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She wanted those fingers everywhere, because it would blot out all this other stuff. She knew it would. She didn’t want other stuff, old hurts and fears, ugly reminders. She just wanted him, and that feeling he offered when he touched her. The flutter in her chest, the rapid beating of her heart, the low, tugging ache in the pit of her stomach.

“If you want to change your mind about going out with me—”

“No.” The word was out of her before she even had time to think about it, but it was true. “No,” she repeated. “It’s just complicated.”

“How? Explain it to me.”

She couldn’t. She just . . . couldn’t. So, she changed the subject to something she could. “Micah’s going on an overnight camping trip on Thursday.”

* * *

Shane didn’t move. Instead, he kept himself still, his thumb resting on her jaw, his fingers barely touching her neck. He wanted to smooth his fingertips everywhere. Slowly, to learn every last soft spot and curve. Every dip and swell.

Still he kept himself motionless. Until he was sure he could speak without sounding strangled. “No curfew, then?” he said carefully.

“None.”

He nodded, once, then slowly drew the tip of his thumb down the line of her chin. “Thursday, huh?”

Her mouth curved, some of that haunted uncertainty going out of her dark blue eyes. Her dimple appeared, and he touched it with his index finger.

“So, I’m all yours,” she said, her smile deepening.

His whole body tightened at that, head to toe, groin most especially. He was a careful man, always had been. It was somehow in his makeup and reinforced by everything that had happened in his life. He didn’t take sex lightly, no matter how often his brothers told him he should.

He took it even less lightly with Cora, who felt like some kind of miracle. The kind he didn’t want to break.

“Are you going to kiss me, or do I have to be the initiator again?” She grinned up at him.

“Hey, I’m trying to be gentlemanly, like my mama always taught me to be,” he faux-drawled.

She laughed, leaning close. “Be a little less gentlemanly,” she returned, her lips close to his.

“I’ll work on it,” he managed, before taking her mouth with his. He didn’t let himself go completely, though he was tempted, both in general and by her words. But there was a time and place, and his mother’s porch with any number of passersby wasn’t it.

Her mouth was soft and sweet, with a sharp hint of cleverness, as if she knew everything she did to him no matter how hard he tried to keep it reined in. She leaned into him, her hands cupping his face, her fingers brushing against the short bristles of his hair. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tight and close, so he could feel her breasts pressed up to his chest, so she could likely feel what she was doing to him.

She sighed against his mouth, and distantly he knew it throbbed where he’d been elbowed, but the pain was drowned out by the feel ofher.

“I like you an awful lot, Cora,” he murmured against her mouth.

Blue eyes stared up at him, wide and serious, even as that slight curve to her now wet lips stayed. “I like you too, Shane,” she said, and it wasn’t any big admission. Of course they liked each other.

But it felt big, mixed with that kiss, with his heart beating hard against his chest, against hers.

It was only when that beat slowed that he heard someone approach. He glanced at the yard to see Micah standing there a few feet away from the stairs.

“Boone said he can’t find the four-wheeler keys,” Micah said flatly.

Cora jerked, seeming to only just realize Micah was there. She leaned away, plastered a fake smile on her face, and looked at her son.

“You’re not getting on it, are you?” Cora asked, her voice sounding a little rough even to Shane.

He shouldn’t be pleased by that.

“No,” Micah returned, still that odd flatness to his voice and expression.

Shane pulled the keys out of his pocket and tossed them to Micah, watching the kid’s expression carefully. But Micah had certainly learned how to put his displays of emotion on lockdown if he wanted to.