it.
For a while heâd thought heâd been able to see her silhouette sitting there. Heâd imagined that she was inviting him over, would welcome him. He didnât remember getting up from the bench or heading toward the hotel. He wanted another kiss. He wanted a night of just holding her, of listening to her, hoarding the final moments of the single day that heâd promised to grant her.
But in the end, he couldnât bring himself to do it, to cross the street to the hotel, to go up to her room and ask her to invite him in. She wasnât the kind of woman who gave herself easily. And he was the kind of man who only deserved the kind of woman she wasnât.
Heâd knocked on the door at the closed general store until Tom had finally come out from the back where he was no doubt working on his ledgers, inspecting his inventory. With Tom grumbling the entire time, Matt had gone inside and bought that dime novel that Tom had been boasting about earlier.
Now he was stretched out on his bed, staring at words that Andi had written, wondering when sheâd become Andi to him, wondering what words she might write about him. If there would be any truth in them.
He heard the door to his office open and close.
Very slowly, he reached beneath the pillow and wrapped his fingers around the cold ivory of his Colt. He released his grip when he saw her standing in the doorway to his room.
Swinging his legs off the bed, clutching the book, he came to his feet. âWhat are you doing here?â
His voice was raspy, strangled.
She licked her lower lip, and he could see the doubts harbored in her eyes. âYou promised me today,â she said quietly. âItâs not yet tomorrow. Weâve got a couple of more hours.â
Reaching out, he set the book on the table beside his bed, then took three steps closer to her. âI donât work at my desk at night.â
âI didnât think you did.â
âI donât leave this roomââ
âI know.â
With a low feral growl, he drew her into his arms, slanted his mouth over hers, and kissed her deeply, hungrily, holding nothing back. He was wearing only trousers. He inhaled sharply as she explored his back, the first touch of a womanâs hands against his bare skin in so long that the pleasure of it nearly drove him to his knees.
Drawing back from her mouth, he cradled her face and held her gaze. âIf youâre not wanting any more than kissinâ, tell me now.â
âAre you going to send me away if thatâs all I want?â
âI couldnât send you away if my life depended on it, but if kissinâ is all you want, Iâll keep my pants on.â
âAnd if itâs not?â she asked, almost shyly.
âThen my pants are coming off and so is your dress and anything that youâre wearing underneath it.â
He saw the heat of desire flare in her eyes. âIâm not wearing anything at all under my dress.â
He felt as though sheâd delivered a kick to the center of his chest. âGod Almighty.â
Then her boldness retreated, and her hesitancy returned. She cupped his jaw, stroked her thumb over his mustache. âMatt, Iâve never . . . lain with a man before. Iâm not afraid of you, but I amââ
âShh.â He placed his thumb against her lips. âIâll make it good for you, darlinâ. Weâve got until the sun comes up.â
He lowered his mouth to hers, knowing that if he were indeed the hero she so desperately wanted, heâd send her away.
He wouldnât loosen her buttons, one by one.
He wouldnât part the material and move her dress off her shoulders. He wouldnât watch with rapt fascination as it slid down her body and pooled at her feet.
He wouldnât feel his body tighten with wanting, wouldnât rasp, âYouâre so beautiful.â
He wouldnât take her hand and lead her to the