Page 125 of Lost Trust

“Rina.”

She turns, and our eyes meet. The look I see in hers makes me stop breathing, and she launches herself at me.

Her fingers fist the front of my flannel, both hands gripping the fabric as she yanks me toward her.

Then her mouth crashes onto mine.

Everything inside me detonates. Weeks of tension. Weeks of wanting her. Weeks of pursuing her as she kept me at arm’s length. Gone in a heartbeat.

I catch her around the waist and kiss her back.

She kisses me like she’s been holding this in just as long as I have. I walk her backward until her back meets the railing. Her hands slide into my hair, pulling me closer, and I lose whatever common sense I had left.

I nip at her lower lip, and she opens for me. The kiss deepens.

Her breath catches when my mouth moves along her jaw and down her throat, and she tips her head back, giving me access.

My hands settle at her waist.

She moves closer, pressing herself against me, and my hardening cock begins to throb behind the button of my jeans.

I want her.

Fuck, I want her.

I want to get her out of here. Take her somewhere private. Somewhere I can slow this down and take my time tasting every inch of her.

Her fingers tighten in my hair, knocking my hat from my head. It lands somewhere on the wooden deck.

I groan against her mouth.

Suddenly, a warning bell I can’t ignore starts going off in my mind.

What changed from the dance floor till now?

My hard-on tells me it doesn’t matter, but the voice in my head is telling me it does.

I wrench my mouth from hers.

She stares at me, stunned and breathless, her hands still gripping my shirt.

I’m breathing just as hard.

But something isn’t right.

And I don’t know what the hell it is yet.

“How much have you had to drink?” I ask.

She blinks at me. “What?”

The confusion on her face tells me that I’m off base. I lean down and search her eyes. They’re bloodshot, like she’s been crying.

Then it dawns on me.

The rodeo.

Her fucking ex.