Page 30 of The Rogue (Four Corners Ranch #11)

The makeshift band, which was made up of different rotating ranch hands, began to play music out by the bonfire, jingle bells

adding a festive flare to the sound.

Couples began to make their way to the dance space in front of the fire, spinning and twirling and laughing.

She watched, wistful.

She and Asher had never gone dancing. It wasn’t something he was into. That was something she had enjoyed when she was at

Smokey’s. The dancing. At least until it had erupted into a fight.

“Come on,” Justice said, his tone long-suffering.

“Come on what?”

“Dance with me,” he said. “It’s clear that you want to.”

“Really?”

“Rue,” he said. “I’m your oldest friend. Who else are you going to dance with?” She looked at him, his outstretched hand,

his blue eyes sparkling.

And what she couldn’t figure out was if this was an offer from an old friend, or an invitation to the kind of temptation she

was trying desperately to pretend wasn’t there.

She took in a sharp breath, and took his hand, because at this point hesitating would only make it weirder.

They touched casually. This wasn’t extraordinary. Except it sure felt that way. The fire was warm, and everyone around it

was laughing. Spinning and dancing. There were children out there. It wasn’t the kind of sexually charged dancing that happened

at Smokey’s Tavern. Groups of women danced together, and kids spun in circles alone. A lot of the dancing couples weren’t

couples at all, and there was no reason for her to feel scalded. Except that she did. Except that when Justice spun her around

and then brought her back to him, his arm strong around her waist, she couldn’t keep her feelings neutral.

First I’d touch you...

There had been so much resistance, so much panic inside of her since these moments between them had first started. And for

some reason, right there by the fire, she let go. As he spun her away again, it was like she stopped plugging the hole in

the dam. She just let it all wash through her. Justice King was a man. And she was a woman. It was like letting out a breath

she had been holding.

What would it be like to kiss him? What would it be like to feel those strong hands over every inch of her body?

He was her friend. But he was a man. He was her friend, and they had so much shared history. But also so many things she didn’t

know. Like how he kissed. How he looked naked.

How his hands would feel on her bare skin. What it would be like to be beneath that warm, muscular weight. So she let herself

think about that. All of it, and when she spun back into his arms, she couldn’t breathe.

When her eyes met his a spark flared there. Like he knew. Like he heard her thoughts. The music slowed, and some of the people

on the dance floor cleared out. But Justice brought her close, his hand low on her back. She closed her eyes for a moment,

and he brought her a bit closer, her breasts brushing his chest.

It was like everything made sense. For the first time. Maybe the only time. The reason things felt weird and tense was that

she was denying the truth of it.

The box had already been opened. And the nail had already been hammered.

Somewhere. She wasn’t rightly sure quite when.

Maybe when she had seen him in his suit.

Or when she had been in her wedding dress, and they’d linked arms, and she’d seen the two of them standing there in the mirror.

This acknowledgment that there was something else between them.

She’d suppressed it and suppressed it. Had pushed it down, down, down. And it was only now, with him holding her, like he

wasn’t trying to pretend, that things felt good.

“Justice,” she whispered, his name barely audible with all the noise surrounding them.

He shook his head, just a fraction. She didn’t know why. Didn’t quite know what he was saying no to. But the song ended and

he released her. But he didn’t rush her away like she had thought he might. Instead he stayed and talked to everybody. Everybody.

He never did that. He stayed and helped put everything away, and so did she. They stayed until everyone else was gone. All

the chairs in the barn put away.

It was completely silent. He was on one side of the barn, and she was on the other. Then he started to walk toward her, every

step purposeful.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“For what?”

“I’m sorry that I said it wouldn’t mean anything to you. It was the wrong thing to say. It’s us. Of course it would mean something.

That’s the problem, isn’t it? What I said was dumb. And it devalued us. Our friendship.”

“It’s the kind of wild thing people say when they want to make excuses. So they can give themselves permission to do something they know is wrong,” he said. His eyes were hot on hers.

“Yeah,” she said, nodding. “That’s exactly right.” He kept on walking toward her, each step punctuated by a breath. By her

heartbeat. What were they doing? She didn’t know the answer, but there was no question they were both doing it. They had stayed

this late. They had danced. They were... They weren’t pretending that it wasn’t happening.

Then, he did something he’d never done before. He turned to her and reached out, cupped her cheek, his hands rough on her

skin. He smoothed his thumb over her lips, down to her chin and up her jawline.

She was utterly captivated.

This was how he did it.

How he got women to take their clothes off with reckless abandon and give themselves to him for a night. Who could blame them?

She’d known this man forever and it still made her want to give him everything. Anything. Whatever he asked for.

His movements were slow and deliberate, unmistakable.

This was not friendship. This was a seduction.

She wanted to say something. Anything. Maybe his name. But she didn’t have words. She didn’t have anything but feelings. Far

too big to be contained. Too big to be turned into language. She knew a moment of terror, her stomach clenching fiercely.

This was the last moment to turn away.

You’re lying to yourself if you think this is the turning point.

That voice, that insistent, overly honest voice, was right. She didn’t know where the turning point had been, but it wasn’t

here. Not kissing him now wasn’t going to set them back to where they’d been before. It was just going to draw out what now

felt inevitable. What felt essential. So she didn’t move away.

She didn’t know what she expected. A claiming, maybe. Or something questioning. Seeking.

She didn’t get either one.

Instead, with certainty, with confidence, he closed the distance between them, his mouth soft against hers.

If he hadn’t wrapped his arm around her waist then, she would’ve collapsed. Because her knees gave out. Entirely. And that

was when the kiss became firm. That was when it became an exploration. He parted her lips beneath his and slipped his tongue

inside, the friction of it sliding against her own so delicious she could hardly stand it.

It was all so deliberate, all so controlled, and then suddenly, it got away from them both. Suddenly, she wrapped her arms

around his neck, and both of his arms went around her waist as the kiss became all-consuming. As it spread between them like

a wildfire. At no point was she unaware of whose mouth she was devouring. At no point was she unaware whose hard body she

was being held up against.

Justice .

Justice King was giving her the best kiss of her life.

It all made sense.

Because he was the best of everything. So why wouldn’t he be the best of this too?

Someone was saying yes. Over and over again, and it took her a moment to realize it was her, whenever she could come up for

air. Whenever their mouths weren’t fused. They were breathing hard, like they had just run a race.

Like they were on the verge of collapse.

Her heart was beating so hard she was dizzy with it, the instant, throbbing need between her legs like the works of fiction,

and not of any sort of arousal she’d experienced in reality.

She clung to his shoulders, and she felt herself being propelled backward, and then suddenly, stopped.

“Dammit,” he said, moving away from her, the exhalation that happened in the moment leaving her weak, barely able to stand.

“Can we just not...?” Her eyes filled with tears. She just didn’t want him to pull away and act like it hadn’t happened.

“We need to talk,” he said. “I didn’t mean... I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

“Well, what did you mean to happen?”

“I meant to kiss you. I just didn’t mean for it to get that out of control. Five more minutes and... I’d have had you against

the wall.”

The admission was raw, made her throat go dry. Made her body liquid.

“And that would’ve been bad?”

“Yes,” he said. “For the same reason you just said. Between us it’s never going to be nothing.”

“I know.”

“Let’s... let’s have a conversation about it.”

That was how she found herself back in the truck, driving toward his house.

Deeply uncertain as to whether or not a conversation was what she wanted. But one thing was certain. They wouldn’t be able

to go back.