Page 90 of Saving the Rain
It happens as quick as a bolt of lightning. Kayce tenses up, turning rigid beneath me.
I keep on slowly kissing him, easing up on the intensity, but tighten my hold on his neck and the front of his shirt. As I leisurelymake out with him now, in between strokes of my tongue, I give him the reassurance he needs. “Don’t worry.” A soft kiss drags his bottom lip so I can suck on it briefly. “They won’t be able to see you.” Another kiss covers his jaw. “All they would have seen is the back of me.”
“Ok.” He lets out a shaky exhale.
A satisfied hum rumbles out of me. “Did you drive?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll drop you back here to pick your truck up tomorrow.”
“Wh—” I shut him up. Cutting off his words with a deep kiss, one that I could so very easily get lost in. The kind of pleasurable hit ofhimthat reaches straight down to my toes. Once I’ve temporarily satisfied my craving, I pull back and swipe my thumb over his wet bottom lip, giving him a stern look through the darkness.
“You’re coming home with me tonight.”
Chapter 36
“Come here.”
Raine’s voice is a low-pitched command filling the front seat of his truck as we pull out of the parking lot.
My heart is in my mouth, and I’m almost certain my brain has melted completely.
I glance at the length of bench seat between us, illuminated in a slow-moving strobe effect of streetlights as we drive by. My eyes tick up to him, filling the space at the opposite end, with one hand leisurely caressing the steering wheel. He has an arm hooked up high on the back of the seat and looks every inch a rodeo king.
Raine wants me to nestle there at his side.
For some reason, that sends shivers flying everywhere.
His eyes remain on the road, but he adjusts his weight and clicks his tongue. “There ain’t a question mark on the end of that. Come. Here.”
The truck’s engine purrs into the night as we drive away from town, headed toward the ranch, and it feels like my chest is vibrating at the same speed, caught someplace between being so lost in him and not being used to this sort of treatment. I huff out a little protest, half-heartedly grumbling as I inch my way over to join him.
“I’m not a girl.” My complaint is wafer-thin. I like it far too muchfor my sanity as soon as his warmth and big, strong arm becomes a safe place to curl into.
“Oh, that’s right. You’re a cowboy who absolutely, definitely, under no circumstances would ever blush... because that’s notmanly.”
I pinch the side of his stomach as he treats me to the faintest hint of his dry sense of humor.
“Shut up.” Wriggling around a little to get more comfortable, I hook one foot up on the seat and let my body sink into his. Reclining against him, while he drives, and music plays through the stereo. It feels like we’ve done this before. And, of course, there have been countless times we’ve been stuck in a vehicle together; if anything, I have too many memories to count of us driving somewhere while trapped in silence.
Yet, this particular moment feels . . . comforting.
I mean, my blood is still on fire after that kiss outside the bar. I’m a riot of need and hunger running rampant through my veins. But I also wouldn’t trade this, being tucked in this spot right here, in the crook of his arm, for the world.
There’s an allure hidden in this scenario, the front seat of his truck, of enjoying being with Raine in the quietness. As much as the times when he steals my breath and torments my body in the most delicious and enthralling of ways.
When we pull up at his place, that hammering of my pulse, a flurry of strikes against an anvil, has intensified to the point I feel giddy. Have I ever felt this way? This incredible? With this kind of liquid gold pouring straight into my veins?
I can’t believe this is happening, and it’s as if Raine can read my mind. When we move to get out of the truck, he’s right there waiting for me. Not only does he move like lightning, but without any preamble or explanation, he reaches for my hand.
I’m securely anchored by him—our fingers threaded together—and I shiver at the warmth of his touch intertwined with my own. My eyes fix on that spot as we walk up the steps, and with every passing second we climb higher; my heart races into the starry night sky above us. Captivated by the sight of the place where my hand joins with his... the veins, his ink, those corded muscles of his forearm revealedwhere his shirt has pushed back. It’s a possessive kind of hold on me, one that leaves an internal battle going on to avoid a bashful little noise escaping.
That calloused, working man’s hold wraps me tight as he unlocks the door and pushes inside, dragging me behind him. It’s only once he turns on a soft light that our focus flicks in a series of rapid-fire bounces between each other’s eyes, lips, cheeks... we simultaneously digest the other’s appearance, and it’s impossible not to burst out laughing.
Red and charcoal is smeared everywhere, coating his mouth and cheeks. There’s no doubt I’d find the same if I looked in a mirror.
We’re a pair of messes.