Page 29 of Don't Burn Bridges
He leaned toward her, voice low enough for only her to hear. “Want to come back to my place for a bit?”
She blinked. “To your?—”
“I have my own apartment in the bunkhouse.” He flashed a lazy smile. “It’s got a couch, a TV, and no toddlers trying to flush anything.”
The invitation was casual, but she felt the flutter in her stomach anyway. Not from nerves. From wanting to say yes.
She tilted her head, weighing her options. Part of her wasn’t ready. But a bigger part wanted to be near him again. Wanted more of whatever had been building between them all day.
Her gaze lifted to his. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
Chapter 14
“Watch the step.”
Seth pushed open the exterior door that led straight into his apartment, flipped on the light, and stepped aside so Shylo could go in first. He always used this entrance when he could. It kept him out of the main part of the bunkhouse—and spared him the shit he’d catch about who he brought home. Not that he brought many women there. He usually went to their place instead. It was easier to leave when he wanted to.
The bulb flickered once, then steadied, casting a soft glow over the space. The apartment wasn’t big, but it was more than most of the other hands had—a bedroom and bathroom tucked off to one side, a small living area with a worn couch, recliner, and scarred coffee table, and a compact kitchenette along one wall with a fridge, microwave, and sink.
A second door on the far wall led into the rest of the two-story bunkhouse—downstairs with its full kitchen, long dining table, and den with a TV, pool table, and poker table, and upstairs with bedrooms and bathrooms. This space, though, stayed his. Separate. Private.
He shut the door behind them, the solid click echoing through the apartment. The hum of the small fridge filled the space, and the air carried the faint scent of soap and leather.
“Not exactly five-star.” He dropped his keys on the counter, the sound sharp in the stillness, and moved toward the kitchenette, needing something to do with his hands. The fridge door opened with a soft, suctioned pull, and cool air caressed his forearms. “I’ve got ginger ale, beer, or water.”
“Um... I’ll take a beer if you’re having one.”
He grabbed two chilled bottles of Coors and shut the door. When he turned, she stood near the center of the room, taking it in. There wasn't a trace of judgment on her face. Only curiosity.
“It’s nice. Feels... comfortable.”
He nodded once, more to himself than anything, as he removed the bottle caps. “It does the job. Gives me privacy from the rest of the ranch hands when I want it.”
He crossed the short distance between them and handed her a bottle. Their fingers brushed together—barely—but it sparked something that burrowed beneath his skin. He guzzled some of his beer, but the cold liquid did nothing to cool the desire simmering inside him. When he lowered the bottle, his gaze drifted back to her.
He searched for any sign she was nervous about being there but didn't find one. Instead, she met his gaze with a smile that made his pulse kick up another notch.
Whatever had been simmering between them all afternoon refused to be ignored.
Dust still clung to the hem of her jeans from the trail, a small reminder that she'd spent the afternoon beside him.
He set his beer on the counter, stepped into her space, and stared down at her.
“I've been thinking about that kiss all evening.”
Color bloomed in her cheeks, and she licked her lips as though savoring the memory. “Me too.”
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
Slowly, he leaned in, and she met him halfway. Her lips brushed his in a tentative touch that lasted only a heartbeat before she kissed him again with more certainty. He answered immediately, one hand settling at her waist while the other cupped the side of her neck.
The kiss grew naturally from there. Their mouths moved together with growing confidence until she parted her lips for him. He accepted the invitation with a slow stroke of his tongue, and she welcomed him with one of her own.
With every passing second, the rest of the world faded until all that mattered was the woman in his arms.
When they finally eased apart, they were both breathing harder.
His thumb drifted across her cheek as a sigh escaped her.
