She was kissing him.
Tyler felt a split second of panic as her lips parted. Her tongue touched, swirled, and teased. She didn’t hold anything back.
Which meant he should have taken the lead and put on the brakes right then and there. This wasn’t about sex. It was about like. About spending time together and figuring out if she felt even half of what he did. Just for his own peace of mind. To fill up those long, lonely nights when he was far, far away from Rebel.
At the same time, there was something desperate about her touch. As if this kiss meant more than all the others they’d shared over the past few days.
The thought intoxicated him even more than the sweet taste of her lips. He planted one hand on the back of her head, tilted her face to the side, and kissed her thoroughly. Deeply.
He nibbled her bottom lip and explored the interior of her mouth. When he couldn’t breathe, he slid his lips across her cheek and along her jaw. His mouth slipped to the side of her neck and he pushed her hair down her back. She smelled of apples and sugar, and warm, feminine skin. He breathed her in for a long, heart-pounding moment and closed his eyes. He thought of all the things he wanted to do with her.
Everything.
He ached to see her soapy and wet in his shower. Naked and panting against his sheets. Smiling and laughing across the breakfast table—
He killed the last thought and concentrated on the lust that rolled through him like a ball of fire that dive-bombed straight to his dick. He edged her sideways until they were clear of the apples and pie fixings, then bent her back over the countertop and captured her lips again.
He fed off her mouth for several long moments, tasting and savoring, before nibbling his way down the sexy column of her throat.
His cock throbbed, and it was all he could do to keep from shoving his zipper down, parting her legs, and plunging fast and deep inside her hot, tight body.
Now. Right. Friggin’. Now.
He wouldn’t.
He didn’t want just sex anymore. He wanted to know that she felt something more.
Love?
Hell, he was the last person to even know what love was. He’d never been in love. He’d spent his younger years barely surviving, and his teenage years trying to do more than just survive. He’d never had time for anything more than sex.
He didn’t have time for it now.
But he wanted it.
Not that he wanted her to fall madly in love with him or anything bat-shit crazy like that. He just wanted to know that she at least felt something for him. Something that might make her as reluctant to see him leave as he was to go.
Not mind-changing or anything that extreme. Just a little regretful. And that meant slowing down enough to give her time to feel. To think. To long for him the way he longed for her.
He stiffened against the desire slamming through him and concentrated on the small cry that bubbled from her lips when he licked her pulse beat. He liked pleasing her, so he held tight to his control and paced himself. With each touch of his lips, she made some sort of sound. A sigh. A gasp. A cry that fed the need whirling through him and cheered him on.
When he reached the neckline of her shirt, he traced the edge where her skin met the material with his tongue. Her breathy moan was his reward and he smiled against her flushed skin. He unfastened the apron tied around her neck. The material gave and slipped to her waist until she was wearing nothing but the signature hot-pink T-shirt of Sweet Somethings. He trailed his fingertips over the soft fabric, tracing the goodies underneath—her rib cage, the undersides of her luscious breasts, the indentation of her belly button.
He slid his hands down, tugging the ends of the cotton free of her shorts and plunging underneath until he felt bare skin. Heat zapped him like a live wire and his pulse jumped. He touched the lace of her bra, tracing a path to the luscious plumpness of her breasts at the edge. A quick tug on the front clasp and her breasts spilled free.
Grabbing her sweet round ass, he lifted her, hoisting her onto the countertop. He stepped between her legs, pulled the T-shirt up and over her head, and caught one ripe nipple between his lips. He suckled her and she arched against him.
He pushed her back down, still sucking as he tugged at the button of her shorts and shoved the zipper down. She wiggled and the shorts sagged on her thighs.
He slid a finger inside the edge of her panties, straight into her slick folds, and her body bucked. He plunged another finger inside, wiggling and teasing and testing.
He wanted to feel every steamy secret. Even more, he wanted to taste her.
Tearing his mouth from hers, he worked his way down, kissing and teasing and tasting until he reached her hot-pink panties. He glanced up and his gaze caught hers for a brief moment as he pushed the panties down her hips, her legs, until the shorts hit the ground and the scrap of lace soon followed. Then he dipped his head.
He licked the very tip of her clit with his tongue and she shuddered. She opened wider, an invitation that he couldn’t resist. He trailed his tongue over her clit and down the slit before dipping it inside.
