Wind River Wrangler (Wind River Valley #1)(96)

Her mouth was sweet, opening eagerly to him. Her breath moist across his cheek and nose as he deepened his exploration of her. The happy sound in her throat told him she enjoyed it, her hands sliding across his shoulders, drawing him closer, her breasts pressing tantalizingly against his chest.

Finally, Roan eased his mouth from hers. Neither of them was breathing evenly at this point. Searching her eyes, he saw remnants of anxiety in them along with building arousal. Skimming his hand from her back down to her hips, he rasped, “Bad dream?”

“Yes, same one. I’m getting tired of them,” she grumped, caressing his jaw.

“It’s just another way to work out the trauma,” Roan assured her, kissing her wrinkled brow. “You’re getting fewer of them as time goes on. That’s how it is.”

Shiloh pouted for a moment. “It seems like a bad dream now, Roan.”

“In time,” he soothed, kissing her nose and cheek, “you won’t have them anymore. It really will be in your past.” Lifting his head, he smiled a little. “Besides, you have a lot to look forward to.”

Her editor extended the deadline on her book because of the circumstances, much to Shiloh’s relief. Roan had seen her in the newly decorated office in the cabin and she was going back to writing. She’d asked him to read the new chapter, trepidation in her expression. Roan had read it and thought it was good. The relief in Shiloh’s eyes made him realize just how much she worried about being able to ever write again. The week after her escape from Leath, she had fallen completely apart. Roan had asked Maud for time off, stayed with her at the cabin, and helped her work through it. He didn’t realize how much a person could cry, but was glad to be there for Shiloh, to hold her.

Roan finally realized that ever since Isabella’s murder, Shiloh had sat on her grief, her shock and trauma. And it had all come due after her own near miss with death. Talking and crying had gotten her through the worst of it. And the last two weeks, Shiloh had found a new platform to live her life on. With him. She asked if she could live with him, to try out their relationship, to test it and see if it was going to stand the test of time. Roan knew it would, but she wasn’t there. At least, not yet. But one day, he knew she would be. Every day, he was seeing her settle in, get back to what she loved, which was writing stories.

As he studied her clear expression, he traced her arched eyebrow. “Every morning when I wake up with you at my side, you’re more beautiful than yesterday. Did you know that?” he asked, and he held her lustrous green eyes that widened over his words.

“No . . . I didn’t know that.”

“Well,” he murmured, trailing his fingers down the slope of her cheek, “maybe I need to say it more often. Let you know that you hold my heart.” He saw her lips part and soften, tears glimmering in her eyes. Shiloh was so easy to please. Roan was finding that if he told her what he was thinking, it made a huge impact on her. He was so used to working around men where a few words sufficed. But she was a woman and a writer. And words, he was finally grasping, were her lifeblood, the main highway into her heart and soul. And he was mindful of this because he loved her and he wanted Shiloh to finally be happy. He was going to learn to speak up or else. It wasn’t easy for him, but she was worth his every effort.

“I like when you tell me what you’re thinking,” she whispered. “I’m not a mind reader.”

A corner of his mouth hooked upward. “So you tell me but you keep finishing sentences I start. That’s pretty impressive, Darlin’.”

She searched his eyes, her hand coming to rest against his darkly haired chest. “Roan? I need to say something. Are you awake enough to talk? Or do you want to wait until after breakfast?”

He gave her an amused look because right now, his erection was pressing against her belly and he was wide awake. Roan couldn’t kiss Shiloh without wanting her in every possible way. “Now’s fine. What’s on your mind?”

Taking a deep breath, Shiloh said in a low tone, “I’ve been thinking . . . about my apartment in New York City.” She frowned. “I want to stay out here with you. I love Manhattan, but my soul is fed by being out here in the West.”

That apartment was where Shiloh grew up, for the most part. She knew no home other than her aunt and uncle’s home. He realized the importance of her decision. “Are you sure?”

Nodding, she closed her eyes and took a ragged breath. Reopening her eyes, she stared up at him. “It’s been coming for a while now. Maud told me a long time ago, when she came back for my mother’s funeral, that Manhattan owned my heart, but that my soul belonged in Wyoming. She was right.”

His heart thudded with sudden joy, but he kept the reaction to himself because he could see how torn Shiloh was. “Maybe there’s a compromise here?” he wondered out loud. “Your apartment is paid for. I know there are other fees to consider, but the mortgage is paid off. What if you leased it out? It would bring you in some income and it would still be yours. Be a part of your family history. A part of you.”

Roan didn’t think, at least right now, that Shiloh could sell it outright. That would be too much for her to emotionally bear. Maybe later. Maybe never. He would support whatever decision she made. He saw tears drift down the sides of her face and he gently smoothed them away with his fingers. He knew how much his family’s ranch meant to him even though he didn’t live there. It was still there. A part of his family’s soul and history. A part of of him. He sensed how much the apartment meant to Shiloh. Every good memory she had of her mother and father were contained in it. And of course, the bad memories, too. But for the most part, that apartment had been her world growing up. It had more good than bad memories attached to it.