When Wes glanced up and around to figure out where they could have a private conversation, he found nearly everyone in the area looking at them. Fuck it. He didn’t give a shit. He pushed to his feet, grabbed Rubi’s suitcase with one hand and Rubi’s hand with the other.

“Now boarding group number three on United Airlines flight 5612 to Los Angeles,” came over the intercom. “Group three.”

“Wes…” She tugged against his hand. “I’m going to miss my flight.”

“You’re really going to miss it if we don’t talk.”

She pressed her lips together but didn’t argue as he created a path through the lines of passengers and veered toward a virtually empty seating area near another gate. He released her luggage and pulled her into his arms. The feel of her body stretched against him was so good, it hurt.

“Damn,” he breathed. “I’ve missed you.”

She pressed her face against his chest, slipped her fingers through his hair. And all he could think was heaven. This was the woman he wanted.

“There is nothing forced about this. The fight is all in denying it.” He released her, gripped her arms, and pushed her back. “Now that you know I wasn’t kicking it up with an old, dead flame, tell me why you can’t stay.”

Looking away again, Rubi dropped into a chair and slouched against the back. “I didn’t come for the right reasons.”

He waited, but when she didn’t go on, he demanded, “What does that mean?”

“It’s…complicated.” Her expression grew concrete, resolute. She seemed to slide deeper into herself, away from Wes. “I didn’t come for you. I came for me.” She met his gaze, her expression guilty. “Lexi has Jax. I’ve outgrown Stilettos. I’ve banished my father. Now my house has been invaded by real estate brokers who feel like they have more rights to it than I do. I didn’t realize it until I was already here, maybe until after I saw you at the hospital and came back to the airport…but I wanted to feel like I fit somewhere. I wanted to be with someone who wanted me.”

He sat beside her, basking in this openness. This vulnerability beneath that layer of Kevlar. “You came to the right place. No one wants you more than I do.”

“It was selfish.”

“That’s ridiculous. That’s like saying me having sex with you is selfish because I want to get laid. If it’s what we both want, then we both win. And I want you here with me.” He clasped his hands and leaned forward on his thighs, tilting his head to look into her downturned face. “But you have to want it too.”

She pulled her lip between her teeth, and tears rolled down her cheeks, then dripped on the floor before she could lift her hand to wipe them away. The sight absolutely broke him. He hadn’t even believed her capable of crying—a preconceived idea he’d only just now realized.

“I do,” she said, her voice shaky. “When I saw you with Melissa…” She sniffled. “It hurt to think of losing you.” She lifted her gaze to his. They were filled to the brim with tears and the brightest green he’d ever seen. “I don’t know how to do this, Wes. I haven’t had a relationship since high school, and even then I was no good at it. I was never good at it. You have to accept that responsibility if you want to be with me—knowing I could very well screw it all up and hurt you.”

“Now boarding group number four on United Airlines flight 5612 to Los Angeles,” came over the intercom. “Group four.”

Wes’s own eyes grew hot. He lifted a hand to her face and turned her to look at him. “The last time I told a woman I loved her for the first time was back in high school. I think we’ve both grown up a little since then. We both know you can do anything you put that wicked mind to.”

She huffed a laugh, and tears squeezed out of her eyes when they closed. Wes lifted her face to his and kissed the trails over her cheeks, sipping the wetness from her skin. Then touched his lips to hers. Now they were warm and wet and salty.

When she kissed him back, a rush of urgency filled his body in a whoosh. He opened his mouth and stroked his tongue between her lips. She responded instantly, heatedly, pushing a hand into his hair and fisting it as she met his tongue on a long moan.

“Now boarding group number five on United Airlines flight 5612 to Los Angeles,” came over the intercom. “Last boarding call for United Airlines flight 5612 to Los Angeles.”

He pulled his mouth from hers. “Stay, Rubi. Just a few days. Meet Wyatt, see how the rig works. You don’t have to stay with my family. There’s a bed-and-breakfast a few miles away, a couple of hotels in Washington, just over the river—”

“I’ll stay.” She said, a smile warming her face. Wes felt like the sun rose in his chest. “Just for a few days. I’m not sure what to do about where to stay.”

Christ, he was elated. Even his craziest stunt didn’t work him up like this. “We’ll leave it open for now. Let’s go home, get some dinner, meet my family—”

“I’ve already met a few. I’m guessing Melissa goes by Missy?”

“She used to, in high school. How’d you know that?”

Rubi pushed to her feet and grabbed the handle of her luggage. “Evidently, Birdie thinks I’m Missy.”

Wes straightened with a groan. “Sorry.”

“Doesn’t matter. But someone should tell Birdie you don’t prefer blondes so much anymore.”

He swung his arm around her shoulders and grinned down at her. “She said she gave you a batch of my favorite treat. You owe me some sugar.”

