Page 16 of Wild and Wanted

‘That’s still no excuse,’ she said, getting her train of thought back on track, ‘to force a clumsy, unwanted kiss on a guy I’ve seen twice, met once and barely know.’

He shook his head slowly as his gaze drifted to her mouth and back. ‘It wasn’t unwanted.’

Stevie’s lungs did that seizing again. What? Was he saying that he’d wanted it too? Or was that his subtle way of saying that while it wasn’t unwanted it had been clumsy?

‘It just wasn’t…’ His face was set in firm, serious lines as he searched for the word. ‘Wise.’

Well – duh. That was the understatement of the year. She nodded. ‘No, it wasn’t.’

‘You’re here for a month. You’ve got a big life ahead of you, a lot of dreams and a lot of success coming your way, and maybe that scares you. Or maybe you’ve been wearing that ring a long time and you’re on the cusp of a whole new life now and you’re ready to leave the old one behind. That’s only natural. But I’m not that guy. I’m not a first-time kind of guy.’

More heat flooded Stevie’s cheeks. Is that what he thought? That she’d decided to trade in her purity ring and he was her… first draft pick? It had been one kiss. One awkward, overly enthusiastic kiss, and she opened her mouth to say just that except she had been fantasising about Clay since yesterday.

Maybe on some kind of subconscious level, he wasn’t far off the mark?

But he was right. Clay Calhoun didn’t look like the kind of man a girl chose to gently initiate her into the joy of making love. No. He looked like the kind of man a girl picked when she wanted to know all the carnal ways of the flesh.

When she wanted to torch her life and have it ruined for all other men.

She lowered her eyes at the mere thought of that scenario, her gaze falling on her ring. ‘I suppose you think it’s silly,’ she murmured as her thumb pushed at the band from the underside, rotating the ring around her finger.

He seemed like such a… man of the world, walking through it with an ease Stevie could only hope to emulate. She must seem hopelessly naïve in comparison.

The fingers under her chin lifted again, the hot searchlight of his gaze intent on her once more as she met his eyes.

‘No.’ He shook his head as his fingers slid away, his expression softer now but no less serious. ‘I don’t. I don’t think anyone who takes a solemn vow and honours it, particularly when the societal pressure to break it is constant and everywhere, is silly. I think it’s admirable.’

Stevie blinked. Ohhh… She’d have thought someone as worldly as Clay would think purity rings childish and naïve. Think she was childish and naïve. She hadn’t expected admirable. And if anybody else had said it, Stevie might have wondered if they were being facetious. She probably wouldn’t have felt complimented by such a staid descriptor.

But coming from him? This guy who imbued the word admirable with a quiet kind of respect? Like it was his highest form of praise? Suddenly Stevie didn’t feel so gauche.

‘But…’ A small smile tugged at one side of his mouth. ‘You should probably ask for my sister to do your lesson tomorrow.’ He took a step back, his hand sliding from her waist as he touched the brim of his Stetson. ‘See you around.’

Stevie shivered a little at the inherent promise in those three little words despite the blast of sunshine overhead. She watched as he led Gertie away, tracking the unhurried pace of both man and beast as they ambled side by side across the soft dirt of the ring, the hug of denim pulling across butt cheeks that look tight as autumn apples.

As he passed through the open gate he stopped and glanced over his shoulder, his eyes piercing hers across the distance. ‘It wasn’t clumsy,’ he said. ‘The kiss. It was nice.’

And then he turned away and while nice may have been a relatively insipid word to describe a kiss, she was suddenly, slowly, grinning like a loon.

6

CLAY

Nice.

Had Clay ever described a kiss like that before? Nope. In fact, prior to Stevie Everhart laying a smacker on his mouth, he’d have said kisses between two people should never be nice. They should never be polite. They should be sexy, sizzling, scintillating. Hot and heavy. Full of promise – even the quick ones.

Hell, they should be downright dirty.

But then Stevie had fumbled the kiss, that chaste, closed-mouth kiss. Her lips landing awkwardly on his but clinging with gusto and chasing his withdrawal, unwilling to let him go. And the sound of her breathing filling his head – husky and heavy – not to mention that tiny little whimper somewhere at the back of her throat as he’d broken their lip lock.

That whimper had punched him straight in the chest.

It had been three days and he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it. Thinking about how he so very nearly didn’t pull back. How he’d almost leaned in and given Stevie Everhart both barrels, slid his hands onto her ass and shown her exactly what her clumsy kiss was doing to his body.

How he wouldn’t mind going back for seconds.

Which was why he’d ridden to the other end of the ranch with the other cowhands for the last two nights, checking on the herds and patrolling fences, camping out beneath the stars and eating his mother’s beans around the campfire. Anything to not be anywhere near Stevie because, as he’d told her, he wasn’t a first-time kind of guy.