Page 34 of Sinful Sharing

Walk away, Roman.

Instead, I keep staring at Taylor, at his stubborn jaw, messy hair, and those lips that trigger the unholiest of thoughts. The room falls silent. Outside, the wind rattles the front porch. Inside, I can hear my pulse.

Walk the fuck away.

Taylor swallows, his Adam’s apple bouncing. A motion that should mean nothing, but it’s like striking a match. Now, all I’m thinking about is licking and sucking his throat. My control unravels even more when he glances down at his wrist, then back at me. I’ve spent forty-five years on this earth. Yes, I know when a man wants me to fuck him. Problem is, Taylor is the last person I should want.

“Don’t.”

He wets his lips. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t look at me like that.”

The words come out rougher than I intend. A faint blush creeps up his cheeks, making me wish I could rewind this conversation. Because now, there’s no pretending. I can’t hide behind my grumpiness. Our mutual attraction sits between us. Visible. Breathing. Alive as fuck. For a moment, neither of us moves. I’m not sure I’m capable. I can’t remember the last time I wanted something so badly.

But it would be a huge mistake to surrender.

Finally, I force myself to step back. Distance. I fucking need distance. Losing proximity feels painful, but necessary. I drag my hand through my hair. “You’re all patched up.”

Taylor glances down at the bandage, then back at me. “That’s it?”

I read the message in his eyes. A low, strained laugh escapes me. The words slip out before I can stop them. “If you had any idea how much self-control I’m using right now, you wouldn’t ask that.”

His eyes widen slightly. I close mine for half a second. Too goddamn late. The truth is finally out. Those are only words, though. I haven’t done anything.

But as we stare at each other, I know with absolute certainty there will be no coming back from this. Not after seeing the same hunger reflected in Taylor’s eyes. Not after realizing these pants have failed to hide my lust for him.

Clearing my throat, I jerk my head toward the first-aid kit. “There are painkillers if the discomfort gets too unbearable,” I say.

“Thanks,” he mutters to my back, and I don’t miss the disappointment in his voice. Not for the first time—maybe not for the last time, either—I wish he were someone else. Having an intense attraction to someone I can’t have is a terrible feeling to endure.

Then again, it won’t be for much longer. Soon, Taylor will be going home. Soon, this attraction will be a distant memory. Life will go back to normal.

But as I step through the back door, I’m not sure that will ever be the case—

“You’re such a goddamn hypocrite.”

Whipping around, I meet Jude’s knowing smirk.

20

Taylor

“Wipe that grin off your face,” Roman grumbles. “It’s just a quick ride.”

The old pickup creaks beneath me as I climb into the passenger seat, unable to hold back my smile. It feels ridiculous to be this excited over a trip into town. Still, after weeks of being surrounded by endless mountains, the thought of seeing civilization again feels like Christmas morning.

Roman circles around the hood and climbs behind the wheel. The truck groans to life. He shifts into gear, and we roll away from the ranch, soon winding down the mountain road. I relax in the seat, soaking up the passing view through the window. Pale winter sunlight filters through the towering pine trees, making the frost-covered landscape sparkle like scattered diamonds. It’s serene. And it’s now that I realize I haven’t thought about home in a while. I certainly haven’t missed the city.

I’m not looking forward to leaving this peacefulness at all.

The thought hits me like a gut punch. I shift my weight on the seat, pushing it firmly to the back of my mind. Next year, I’ll be heading to law school, exactly where I’m destined to be. There’s nothing here in Hallow Creek for me, anyway.

“Are you okay?” Roman asks.

“Yes.”

I glance sideways at him. He’s wearing his usual dark sweater beneath a thick canvas jacket, faded jeans, and a battered cowboy hat. A heavy wool coat is draped over the seat behind him, ready for when we stop. One hand rests casually on the steering wheel while the other shifts gears with practiced ease. It’s the movement of those hands that triggers memories of yesterday. What began as a simple wound dressing led to something that left me so confused, yet so turned on, and my body still has no idea which direction to lean. In society’s eyes, Roman is off-limits. Where I’m concerned, it doesn’t matter that he’s Dad’s stepbrother. When I look at Roman, all I see is a man whose simple touch and heated stares made me feel good.