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It was everything he’d suspected it would be. And more, because it happened faster than he’d thought possible. At the first touch of her mouth beneath his, fire leapt to life and raced along every nerve.
She’d stiffened for an instant. The still-functioning part of his brain ordered that if she stayed that way, he had to stop. But the moment the thought fully formed she went soft and pliant. He heard her make a tiny sound that echoed what he was feeling, stunned and at the same time hungry for more.
He deepened the kiss, probing, tasting. How could something be so hot and so sweet at the same time? It was like the spicy sweet potato dish they sometimes had when Mom was in the mood, neither flavor overwhelming the other, and together an impossible taste unlike any other.
Just as Kaitlyn Miller was unlike any other.
And when he felt her tongue move tentatively forward, the first sign of his own fierce wanting returned, it almost put him on his knees. He ran his own tongue along the even ridge of her teeth then past, swiping over hers, relishing the tiny sound she made again.
As an experiment, the kiss was conclusive. As a measurement of desire, it was off the charts. It was all he could do, took all his willpower not to push harder, harder than he knew she was ready for. He wanted her, more than he’d wanted anyone. But no matter how little time he’d known her, he knew enough to know if he pushed he would lose.
And he didn’t want to lose. Not this, not her.
He broke the kiss. Stepped back. Spent a silent moment savoring the almost dazed look in her eyes, because he knew it meant she’d felt what he’d felt. This was different. Special. Together, they were incendiary.
“That’s why,” he said with emphasis. Then, with the best casual tone he could manage, he added, “See you tomorrow, Kaitlyn.”
He walked away. Walked away knowing that this woman, who had looked so broken when she’d thought he’d wanted sex as payment yet so strong when she apologized for thinking it, was unlike any other he’d ever met. And he wanted more than anything to unravel the puzzle that she was.
And he couldn’t stop himself from, at the end of the hall, looking back to be sure she was safely inside.
He was a Texan, after all.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“He’s a goodman, Kaitlyn. A true Texas gentleman.”
She sat on the edge of the bed in her room at the inn, her grip tight around her phone as Nick spoke.
“Yes,” she agreed, her thoughts fixated on the way he’d proven that last night, kissing her until her toes tingled and then walking away. Walking away, when she knew if he had pushed even a little harder, she would have given him everything.
And almost wishing he had. Or, more shockingly, that she had.
All the hard lessons of her life piled up to try and outweigh those precious, amazing few moments, trying to tell her she was a fool for believing, even for a moment, that what her senses, what her body told her was true.
Some men would, perhaps had to, take sex wherever they could get it.
Rylan Rafferty wasn’t one of them.
A wave of sadness swept over her. As painful as it would be to have him once and never again, she wasn’t sure never having him at all might not be worse. And for the first time she had the thought that perhaps this was how her mother felt when she went on one of her sprees with a new man.
The moment the thought formed she recoiled from it. Because there was absolutely nothing similar about those men and Ry. Nothing.
“—you all right?”
She snapped back to reality at Nick’s question. “I think I’m supposed to be asking you that.”
“I’m fine. Good, in fact. Incision’s sore, but I expected that. But honestly, honey, I think I feel better already.”
That news lightened her mood considerably. “I’m so glad, Nick.”
They talked on for a while, mostly about the work she’d been doing. Then a nurse arrived to check on him, and he had to go. But he took time to say one last thing.
“I think Rylan is an honest man, Katie. He might hide from his feelings, but he would never fake them.”
And then he was gone, leaving her staring at her phone, wondering what on earth that was supposed to mean. Because Nick couldn’t know how she’d let herself get so scrambled when it came to Ry. He was perceptive, and smart, just as Ry was, but… Had she somehow betrayed to him how she felt? He did know her better than anyone. But had she really somehow given away that Ry got to her in ways no man ever had?
She gave herself an inward shake, irritated at how easily she lost herself in useless pondering when it came to Ry. She didn’t know why he’d kissed her, but she’d be a fool to read into it.
