considerable acreage?
“I bought the building and rent the space to Wrangler’s. I’m remodeling the upper floors for...my business.” He hedged about his line of work.
But of course, she already knew what he did for a living.
“How convenient to work close to a bar you like,” she observed, not sure what else to say. Her thoughts were muddled from the kiss.
She wanted another one.
“It is,” he agreed. “But right now, I’m thinking about how much privacy we could have for another kiss, on the other side of that door.”
“Oh.” That was logic she could follow. “Yes. Just let me grab my purse.”
He scanned the bar, his gaze halting on the table where she’d left her bag, while she reached into her pocket for her phone. She texted a quick message to a friend to let her know where she was, taking basic safety precautions.
But if there was another kiss on the table, Jillian was taking it. And if that meant entering the backroom of a dive bar in a building Carson McNeill owned, that didn’t deter her in the slightest. Her whole body hummed from his touch. She felt vitally alive, and that was a gift that neither her recovery nor the group counseling sessions she’d attended afterward had given her.
“Are you sure?” He paused and frowned down at her before they reached her table.
Perhaps he’d seen her text.
“I’m positive.” She craved the adrenaline high his touch inspired. Thirsted for the physical contact that ignited sensations all over her body. Even before her chemo days, she hadn’t experienced the kind of tantalizing thrill that contact with him provided.
Darting toward the booth, she retrieved her satchel. “Okay.” She tried to restrain herself from leaping into his arms. Plastering herself to him. “I’m ready.”
She didn’t want to worry about work or filming on Cody McNeill’s ranch anymore tonight. She just wanted to follow this adventurous path Carson had proposed, and hope it led her back toward joy and health. Well-being and wholeness.
Taking her by the hand, he drew her with him across the bar, past the dance floor and through the exit marked Private. He flipped a switch and an overhead lamp threw the space into view. As he closed the door behind them, Jillian’s gaze immediately went to the vast office, which was still under construction.
The exposed brick walls and bamboo floors had been cleaned and restored. A staircase with dark slats and a thick, Craftsman-style handrail led upward, the mirror on the landing reflecting the dull light of silver pendant lamps. The beautifully detailed hammered-tin ceiling tiles looked original.
But she didn’t have a chance to compliment him on the remodeling project in progress. He stalked toward her, his intent gaze rising from her mouth to her eyes. Her pulse quickened as she remembered why they were here.
The music from the jukebox drifted in through the open door. The rest of the world was close, but not close enough to see what was happening in here. He paused near her, took off his Stetson and settled it on a wrought-iron hook beside the door. She could see his eyes better now that the brim wasn’t casting a shadow. Jillian let her satchel fall to the floor with a soft thud. Her eyes remained on Carson. The stranger she knew.
Then his hand was cupping her face, tilting her chin. Her eyelids fell, the sensations coming so fast and fierce she needed to focus simply on what she was feeling.
His kiss chased off any reservations she might have had, providing instant clarity about what she wanted. Desire shot through her; it felt like going up too fast in an elevator. Her knees almost buckled, and her whole body was seized with dizzying sensations. She reached to steady herself against him and ended up molded to the hard expanse of his muscles, from her hips to her breasts.
Her instincts took over. Winding her arms around his neck, she sought a closer connection.
For a moment, he kissed her harder. Deeper. She sucked air into her lungs in hard pants when he finally angled back, breaking the kiss to study her.
“Are you okay with this?” he asked, his thumbs stroking lazy circles on her shoulders through the thin fabric of her blouse.
She wanted more than a kiss, she knew now. Much, much more.
“Better than okay.” She laid her palm on his cheek. Willed him to understand what she needed.
Connection. Affirmation. Him.
His jaw flexed; his breathing was as labored as hers. Then he backed her into the wall and she vaguely registered the rough brick against her spine for a moment before he hooked an arm under her hips and hefted her higher. The action slid her along the rigid length of—
Oh. My.
She ran her fingers through his thick dark hair, clearing a path to his ear so she could whisper, “Don’t stop.”
* * *
Her soft plea undid him.
Up until that moment, Cody had been doing his damnedest to keep the explosive attraction in check. He’d made sure she was on board with what was happening between them. Helped her to feel safe and in control at all times. There was a bar full of people—well, a few people—just on the other side of the door.
But now?
She was like an out-of-control blaze in his arms. The chemistry was blistering. And her quiet, insistent “Don’t stop” torched the last shreds of his restraint.
Cupping her sweet curves in his hands, he brought the juncture of her thighs against his rock-hard erection, feeling the heat of her right through her long skirt. With the flip of his belt buckle, he could be inside her in no time.
“Please,” she murmured against his neck, kissing her way down his throat as she tugged at his T-shirt. “I have a clean bill of health. No partners since my last checkup.” She stopped kissing him long enough to glance up at him.
His short bark of laughter surprised him. Hell, she surprised him with the glimpses of an efficient woman beneath the passionate kisses.
“Me, too.” He set her back on her feet. “And thank you for that. I have protection somewhere. A bathroom upstairs, I think.” He’d stocked the basics, since he’d spent a few nights here overseeing the construction work when it had run late into the night.
“I have one,” she blurted, scrambling to retrieve the patchwork bag she’d dropped on the floor. “I bought it when I—well, in a fit of optimism.” She combed through the papers and electronics in her satchel. A bright pink pair of earbuds and a lipstick tube spilled out. “Here.”
She stood back up and stuffed a foil packet into his right hand, then launched herself into his arms. He wanted to move them upstairs where there was a sofa, but her fingers made quick work of his belt and the button fly, scrambling the last of his good intentions as she stroked him lightly.
“Hold on to me.” The words were a brusque command as he lifted her against him, a thigh in each hand as he helped her to wrap his legs around him. With her secured that way, he stepped close enough to the door to lock
