Wind River Wrangler (Wind River Valley #1)(45)

Roan reluctantly broke their kiss, pulling back just enough to hold her barely opening eyes. They were breathing hard. Both were tense. Needy. Wanting. She gulped and fearlessly met his stormy gray gaze. Shiloh had never seen a man who was a hunter. But she saw one now. There was an intense feeling around Roan, raw and untamed, as he studied her, his nostrils flaring to catch her scent. He ruthlessly dug into her opening eyes, reading her, trying to understand where she was at within herself and what she wanted from him.

“This is your call,” he said, his voice low and guttural.

Shiloh felt him remove his fingers from her hair. She wanted to groan over the loss until he began to sift them through her strands, sending new and wonderful heat through her ripening body. Roan ruthlessly searched her eyes. It was so hard to speak, her body online, her brain offline. Licking her lower lip, tasting Roan on it, she managed a trembling, “I don’t want you to stop. I don’t want to stop,” and she fearlessly met and held his intent gaze. There was a bare movement of the corner of his well-shaped mouth curving upward. She felt as if she were quivering from the inside out with excitement coupled with a desperate yearning for Roan in every possible way.

Large hands, long, callused fingers curled around her shoulders. Her flesh was wild with throbbing need as he gently smoothed the rumpled fabric against her shoulders and upper back. “Sure?”

Shiloh gulped. It felt to her as if she were stepping off into space. Instinctively, she knew committing to Roan was going to change her life. This man played for keeps. He made no attempt to disguise his need for her. She saw it in his gray, silver-flecked eyes. Felt it like a fiery blanket surrounding her. “Very sure.” She saw his straight, dark brown brows fall. For a moment, she panicked. Was Roan backing off? Worried in some way? Doubting her? Himself?

Roan moved her hair across her shoulder. “You’re a brave little thing. You know that?” he said, and his mouth curved carelessly.

Shiloh wanted to melt in his hands. They moved through the silk of her hair. She saw appreciation in his expression, pleasure burning in his eyes as he continued to tangle his fingers, as if exploring. It was such a sensual experience for her. “I know what I want,” she admitted, breathless. His smile grew male and he released her hair, sliding his hands down the length of her arms, capturing her fingers within his.

“This changes everything, Shiloh. You know that, don’t you?”

Giving a jerky nod, she whispered, “Yes. You play for keeps, Roan. You’re not a one-night-stand kind of man.” She watched him lose his smile as he studied her with hunger. Finally, he was allowing her to see how he really felt toward her. To be desired by this taciturn, intense warrior made every inch of her body spring to thrilling life. She wanted his hands all over her, exploring her, teasing her, giving her pleasure. Roan was skilled. That much was obvious, but this man had such depth that he engaged her on deeper levels. Roan was a one-woman kind of man. He wasn’t the type to walk away. She’d walked away from three relationships in her life precisely because they were getting too close. She was so afraid of loss. Loss of the man she’d give her heart to. Her mother was utterly smitten with her father. She’d given her soul to him. Only to have her soul ripped apart, her heart utterly crushed, when he’d died so young. So suddenly.

“You’re afraid.”

Roan’s low, deep voice flowed through her wall of fear. She saw questions in his eyes. What was she afraid of? “Not of you.”

Nodding, Roan cupped her hands within his spare ones, studying them. “The fear you have is deep, Shiloh.”

“It has nothing to do with you.” She saw that hooked, one-cornered smile tug at his mouth. His eyes never left hers; as if he were memorizing her, burning her into his mind, his heart. His soul? She didn’t want to go there. Didn’t even want to think beyond tonight.

“I think it does.”

Her lips thinned and she looked away, feeling the roughness of his fingers upon hers. Her flesh was starving for his touch, tiny jolts of heat flying continuously up her hand and into her wrist as he gently moved them within his fingers. He handled her as if she were a priceless, fragile being who might shatter if touched wrongly. Forcing herself to look up at Roan, she saw his eyes had grown gentle with questions once more. The man inspired trust. Now she was getting a taste of what he’d said earlier about villagers trusting the A-team members. Roan cultivated it like breathing.

“I—” she stumbled, frowning. Shiloh felt ashamed in even admitting it to Roan, but she pushed herself because he was a man of honor. He presented himself exactly as he was. No games. No mask. No charade. Roan deserved her honesty. “I don’t have a good track record with men,” she began in a halting voice. “At a certain point, I break it off. . . .” Shame swallowed her whole and she couldn’t hold the sympathetic look that she saw come to Roan’s gray eyes.

“Is that a promise? Or is it a warning, Darlin’?”

Hearing the roughened words, she shrugged. “I just can’t seem to commit, Roan. You’re right: I get scared. I break it off. I haven’t had that many relationships. Three.” Shiloh felt as if she were severely lacking. A wound so large in her that it controlled her life. That wasn’t something to be proud of and she felt humiliated by admitting it to Roan.

“And you’re afraid you’ll break it off with me the same way you did with the other men?”