Trust Fund Fiancé (Texas Cattleman's Club: Rags to Riches 4)

Indecision flared in her eyes before her lashes lowered, hiding her emotion from him. But he caught the slight quiver of her lips before they firmed.

“Trust me,” he damn near pleaded. His desperation for her to do just that shook him. But he didn’t rescind the words.

The thick fringe of lashes lifted, and she stared at him. Weighing him. And relief flowed through Ezekiel when her lips parted because she’d obviously found him worthy.

“I plan to open a fully staffed and independent home for pregnant teen mothers here in Royal.”

Shock quaked through him, pleasure rippling in its wake. Jesus. Of all the things he’d expected her to say, a haven for unwed mothers hadn’t even been in the top ten. Admiration for her lit him up from within. Outside of his family, most of the socialites he knew served on boards or committees for charities, but very few desired to get their hands dirty.

Why this cause? Did she know someone who’d been pregnant, abandoned and homeless? The questions crowded onto his tongue, but rather than ask them, he cupped her face between his hands, stepping closer to her. “This is important to you, isn’t it?”

Reagan nodded, and her lips parted as if to offer him an explanation, but after a hesitation, she closed them again, shifting her gaze over his shoulder.

“No, sweetheart, please don’t look away from me.” When she returned her regard to him, he swept his thumb over her cheek, and for a moment, he wished it was his mouth tracing the curve, tasting that soft, beautiful skin. “Thank you.”

“For what?” she breathed.

“For trusting me with that information. I’m assuming your parents don’t know about your plans?”

She shook her head, her hair caressing the backs of his hands and wrists. “No. They...wouldn’t approve.”

“Your secret is safe with me. And, Ray?” He settled a thumb under her chin, tilting her head back so she had no choice but to meet his gaze. His heart thumped against his sternum, and he viciously cursed himself for what he had to do. “Your project is also safe with me. Which is why I’m breaking off this engagement.”

Hurt and anger flashed across her face. Her brows drew down into a frown as she settled her palms on his chest. She pushed at him, but he braced himself, refusing to be budged. Instead, he tightened his hold on her.

“Let me go, Ezekiel,” she demanded. “If you don’t want—”

“Want what, Ray?” he snarled. “Want you to have your freedom, your dreams sooner rather than four years from now? Want you to not damage your relationship with your family over me?

Want you to have everything you deserve?” Want you? He ground his teeth together, trapping that last question. “I want all of that for you. And whether you admit it or not, your father, your mother—they’re important to you. And I’m not going to let you risk that.”

Not for me.

She sighed and the soft gust of air brushed over his skin. Like a kiss.

“It’s not right. None of it,” she whispered, the fingers that were trying to push him away seconds ago curling into his shirt. “I wish...”

Her voice trailed off, and he was grateful. Because a part of him hungered to know what she wished, what she desired. Maybe it was for the best—for both of them—that they were making a clean break. Before they crossed a line that neither of them could come back from.

That they would ultimately regret.

Giving in to a need that he refused to acknowledge, he lowered his head and pressed his mouth to her forehead. He inhaled her honeysuckle-and-cream scent, capturing it like a photograph. Her breath tickled his neck, and he stood still for a long moment, enjoying the sensation on his skin.

Lifting his head, he met her gaze. His gut tightened to the point of pain. Sadness swirled in those chicory depths. But so did a touch of heat, of desire. Fuck. It wouldn’t require more than the barest of movements to take her mouth. To possess it. To find out if his dirtiest midnight fantasies about her texture, her taste came close to reality. With one tiny shift, he could satisfy his curiosity and just know...

He stepped back, dropping his arms to his sides. “You’d better go before your family starts to wonder where you are,” he said, forcing a neutrality into his voice that didn’t exist.

“Right,” she agreed softly. “Take care of yourself, Zeke.”

“You, too, Ray.”

He turned to watch her leave, and though she paused on the threshold of the front entrance after opening the door, she didn’t turn around or glance over her shoulder at him.

Only when she left and he stared at a closed door did he exhale and shut his eyes.

He should be grateful. Relieved. And he was. But damn if he could decide if he’d dodged a bullet or lost the one thing that had given him purpose these last few weeks.

Given him peace.