Redneck Romeo (Rough Riders #15)(120)

“I’d ask you to get drunk with me, but I hit it a little hard earlier so I’m done for the night.”


“Are you hungry? I could make you something to eat.”


He smoothed the strands of hair he’d tangled up. “Come to think of it, I haven’t eaten all day.”


“Let me fix you a quick sandwich.”


“I’d like that.” He didn’t loosen his hold on her so she waited. “Can you stick around a little longer after that?”


“Of course.” She left a lingering kiss on his lips before she retreated to the kitchen.


Her stomach growled so she made an extra grilled cheese sandwich for herself. She heated up a can of tomato soup, found the crackers and set everything on the table.


She draped her arms around his neck from behind and kissed his temple. “Soup’s on.”


Dalton ate most of the meal. He didn’t speak besides to tell her thanks for cooking for him a couple of times.


Rory couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so helpless. But she wouldn’t push him to talk even when she wanted to know everything running through his brain. Every weight on his heart.


He stood. “I’m gonna hit the shower.” His gaze swept over the stove and returned to her. “Don’t even think about doin’ them dishes.”


“Quit bossing me around and take your shower.”


As soon as she heard the water kick on, she loaded the dishwasher and cleaned up the kitchen. She poured him a glass of iced tea and left it on the coffee table next to the scotch.


She didn’t have a change of clothes and she’d worn her uniform long enough, so she grabbed a pair of Dalton’s athletic shorts, a sleeveless T-shirt and a pair of socks. She was in her bra and panties when he walked into the bedroom, holding a towel around his waist.


A little drool might’ve slipped out the corner of her mouth. As many times as she’d seen his sculpted body, as many times as she’d had her hands and mouth all over those cut muscles and pressed herself that warm male skin, she should be used to the rolling wave of lust whenever she caught sight of him nude.


But she hoped she’d never get used to it. Never take for granted this sexy hunk of man was with her. And if he had his way, he’d be with her for the long haul. Rory had started to believe that might actually be possible for them.


Then he dropped the towel and that tight round butt was within reach.


Under normal circumstances she’d play grab ass with him. Scrape her nails down his back while her mouth attacked the back of his neck. Or she’d drop to her knees.


Rory did none of those things. “I borrowed some clothes if that’s okay.”


Dalton spared her a glance. “Anything I have is yours, so no worries.” He slipped on a pair of flannel pants—he’d gone commando, no surprise—and a white T-shirt.


The man rocked a plain white tee like no one’s business. She could see the muscles in back ripple. The flex of his arms showed off those biceps, triceps and forearms. Not to mention his shoulders seemed nearly as wide as the doorframe.


“While I love how you’re lookin’ at me, sugarplum, I don’t think I’m up to takin’ you for a tumble.”


She saw he’d been watching her in the mirror. “I was just admiring you.” She walked to him and wrapped her arms around his middle, resting her chin on his shoulder. “No pressure to get naked with me. But I won’t hide my lustful thoughts from you either.”


Dalton lightly brushed his lips over hers, and said, “I love you. It’s there. All the time. Like your lust. And I won’t hide it from you or anyone else either.” He planted a chaste kiss on her forehead and grabbed her hand. “Watch some mindless TV with me?”


“Sure.”


In the living room he flipped on the TV and stretched out on the couch. He patted the cushion and she stretched out in front of him so their bodies touched from head to toe.


He wasn’t the guy who clicked through channels. He picked a channel and stayed there. Some sitcom was on but Rory had no idea which one and she doubted Dalton would know either.


Talk to me. Please.


Rory felt his lips on her crown. The random kisses and constant caresses were the only sign of normalcy in him. She had no idea how much time had passed and she’d started to drift off when he spoke.


“The funeral is Friday.”


Her tongue seemed frozen.


“Will you come with me?” he asked softly.


“Of course.”


“Did that just sound like I asked you on a date to my father’s funeral?”


“No.” Rory rolled over and looked into his eyes, repeating, “No. We’re beyond dating anyway.” She placed her hand on his heart and snuggled into him.


A moment later he said, “It was seriously f*ckin’ bizarre today. Even now I can’t believe it’s happening.” He talked in a monotone, detailing the events. She remained still, tucked against him, her thumb sweeping back and forth over his pectoral.


“After the meeting with the pastor at the apartment we went to the funeral home.” A shudder worked through him. “Creepy f*ckin’ place. Since my dad had made arrangements beforehand, it was just some weird formality. Like if there were additional charges who’d pay for them and all that bullshit. I mean, what kind of charges can a dead guy rack up?”