Page 59 of The Lonely Road

I listen and watch Trafton out of the corner of my eye.

The man looks unremarkable, which is by design, except for the small scar on his left cheek. I happen to know he got it in a bar fight in Tangier, though he tells a different story every time someone asks.

He doesn’t approach. He’s doing what I did—he’s accumulating.

I make a decision.

I won’t deal with him tonight. I need more intel before I can do that.

I turn fully toward Taya.

Joy and Hunt end up on the dance floor in a suspended, unresolved manner—close enough to be unmistakable, far enough apart to be deniable.

Bree and Kaz are deep in what appears to be an argument about fence maintenance at her ranch, but it’s clearly about something else entirely.

I ask Taya to dance.

She says yes without hesitation.

We dance the way we danced at the auction—easy, unhurried, her hand in mine.

But it’s different now.

There’s a familiarity to it that wasn’t there before, the ease of two people who have had a gravel driveway moment and a French restaurant and a few coffees and an afternoon of chocolate cake, and all of it is in the dancing, all of it is present.

She pulls back just far enough to look at me, and there it is again—that look that is deciding something—and this time I know what it decides before she says anything.

“Come home with me.”

“Yes.”

I’m being reckless.

But I don’t care.

I want her.

I’ve been wanting her for days—for years, for a lifetime, even before I met her.

CHAPTER 14

taya

We dance in my cottage.

It’s become our thing.

I turn on the music, and it hums low and sultry.

Mason’s fingers trace the curve of my waist, rough and warm, sending little shocks of electricity straight to my core. His breath is hot against my neck, whiskey-sweet, and I can feel the hard press of him against my thigh.

I have never been aggressive when it comes to sex—not because I didn’t want to, but because I was afraid my advances would be rejected. With Mason, there’s a strange kind of freedom, one I’ve never experienced before, it makes me roll my hips, slow and teasing.

He groans softly.

His lips find my ear, teeth grazing the sensitive skin there, and his voice is a low growl. “You’re playing with fire, Taya.”

Yes, I am! I am so playing with fire and loving it.