leaned forward again. The air between them seemed to thin away to nothingness. She forgot how to breathe. She forgot how to think.
“I’m only going to say this once more, Lacy. I’m not most guys. I’m not sitting here with you because I think it’s the best way to get you naked. I’m sitting here—with you—because we’re friends.”
Flashes of that dream came back to her. Naked. With Ian.
His gaze dropped down to her lips. He took a deep breath, his eyelids drifting to half-mast, as if he were smelling her and not the overpowering scent of fried onions. “Besides,” he added in the exact same voice she’d heard in her dream, pure sex in the air, “you want me, you know where to find me.”
“Wait—what?”
“You know what I mean,” he said, leaning back. The waitress brought her salad and the chips, but Lacy couldn’t even acknowledge food right now.
Had this man promised that they were friends, and then immediately offered—well, something? Something that he probably didn’t offer his other friends?
Yes. Yes, he had. The look he was giving her was exactly the stuff that dreams were made of, and for a moment, she considered the possibility that, once again, she’d fallen asleep in the cab of the truck and that at any second, all of her clothes were going to fly off and Ian would be reclined on a bed, promising her that she wouldn’t be able to think straight by the time he was done with her.
“I’m not the kind of man who boxes a woman into a corner—or pins her against a trailer—without her permission. That’s not how I operate. Me trying to be a decent human doesn’t mean you owe me a damn thing. Yeah, I’m attracted to you. There’s something about you...”
His voice trailed off as his gaze drifted over her face, her chest. He took another deep breath and exhaled. Lacy knew her jaw was on the ground, but she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Had he just— Did he want her?
“If you’re not looking for a good time, then no harm, no foul,” he went on. “You’ve got a lot to deal with right now and I respect that. But if you want to have a little fun, you know where to find me. No strings.”
“I can’t—I can’t be hurt. I can’t take any more pain.” The admission was out before she could do anything about it.
He leaned forward and cupped her face in his palm. His touch was a kind of electric that she wasn’t sure she’d ever felt before. Not from another man. Not even from her handshake with Ian a few days ago.
His thumb stroked over her cheek and she knew she should lean away. She should break the contact and put an end to this madness that he’d started. That she’d started.
“I won’t hurt you, Lacy Evans. And I’ll do what it takes to make sure no one else hurts you, either.”
Good lord, he was serious. He barely knew her and he was touching her and promising to—to what? To protect her? To be her friend? With benefits? But only if she wanted to? Did any of that even make sense?
Nothing made sense. It made even less sense when the look in his eyes changed—she felt it where his skin touched hers.
Once, she’d been caught out in a summer storm while she’d been swimming in the creek. The skies had opened up and she’d barely gotten out of the water before lightning started striking. She’d grabbed her horse, Jacks, and dragged him out of the cover of the trees into the open grass. Moments after they’d made it to safety, lightning had struck one of the trees. The air around them had taken on a charged feel, making her hair stand on end. It was as close to being struck by lightning as she’d ever been.
But here? With Ian touching her, looking at her with the kind of intensity that made talking, thinking, nearly impossible? All she could do was feel the way he cupped her face, his massive hand tenderly holding her, his thumb stroking over her skin as if she was a jewel of the highest value.
And then his hand dropped away from her, breaking the spell. He sat back and said, “No strings, either way. It’d be fun. Nothing more.”
She wasn’t so naive that she didn’t get his meaning. He’d sleep with her if she wanted him to—but any relationship they might have would be limited to friendship.
So she might have had an erotic dream about Ian Tall Chief. So he could reduce her to a quivering, wordless mass with a look and a simple touch. So he might be the most gorgeous man to ever look at her. It didn’t matter.
“Honey, I know you can do better than this.”
Mom’s voice floated up through Lacy’s memories. Her parents had raised her better than to tumble into a relationship that was no strings—and no promises.
She could do better than a not-relationship with Ian Tall Chief. And she would. She would not give in to these—these urges, for lack of a better word, to rip his shirt off and pin him to a bed and let him do things to her and...
She wouldn’t let go. She couldn’t.
She could do better.
So she forced her lungs to breathe and dug deep for a voice she hoped like hell wasn’t desperate. “How is this supposed to work? Because I don’t understand how we’re supposed to be friends after you say something like that. You don’t make that kind of offer for your other friends.”
That got a laugh out of him—deep and rich and genuine. “No, can’t say that I offered that to Black Jack. I feel pretty sure he’d turn me down.” Then he looked up at her, his face open and, well, joyful. “We can be friends because I can control myself.”
“It’s not enough,” she pressed on. His eyebrows jumped as he chewed his meat. Suddenly, she had to know why. “Yes, hurrah, you have self-control. That doesn’t explain why you insist on helping me, if you’re not trying to sleep with me. You said you had your reasons, and I don’t want to hear about how you’re making up for Rattler. Spill it.”
He let that demand sit for a moment before he said, “Eat.” She glared at him, which only made him smile. Which only made her glare more. “Eat,” he said again, this time in a more pleading voice.
She picked up her fork and stabbed a leaf of lettuce. “There, happy?”
He waited until she’d actually started chewing. “I can’t believe you haven’t heard about this already,” he finally said when she was into her third bite. “It’s fairly common knowledge, at least among some of the riders.”
“I don’t hang out with the riders,” she mumbled around a mouthful of tomato. Ranch dressing made everything better, she decided.
“No, I reckon you don’t. You ever hear of June Spotted Elk?”
She paused midbite. “Of course I’ve heard of her. She’s the woman who rode No Man’s Land—the bull no man could ride. That was huge.”
Ian nodded his head in acknowledgment but didn’t immediately fill in the blanks for her. Instead, he dropped his gaze to his plate and fiddled with the leather strap on his wrist.
Wait—why did he look so sheepish? Oh, lord—had June been his girlfriend? Or his friend with benefits? And if so, why would that matter?
