Page 49 of October’s Cowboy Beau

He did. Slow at first, his hand sliding into my hair, then deeper, until I had to grab his belt to stay on my feet. His beard scraped my jaw. I’d missed that, and it had only been two nights.

“Time to move on to step three,” I said against his cheek.

“There’s a step three?”

“There are a lot of steps.”

He picked me up like I didn’t weigh a thing and carried me down the hall while I laughed into his neck.

“This isn’t step three.”

“I’m improvising.” He set me on the edge of the bed. The quilt was a mess, and one pillow had ended up on the floor. Beau made his bed every morning. I’d watched him do it.

I looked up at him. “Didn’t you sleep last night?”

He crouched in front of me and pulled off one of my boots. “Some.”

“Beau.”

“Not much.” He let the boot fall to the floor and reached for the other one. His voice stayed even, but he didn’t look at me. “I kept thinking about you driving to Denver.”

My throat went tight. I’d spent the night in the cabin making lists I didn’t need and telling myself he’d be fine. Beau was always fine. Except the evidence showed a bed he hadn’t made and a man who couldn’t meet my eyes while he took off my boots.

I nudged his chin up until he met my gaze. “I’m not driving to Denver.”

“I know.”

“Not to stay, anyway.”

He smiled, rose to his knees, and kissed me. My sweater went over my head. His jeans hit the floor. I’d had a whole sequence planned, and it fell apart the second his mouth met my shoulder.

“You’re skipping steps,” I said.

“You can file a complaint.”

I wouldn’t. I was too busy pulling him down onto the bed with me. We’d been together enough that I knew how his body would respond to mine and mine to his, but every single one of those times, I’d known how many days I had left. Now I didn’t have a number, and I didn’t want one.

“Caroline.” He braced over me, close enough that I felt every breath. “I’m not going anywhere either.”

Nobody had ever said that to me first. People said goodbye to me. I’d built a whole career around being the one who left before anybody else got the chance.

I pulled him closer. “Then come here.”

He moved slowly, and I didn’t try to rush. I usually wanted to steer. This time I let him set the pace and held on, my hands spread across his back while the sun warmed my skin and the quilt bunched under my hips. Every time I thought I knew where we were going, he slowed down and kissed me until I forgot what I’d been trying to plan.

It built the way he did everything. Steady and patient and thorough enough to drive me wild. When I came apart, I said his name, and he kissed me through it like he’d been waiting all weekend to hear it. He followed a minute later with his face pressed into my neck and his arms locked around me, like he’d decided I wasn’t allowed to leave the bed either.

I wasn’t planning to.

Much later, our limbs tangled together as sunlight moved across the bedroom floor. I’d left my phone somewhere in the kitchen. My suitcase was still in the SUV. None of it needed my attention yet.

Beau ran his hand down my back. “Can you stay tonight?”

I lifted my head. “I just renegotiated an entire contract so I could build a life in Montana, and you’re asking about tonight?”

“I’m starting small.”

I smiled and settled back against his chest. “Yeah. I’m staying.”