Page 25 of Buck Wild Orc Cowboy (Brides of the Lonesome Creek Orcs #3)

Holly

A fter Gracie left, I got back to work.

Sel and I moved together well, one taking the oven while another prepped and switching off here and there as needed.

We soon had everything ready for the next day, and the bread was rising to bake in the morning.

I went out front to turn the sign on the door to Closed, returning to the kitchen to help clean up, my least favorite task.

But doing it together made it go faster.

I’d placed the rags into the bin to be washed and turned when Sel scrolled into his phone and turned on some music, placing his phone on the counter.

I frowned. “The Blue Danube?” I only knew the tune because my first foster mom had loved classical music in addition to classic movies.

Sel strode over to me, his face and body stiff. He held out his hand. “Could I have this dance, little lady?”

Focused on his hand, I lifted my eyebrows. “Little lady?”

He paused, his hand sagging. “Is that incorrect?”

“No, it’s fine.” It was so easy to smile. This guy might be big and burly and good with a sword, but he was also sweetly endearing. “I like it. But dance?”

“I don’t know how to waltz, but how hard can it be?”

My laugh snorted out. “Pretty hard if you don’t know how. Fortunately, I can waltz. My foster mom taught me. So I’ll lead.”

“Lead where?”

“That means I’ll…never mind.” I glanced down at my soiled apron. My clothing underneath wasn’t in much better shape and would need a good wash. I was enjoying wearing new things, though, and feeling like I almost sometimes looked pretty. “I’m not really dressed for this.”

His brow narrowed. “How should you be dressed?”

My smile must seem whimsical. I probably looked like I was halfway to a fairytale, and worse, it felt good. I loved the image of the two of us dressed up and dancing somewhere that didn’t smell like baked bread and cleaning solution.

Despite my romantic heart being beaten down by my ex, I could still dream. “If we’re being picky, I guess I should be wearing a ballgown. You, a suit.”

“Suit of what?”

“Black. White shirt. No tie needed. You could even leave the top buttons undone.” As if he’d wrenched them apart because he wanted his skin to touch mine.

And I had no idea where all these wild thoughts were coming from.

Actually, I knew. I wanted to want again even if that meant cracking open the part of me I’d sealed shut when everything fell apart. I liked Sel a lot, and he’d sparked the dreams I’d had when I was young and thought romance and love could be pure and not hurtful.

“I…” He shook his head and gave me a rueful smile. “If you don’t want to dance, you don’t have to.”

I stepped forward, into his arms, looking up into his gorgeous dark eyes. “I’m not sure how I’ll lead if I can’t hold onto your shoulder and hand.”

He spanned his hands around my waist and lifted me up. “Like this?”

My low laugh rang out. “This will work except my feet aren’t on the floor.”

“I could bend forward.”

“We’ll try that until you get the hang of it and then you can lift me up and you’ll lead.”

His lips curled up on one side as he lowered me gently to the floor again. “That sounds fair.”

He bent forward, reminding me again of how much bigger he was than me. I placed a hand on his shoulder and linked our fingers of his other hand. “We need to hold hands.”

He stared at our clasped hands a moment before nodding. His arm around my waist tightened.

I squeezed his hand gently, guiding him to straighten up a little so I wasn’t talking into his chest. “It’s simple, really. Step forward with your left foot, back with your right, then to the left. It's like a box.”

Sel's brow tightened as if I’d recited a complex battle strategy. “A box?”

“Yes, a box. Follow me. Left, back, left.” I moved slowly, exaggerating each step, trying not to laugh at the way he stared at our feet like they were foreign objects.

He mimicked me, a half-second late and far too heavy on his steps, but he was trying so hard it squeezed my heart.

“Good,” I said brightly, wanting to encourage him. “Now we just keep repeating it.”

“That’s it?” He blinked down at me slowly. “We make a box over and over while the music plays?”

“Well, it’s supposed to be a bit smoother than jerky box steps, but that doesn’t come until it feels more natural. Practice that a bit and then we can let go.”

“Let what go?”

“It means we can relax and let the music take us wherever we please.”

“Then why not say that?”

My grin stretched my face. “I did.”

He blinked again. “I see.”

It was all I could do not to laugh.

He grunted, which I took as my cue to get to it.

We started shuffling in a lopsided circle around the kitchen island, the air smelling of yeast and warm sugar. Our shoes scuffed on the tile floor, and my apron fluttered as he turned us a little too fast, and I stumbled into his chest.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, pulling me closer to keep me from falling.