Rubi lifted that gorgeous face to his, the shadows weren’t completely gone from her eyes, but that didn’t keep love from squeezing his heart.

“Let’s just see how this goes,” she said. “Then we’ll talk about sugar.”

Twenty-Two

Wes couldn’t believe what a lucky bastard he was. He could have lost her if he’d missed her at the airport. And he was sure that by the time she’d reached LA, she would have convinced herself she was done with him. Now, she sat in the middle of the bench seat, squeezed to his side beneath his arm. Her mouth was on his neck, her hand on his thigh. Which kept inching higher.

Almost to the turn off the main highway, Wes had pulled the clip from her hair and now combed his fingers through the strands again. He could do it forever. So thick, so silky, it felt beautiful beneath his hand. Right now he was also enjoying the comfortable silence between them. They’d spent the first half hour catching up—on Wyatt and Wes’s family, on Rubi’s work, the stunt apps, Rodie, and the house. Rubi had just finished telling him about the Realtor who kept popping in on her without calling, and he was wishing he could have been there to show the man the way out. On his ass.

“Why don’t you put an offer in on your house?”

“I already tried that. Six times.” Her smooth voice purred in his ear, shooting tingles over his neck. If he got any harder, his dick was going to break his zipper.

“Can’t hurt to try again.”

“Yes, it could. I’m done with him.”

“You can still be done. Just look at it as a business transaction. One that allows you to own the house you love, free of him. You can’t win the game if you don’t play.”

When he glanced at her, she lifted her head and kissed his lips. He tried kissing her while watching the road, and the truck veered into the other lane. Wes straightened with a jerk of the wheel. “Whoa.”

Rubi laughed. “You can’t drive and kiss at the same time?”

“Obviously not.” He signaled and took the exit for the two-lane road leading to his parents’ house.

“Hmm.” She ran a finger from his temple to his jaw. Then her hand slid beneath the hem of his T-shirt and stroked his belly, her fingers pausing on the button of his jeans. And popped it. “What about with my mouth on a different part of your body?”

She worked his zipper down, and Wes was caught in a tense battle between shock and excitement. “Rubi—”

He jerked at the feel of her palm cradling his cock. With a soft hum of pleasure, she lowered her head and closed her mouth over him. A brilliant burst of light blinded him. “Ah shit, Rubi…”

She took him deeper, stroking the swollen shaft with a velvet tongue.

“Oh my God.” His hand tightened in her hair. Excitement whipped up from his groin. His balls squeezed. His gut stung with pleasure. “Rubi…”

He didn’t know what he wanted to say—other than her name. Or how impossibly good she felt. Or how badly he wanted her. But she wasn’t listening anyway. And Wes couldn’t think anymore. She suckled him deep, moaning with pleasure, dragging him out of her mouth slowly. So slowly.

She sat up and kissed his mouth again. “I want you.” She unfastened her seat belt. Her hands slipped beneath her skirt, reappearing as they dragged her panties down her legs—all while those catlike eyes stayed on him. “And I can’t wait.”

The woman was one ridiculous thrill after another. Wes divided his attention between the road and Rubi, favoring the latter enough to convince him he was going to end up in a ditch. She turned, pulled her feet beneath her, and knelt on the seat beside him. With a hand on his shoulder, she said, “You concentrate on staying on the pavement. I’ll concentrate on staying on you.”

Slowly, carefully, she stretched one long leg—high heel still in place—across his lap. He was momentarily distracted from the consequences of the act by the glorious sight of that toned thigh. Then the sweet scent of her arousal mixed with her perfume and—wham—lust hit him hard and square. His focus on the road wavered.

“Whoa, hold on—”

“Are you a stunt driver,” she asked, aligning her hips with his and leaning slightly to one side so he could see out the windshield over her shoulder, “or not?”

His head was definitely fogged. He couldn’t even answer. Was he a stunt driver? What the fuck was his goddamned name? The woman wiped his mind of everything but her—her scent, her feel, her taste. And yes, he wanted to be tasting her. But all his mind could do was spin and spin. Then she lowered herself until her soft pussy pressed along the length of his cock. And, holy mother of God, he lost his mind.

“Christ, Rubi…” He sounded like he was dying. One hand choked the steering wheel. His other fingers dug into the perfect curve of her bare hip beneath her skirt.

Come on, turnout. But there was nothing on the side of the road but narrow grassy patches lined with trees.

She rocked her hips, and her pussy wet his length. The stroke washed his lower body with electric need. “God,” she breathed, “you feel good.”

“For the love of God…” he ground out from behind clenched teeth.

She pushed up on her knees, gripped his cock in her palm, and dragged him to her entrance.

Still no goddamned turnout. What the fuck was wrong with Missouri transit?

Her pussy closed over the tip of his cock, and another streak of lightning blinded him. When his sight returned, he was drifting toward the shoulder. He straightened, but… “Rubi…”