She was warm and sweet and more addictive than her prize-winning apple pie. Hunger gripped him hard and fast. He sucked on the swollen nub and plunged his tongue inside until her entire body went stiff.
“Come on, baby,” he murmured. He gripped her thighs and held her tight. “Let go.”
A few more licks and she did just that.
A cry rumbled from her throat and tremors racked her body. He drank her in, savoring her essence until her body stilled.
He pulled away and stared down at her.
“Please. Just do it. Do it now,” she murmured, her eyes closed, her face flushed. Her chest rose and fell to a frantic rhythm that made his groin throb and his entire body ache. She was so beautiful. So damn sweet. He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted any woman.
But even more, he wanted her to want him more than she’d ever wanted any other man.
He needed the truth of that to warm him on all the cold nights to come.
“I think the apples are turning brown.”
Her eyelids fluttered open. “What?”
He took a huge drink of oxygen and forced his hands away from her. “The peeled apples. We need to do something with them before they turn brown.”
“Apples? You’re worried about the pie?” Her gaze swiveled toward the forgotten fruit.
“Oh, no.” Her cheeks fired a brighter red as she reached for her T-shirt.
She dressed at the speed of light and then disappeared into the storage room as if she couldn’t get away from him fast enough.
As if she’d just realized she’d made a big, big mistake.
“We really should let the dough chill for at least an hour and I need to pick up a few things at the Piggly Wiggly before they close,” she said when she walked out, her expression unreadable, her purse in hand. “We should do this another time.”
“Sure thing.”
“I know I said we could do it now, but I really am running low on sugar and—what did you just say?”
He winked. “If you have to leave, you have to leave.”
“That’s okay with you?”
“I’d rather you stay and finish the pie, but duty calls.” He arched an eyebrow. “You can wait, can’t you?”
“Um, yeah. Of course.” She turned and snatched up her keys perched on a nearby hook. “I’ll just head out then.”
“Later, sugar,” he called after her.
“Don’t bet on it,” she muttered under her breath, and a rush of satisfaction went through Tyler. He’d won this battle. He’d given her just enough to make her think.
Now if he could only win the war.
* * *
They weren’t having sex.
It had been several days since the pie disaster on Saturday morning and other than a few hot kisses and some heavy petting, she wasn’t any closer to working Tyler McCall out of her system. She needed the real deal for that. At least that’s what she was telling herself.
Meanwhile, the clock was ticking.
All the more reason she needed him inside of her and her wrapped around him and an orgasm. A major, mind-blowing orgasm during the actual deed. The preliminary stuff … It was working her up too much and she needed to work off some steam. To shed her anxiety.
Her worry.
Because Tyler would put his brother on a bus on Monday—in exactly four days—and then his very reason for being in Rebel would be gone, headed to College Station and the rest of his life.
And she would go back to being alone.
Lonely.
Real sex.
That was all she needed to relieve the tension in her shoulders and ease the anxiety knotting her stomach. She held tight to the truth as he ended the heavy-duty petting session that had started the minute she’d arrived on his doorstep late Thursday night, after a long day at the bakery and a phone call from Sheriff DeMassi telling her he wanted yet another look at her grandpa’s room.
All the more reason she should have headed home to get a good night’s sleep before he came calling first thing in the morning to pick through all the boxes yet again.
But Brandy wanted more. She wanted to see Tyler, to touch him, to prove to herself that he was still real and here and that he did, indeed, want her as much as she wanted him, and so she’d headed to the rodeo arena.
And straight into his bed.
For about fifteen minutes, she felt convinced her dry spell was about to end. But then he pulled away, kissed her one last time with enough passion to make her hormones literally cry, and rolled over to go to sleep.
Sleep.
Seriously?
She tossed and turned and did everything she could to keep him up, but then he slid an arm around her and pulled her back flush against his body. Her hopes soared one last time, but then she heard the deep snore directly in her ear.
“You can’t be serious?” she muttered, barely resisting the urge to pinch the hell out of his arm.
But the solid muscle wrapped around her did feel good and she found herself relaxing a little. Enough to stop contemplating revenge plots and actually close her eyes for a few moments.
It had been a long day and this was sort of nice, too.
Not that she was falling sleep.
She had an early morning with the sheriff, then she had an elaborate wedding cake to finish up at the bakery, delivery at noon. She didn’t need this tonight.
No relaxing. No sleep. No.