Page 80 of Rancher's Return

And what the hell was there to be done about that?

Nothing but this.

Nothing but to kiss her, now that there was no danger of her mom walking in on them. Now that they weren’t kids.

Now that they were adults who ought to have more control, but maybe had less.

Because she had said it was real. And he had always known it was.

There was an angry, bitter sort of triumph inside of him that sliced through his chest like a knife.

He would never fully be able to understand the hold she had on him.

He wasn’t sure if he wanted to.

Not really.

But he wanted this.

So he kissed her. Deep and hard and long, with all the skill he had acquired in the years since his mouth had last touched hers. With all the feeling he had left behind the day she had broken his heart.

It was the first time he had ever kissed anyone with both of those things.

It was surreal.

It was a glory.

And at the same time, it was a sin. He was certain about that.

He cupped her face,—it was so soft. He couldn’t find any anger, not anymore, not when this just felt so damned good.

It felt like his due. It felt like what he had been waiting for all these years.

Confirmation that it hadn’t been a dream. The right to touch her again. The sound of her need, her pleasure, her demand for more.

It reminded him of being seventeen.

That day they had gotten caught by her mom. They hadn’t meant to start kissing. Not in her bedroom. He hadn’t meant to put his hand under her shirt. She hadn’t meant to take his off. They hadn’t meant to lie down on the bed. But they had been carried away in feelings, passion that was too big for them. Too advanced for their age.

And now, in this moment, it was right. They weren’t too young, and there was no one else here.

There was magic in it.

And there had been spare little magic in his life, so he was bound and determined to claim what there was.

So he picked her up, held her in his arms, and started to walk her toward the stairs. She looped her arms around his neck, not breaking the kiss. Almost as if she was desperate to make sure the magic kept going. He could relate to the feeling. But he wasn’t afraid of it vanishing quite so quickly.

He pushed open the door to the bedroom and looked down at the bed. There were too many pillows on it.

He had never understood what the hell all the extra pillows were for. It was a rich person thing, as far as he could tell. Most of his life he had been lucky to have one pillow. He had become a Carson, and suddenly there were pillows every fucking where. The couch, extras on the beds. It was unhinged.

“I don’t... I don’t have any protection or anything,” she said.

“This is a Carson house,” he said. “There have to be condoms somewhere.”

He believed that to be true. They weren’t the only branch of the family that used this place.

He went into the main bedroom and went into the bathroom, opening up the medicine cabinet and giving thanks he had been brought into a family who prioritized their needs. Because there was indeed a box of condoms.