“You're doing great.” My voice came out breathless, partly from the humor bubbling up inside me, partly from being pressed against all his solid warmth.

Staring down, he concentrated fiercely as we made another awkward revolution. I caught our reflection in the darkened window, me small and flushed, him hunched like an overgrown bear trying to be careful with a sparrow.

And somehow, it was perfect.

“You’re very light,” he murmured, glancing down at me.

I grinned up at him. “You're very strong.”

His answering smile was so proud, so delighted, that a flutter broke out low in my belly.

Sel let out a happy sound, almost a chuckle, and swept me up off my feet. I gasped, my arms automatically wrapping around his thick shoulders as he straightened to his full towering height.

“Now I lead,” he declared, his voice rich with mischief and excitement.

Laughing, I clung to him as he spun us around the kitchen, careful and exuberant all at once. Flour drifted up from the counter as he twirled, the world tilting around me in dizzy, giddy circles.

“Sel,” I cried between giggles. “You're supposed to step, not spin.”

“This is better,” he said firmly, as if he'd made an executive decision. “You like it.”

I did. Oh, how I did.

My laughter echoed off the walls, mingling with his low rumbles of amusement. In his arms, high above the floor, I felt lighter than I had in years. I was weightless, safe, and cherished.

He slowed after a few more turns, setting me carefully down, though he didn’t let go. His hands stayed on my waist, and our foreheads almost touched as he bent close again, breathing a little harder from the exertion.

“You’re a good dancer,” he said solemnly.

“And you're good at making a woman feel special.” The words slipped out before I could think better of them.

His smile widened, and he nudged his face closer.

My breath caught. I could feel the heat radiating off him, the faint scent of flour and something sweet we’d baked clinging to his skin. I tightened my hands on his broad shoulders and tipped my chin up, drawn to him like gravity itself had shifted around us.

For one long, breathless moment, we hovered there, the world narrowing to the smidge of space between us, to the thudding of my pulse in my ears.

His lips brushed mine, tentative at first, and I sensed he was afraid of hurting me. It was barely more than a ghost of a touch, one that gave me plenty of room to pull away. His kiss felt unsure and so achingly sweet that it sent a tremor through me.

I pressed closer, tilting my head and deepening the kiss, showing him I wanted this. His hand at my waist flexed, and a growl of need vibrating in his chest. That sound, honest and completely Sel, lit a fire low deep inside me.

He deepened the kiss, and it was no longer tentative.

Now he kissed me like he meant it, like he’d wanted to do it for a long time and couldn’t hold back any longer.

I loved how firm and hungry his mouth was against mine.

He tasted of sweetness and heat, and when his tongue flicked my bottom lip, I opened for him with a moan.

His rough sound of approval echoed around us, and he tightened his hold, pulling me fully against his body. So much hard muscle and barely restrained strength, yet he held me as if I was someone to be treasured.

I slid my fingers up the sides of his neck, tangling them in his dark hair, and when I tugged him closer, he kissed me until I was dizzy.

There was no awkwardness now. No hesitation. Just the two of us, wrapped around each other in the dim, flour-dusted kitchen, as if nothing else in the world mattered.

When he finally pulled back, it was only by an inch. As he stared down at me, his breath fanned my lips, and his dark eyes searched mine with a fierceness that stole the rest of my air.

“I should have asked first,” he rasped, his voice roughened to something dangerous and beautiful.

I smiled, brushing my fingertips across his face. “I don’t mind. I wanted to kiss you too.”

His eyes widened. “You did?”

“I did.”

Overwhelmed by how amazing this felt, I clung, pressing myself against him. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt need like this, and maybe I never had. Everything felt new and wonderful with Sel. This was what I’d been seeking all those years ago when I gave in to someone else.

Lifting me up, he settled my butt on the counter, before parting my thighs and stepping between them. He kissed me again in almost a fever, his hands roaming my shoulders and gliding down my waist. Sliding between my thighs to rub me through my clothing.

I gasped into his mouth, my hips instinctively tilting to seek more of his touch. The ache between my legs grew sharper, hotter, and when he pulled back enough to look down at me, his eyes were so dark and full of hunger that it sent another rush of heat through me.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he said, his fingers brushing the waistband of my pants.

“Don't stop.” My voice trembled, betraying how much I ached for more.