Allie had big plans for the future. Falling for a cowboy wasn't part of it.
2. Avoid Wyatt Holcomb at all costs. (Except he was everywhere and kind of hard to ignore since he was hot-and a really nice guy.)
3. Avoid her parents. (Shouldn't be too hard to do since her father hated her and her mother pretended nothing was wrong.)
4. Stop thinking about Wyatt. (Which would be a lot easier if he wasn't so sweet... and he'd keep his shirt on.)
5. Decide what she really wants. (Instead of holding onto the past and the guilt.)
He froze, completely surprised. If his breath hadn't hitched, I wouldn't have known he'd heard me. He just stared at me, until I felt like a complete idiot.
I stepped back then, lifting my hand from his arm. It hurt. I hurt. I suspected his life was a lot more complicated than I knew, but I thought I hoped he cared about me too. Maybe I just wanted him to?
Night." The word was a garbled mess, and I headed back in the direction I'd come.
"Allie", he ground out, taking my hand and pulling me down one of the alleys between empty pens. It was darker, but I held on to him, my heart thumping in my chest.
He stopped and turned, his hands sliding up my bare arms to my shoulders, causing wicked delicious shivers the whole way. His hands, callused and rough, were feather-light along my neck, cupping my cheeks and tilting my head back as he bent low. His lips were so soft against mine.
I hadn't expected that. Or the way his breath mixing with mine made me dizzy. I swayed into him, gripping his dusty shirt tightly. His lips grew firm, a little demanding, and it was perfect. All I wanted was this - and more.
When his lips lingered, the heat between us took over. Pressed against him, his heartbeat bounced with mine. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me closer. His hand pressed against my bare back, hesitant, uncertain. My hands moved, pressing against his hard chest and sliding up to cup his neck, knocking his hat off, keeping him there.
Why can't I stop shaking?
It was okay. He was shaking too. I parted my lips, sucking in a ragged breath. His lips followed. He pressed us against the metal pens at my back, keeping us upright and tangled in each other. I didn't think, couldn't think.
Feeling was everything. Hot and sweet and happy, I ran my fingers through the close-cropped hair at the base of his neck, pulling him in. The tip of his tongue brushed my lower lip. I made a strange noise, tightening my hold on him, pressing myself flat against him.
There was no room between us, none. And it still didn't seem close enough. One of his hands traveled down my back, resting against the base of my spine, fitting me against him.
Sasha is part gypsy, stories have always played an important role in her life. Her passions have always been storytelling, Hollywood, history, and travel. It's no surprise that her books include a little of each. Her first play, Greek Gods and Goddesses was written for her Girl Scout troupe. She's been writing ever since. She loves getting lost in the worlds and characters she creates; even if she frequently forgets to run the dishwasher or wash socks when she's doing so. Luckily, her four brilliant children and hero-inspiring hubby are super understanding and supportive.
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