Cowboy Lullaby (The Boones of Texas 6)

He grinned. It was one hell of a grin, all dimples and yummy creases.

She cleared her throat. “Why weren’t you sleeping in your bed?” she asked between bites.

“Thought you might get up,” he said, leaning back in his chair, one long leg extending out from under the table.

Sitting here just the two of them, it was hard to miss just how much space he filled. Or maybe it only felt that way. The longer those blue eyes watched her, the smaller the room became. And hotter. She was growing warmer by the minute. “You waited up for me?” she asked.

He shrugged.

“You knew I’d cook you something,” she teased, needing to ease the mounting tension between them.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay. Seems like every time we’re alone together I make you cry.” His fingers tapped the linoleum tabletop. “I’m sorry.”

She set her fork down, searching for the right words. “Momma said crying’s weak. But it turned out she said a lot of things that were wrong. I was too fragile to see it. It took hearing the truth from someone who’s never lied to me to make me realize that.” She sat forward, reaching across the table for his hand. “Don’t be sorry for today. Please.”

He nodded, the muscle in his jaw working.

“I’m the one who should be sorry,” she said. “I pushed you away when you were hurting, too.”

He stood, tugging her from her chair. “I should have dug in and stayed.”

“You wouldn’t do that, Click. You’ve always done what I wanted, what you thought would make me happy. Even then,” she finished. Her heart, just as awake as the rest of her, thumped heavily in her chest. She was done asking why he had this effect on her. Their connection was just as unwavering as it had always been. She craved him—craved the way he made her feel.

“What would make you happy now, Tandy?” The words were gruff and raw, resonating up her spine.

She stood on tiptoe, holding on to his shoulders for balance, and pressed her lips to his.

* * *

HER LIPS FELT like heaven. Gentle, slow, tentative, her kiss bowled him over. It was the last thing he’d expected. Wanted, yes, more than anything. But now? She’d cried for more than an hour, so worn out she’d passed out cold against him.

He wanted to believe that this was about them, about her needing and wanting him. “Tandy.” He placed a hand, lightly, on her chest. ?

??Are you kissing me because you want to kiss me? Or because you’re lonely and you know I won’t say no?”

“I’ve never separated one from the other,” she said, staring into his eyes. “I’m lonely because I’ve been missing you.” Her eyes searched his. “Yes, I want to kiss you. If...if you want—”

He groaned, his mouth sealing to hers with a hunger that startled him. There was no if when it came to wanting Tandy. He’d wake from dreams, remembering her scent and the silk of her curves, and damn near rip his pillow apart. She was real, in his arms, offering her lips to him. If this was what she wanted, he’d happily oblige. It had been too long since he’d tasted her.

Her fingers tangled in his hair. She arched into him, her breasts pressing against his chest, soft and full. He groaned, his hands sliding down her back—then up. He wanted to hold her to him, he wanted to touch every inch.

The tip of her tongue touched his, and he all but slid to the floor. His hands fisted in the fabric of her top as his tongue delved into the warmth of her mouth.

It was her turn to moan. Damn but he loved the sound of it. Even after all this time, he did this to her. His lips moved over hers, each kiss more frantic than the last. When one stopped and the next began, he didn’t know.

He was vaguely aware of Pearl, the squeak and rustle over the baby monitor. Some nights she woke, fussing and fretful, until he soothed her back to sleep. But if she got too worked up, he’d be pacing the floor with her for hours.

“Pearl,” he said, tearing his lips from hers.

“I’ll go,” she answered, her breath labored. “Maybe she’ll drift off with a song.”

He pressed a kiss to her nose. “All you.”

She smiled up at him, her fingers stroking his mouth before she left him standing in the middle of the kitchen.

“Shh, pretty Pearl.” Tandy’s voice came through the monitor. “Sleep sweet little one,” she murmured. She hummed softly, the raspy timbre holding him captive. He closed his eyes, listening as she sang the only lullaby Lynnie knew.

“Baby, Baby, don’t you cry