Page 24 of Homestead Heart
“I’m not Beau,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I never will be. If that’s the kind of man you’re looking for…”
I shook my head, tracing my fingertip down the prominent ridge of his Adam’s apple, through the hollow between his collarbones, reveling in the warmth of his skin. Using my thumb, I popped a button of his shirt free to expose a few inches of chest and a thin dusting of golden brown hair.
“I know what I want, Landon,” I said.
I released another button, smoothing my palm over the hardened planes of his chest.
“I want a cowboy who doesn’t think twice about racing into a burning building to save my horses. Every single one of them.”
A third button came undone. When I slid my other hand inside his shirt, too, Landon sucked in a sharp breath. My fingers found the edge of medical tape, the coarse fabric of gauze that covered his burns.
“I want a cowboy who moves heaven and earth to get an entire town to build a barn for me,” I added, dragging my gaze up to his face.
Landon’s pupils were fully dark with arousal. He brought his hand up and curled his fingers around my wrist, cradling me gently as I reached for the fourth and final button. I set it loose and pushed his shirt open, leaning in to press a kiss over his heart.
Landon placed his palm against the back of my head, stroking down my hair. I slid his shirt off his shoulders, letting my fingers map every inch of gauze to catalog the full extent of damage he’d suffered for me without saying a word of complaint. I continued, my voice softer and lower this time.
“I want a cowboy who calls me a city girl like an insult, even though he can’t take his eyes off me.”
Landon trailed his knuckles down my arm. With aching slowness, he slid his hand around my waist, down over my hip, and into my back pocket where the weight of his palm rested against my ass. It wasn’t a squeeze, and it certainly wasn’t a grab. With the slightest pressure, he guided me closer, nestling my body against his.
“That’s a shame,” he murmured.
I frowned, confused.
“Why?”
Without releasing his hold on me, Landon reached past my shoulder and shut the door behind us.
“I was thinking about calling you peaches. You always smell like them. But now…”
He paused and swept his thumb over my lower lip.
“Now you taste like them, too. Seems to suit you a lot better thancity girlanyway.”
I nuzzled my nose against his with a smile and a quick kiss.
“I could get used to that.”
Landon hummed in response, cupped his palm to my cheek, and our mouths met in a heated kiss—tangled tongues, grasping hands, and heavy breathing. My hand drifted lower, grazing the growing bulge in his jeans. He grunted and twisted his hips away.
For a split second, I worried that I’d gone too far or moved too fast. Until I noticed the tips of Landon’s ears were bright red.
“Your grandmother would kill me if I didn’t take you out to dinner first,” he said.
“I can handle Grandma. Unless you’re having second thoughts and you’re just looking for excuses.”
Landon met my gaze. As I unhooked his belt, he didn’t stop me, didn’t protest. His only response was arching his hips forward. When I unzipped his fly and my fingers found his cock, his stomach contracted and the tendons in his neck stood out. His face was now beet-red.
“Don’t forget to breathe, Landon,” I said, half laughing. “You look like you’ve never—”
I stopped mid-sentence.
Oh.
Landon bit the inside of his cheek. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed and his gaze slid away. He didn’t like to talk very much, but his body language spoke loud enough for him.
“Landon,” I whispered, brushing a kiss at the hollow of his ear. “Have you—have you been with anyone before?”