a pile of hay on the floor and climb on top of her, holding her captive in my arms. Her hands find the hem of my shirt and slowly pull it up, brushing my body with the knuckles of her slender fingers.

I prepare myself to stop her, to beg her not to touch me, but strangely, I don’t feel a panic attack when I sense her proximity, and that makes me want to know what else I can experience with this woman that I haven’t done before, but at the same time, I don’t want to push it to the edge and break this feeling I have, this animalistic need.

I lift her jacket and T-shirt, exposing her perky breasts in a white bra. My tongue travels over those mounds while my hand unbuttons her jeans. She helps me pull them down, leaving her white cotton thong exposed to my eyes. Immediately afterward, I unbutton my jeans and free my cock. I need to bury myself between this woman’s legs.

“Condom,” she moans as I brush against her center.

Damn it, the condom! How the hell did I forget the damn condom?