She’d missed him. That was something more. He lowered himself to the wooden beam that formed the edge of the bed frame. He was afraid that in her embarrassment, she’d pull her hand from his, so he tightened his hold.

“Hey.” He caressed her hand again with his thumb. “I missed you too.”

Her lashes flew up, and her eyes widened. “You did?”

“Yep. A whole lot.” He might as well spill the truth. “I was mighty ready to be home again.”

She lifted her free hand from Astrid and cupped his cheek. “And I was mighty ready for you to be home.”

He suddenly couldn’t think of anything but the fact that she was touching his cheek. He was scruffy and unshaven and dusty, but her fingers felt as smooth and soft as a newborn calf’s hide. He leaned in to her, giving her permission to stay there, to caress him, to hold him, to do whatever she wanted.

As though sensing his offer, her hand skimmed his jaw. A charge of pleasure shot through him, making him conscious of their proximity. Before he could stop himself, he caressed her cheek the same way she had his.

At her quick inhale, he froze. He didn’t want to scare her or push her away. But as he looked into her eyes, he didn’t see any fear, only welcome. And desire?

A low burn started in his gut and spread into his blood. Would she let him kiss her? Right here? Right now?

He rubbed his thumb from her cheek to her lips. As his callused pad brushed against her soft fullness, she sucked in another breath, staring straight at his mouth in return.

When she imperceptibly moved toward him, he closed the distance, letting his lips touch hers and drink her in like water from a crystal-clear mountain brook. She responded with a thirst that matched his, and she slipped her hand behind his neck as though to urge him to get his fill.

Her lips were sweeter than anything he’d known, but rather than sating him, the kiss made him thirstier so that he delved deeper, needing more of her. She arched up, giving him more, her hands moving from his neck to his shoulders and down his arms, as though she needed him too.

The pressure in his chest tightened. This woman. His wife. Greta. Was he falling in love with her?

The very thought brought him to a halt, and he broke the kiss. Her soft gasps brushed his lips, the warmth, the sweetness, the pleasure overwhelming him but also settling fear deep into his bones and digging up all the doubts that had been lingering.

What if he couldn’t be the kind of husband she needed and he ended up letting her down? What if his attempt at ranching didn’t work out? What if he had to move on again?

Chapter 17