Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
He lowers his forehead to mine. “You don’t have to be brave with me.”
I freeze in his arms as a battle between relief and self-control is waged inside me. I shouldn’t be seeking comfort in a man’s arms. It doesn’t feel right, but it also feels much more than right.
He brushes his thumb against my cheek once, then again, more slowly. I don’t move away.
“Elena.” The way he says my name is loaded with so many things. Comfort, desire, solidity, steely warmth.
When I dare to meet his gaze, his eyes are focused on my mouth, and something hot and reckless flares through me, cutting through grief and fear and months of wanting not to want a man who isn’t Tyler.
I’ve tried to ignore Buck’s strong presence, and Weston’s easy heat, and Calder’s dangerous quiet, because none of it is supposed to belong in my life, but my body’s been betraying me for months.
I stop thinking and tip my head toward his.
CHAPTER 18
ELENA
Buck goes still for half a beat, like he’s giving restraint one last chance. Then he slides a hand over my hair and brings his mouth to mine.
The way he holds me is gentle, but his kiss is confident and determined. He claims my lips with a hunger that feels both raw and certain. The scent of him surrounds me, and the way he tastes has me making a small sound that I barely recognize as my own against his mouth.
His hand tightens at the back of my head, and he deepens the kiss, pulling me closer against his hard body. My fingers clutch at his shirt, trying to drag him closer still, though there’s nowhere for him to go that isn’t already against me.
His shirt is soft, but the muscles beneath are rock solid, and I run my hands over them shamelessly. The scruff of his beard brushes my face, and when I realize I’m craving more of the sensation all over my body, I break away.
Both of us are breathing hard.
“I shouldn’t be doing this in your office.” His voice is rough, almost beyond recognition, and I don’t miss the fact that his only reservation is about our location.
I tuck loose strands of hair behind my ears, though it’s going to take much more time to sort out what I’m feeling inside. “That’s the most sensible thing anyone has said all day.”
His mouth twitches, but his eyes stay dark and focused on mine. “Have dinner with me.”
I stare back at him, still half lost and trying to figure out how I feel about what just happened. “Dinner?” I repeat stupidly.
He brushes his thumb over my lower lip, and I shiver. “Yes, dinner. I’ll get carryout, and we can take it to my place, so you can have a night off from being Principal Ramirez.”
It’s a good point. If we go to the restaurant, we’re sure to run into parents or other people who have questions about the fire. Speculation is surely running wild now, and I’ve had my limit of answering questions today.
But being alone with Buck, at his house, would be dangerous, and he must see my hesitation.
“Just dinner?” My voice is nearly a whisper.
He slides his hand to my chin and tips it upward, so I meet his eyes. “If dinner’s all you want, then that’s all it will be. Dinner, quiet, and a night off from all your responsibilities. If you want me to sit across from you and not touch you, I’ll do that, but if you come with me, you should know I’m done pretending I don’t want you.”
His kiss already told me that, but my mouth opens in a gasp at hearing him say it so plainly.
My pulse pounds, and I speak before I can second-guess myself. “You don’t have to pretend.”
He studies my face, then nods once. “Good.”
Buck drives us toward the edge of town, down a heavily wooded road. As he slows his truck to turn into a driveway, he points toward the cabin we just passed. “That’s Calder’s place. Weston’s house is further up the road.”
“Oh, you’re all neighbors?”
“I had a big lot and parcelled my land when they moved here. It’s convenient being close.”
Buck’s house sits far back from the road and looks as solid as he is, meant to handle deep snow and hard winters. It’s built of dark wood and stone, more practical than showy, and is surrounded by ponderosa pines and Douglas firs.
Inside, it’s exactly what I would have expected if someone had asked me to imagine how he lives. His home is solid and functional instead of stylish. It’s lived-in, but there’s very little clutter. Everything is useful, rather than decorative, but the lighting makes the space feel warm.
He sets the big bag of carryout from Moon Ridge’s only restaurant on his kitchen counter and starts unpacking the containers of roasted chicken, potatoes, salad, and rolls wrapped in foil, which are still warm when he opens them.