Ox froze.

“You said it, and it’s just hanging there now,” Emmie whispered. “I can’t pretend I didn’t hear it. I don’t want to pretend I didn’t hear it. But I don’t want to say the same thing back to you right now because then what if you think I’m just saying it because you did? I don’t want you to think that, because… because it’s not. That’s not why I’d be saying it, but I can’t say it now.”

His voice was rough. “Why not?”

“Because you scare me to death.” She fisted a hand over her heart. “I almost said it the first morning after you kissed me. You were joking with Tayla through the door, and you two were making each other laugh and I thought it, which is crazy because that’s way too soon, right? It’s crazy soon, and that’s not who I am, Ox. I need time and I need to know I can depend—”

“Stop.” Ox put a finger on her lips. “You’re freaking out again, and I’m done being patient.” He didn’t say another word. He bent down, picked her up, and lifted her to his mouth. Emmie wrapped her legs around his waist held on while he kissed the hell out of her. She went from frozen to boneless in seconds. Ox turned the deadbolt in the door and strode toward the stairs, his mouth never leaving hers.

Emmie dug her fingers into his shoulders and gripped the thick muscles that tensed under her hands. Ox stopped at the base of the stairs and set her down.

“My shoes are muddy,” he said.

“So take them off.” She started unbuttoning the quilted flannel shirt he wore over his T-shirt.

Ox bent down and tugged off his boots and socks, leaving them in a pile at the base of the stairs. He looked at her fingers unbuttoning his shirt.

“What are you doing?”

“You’re soaking wet.”

“So are you.” He fingered the tiny buttons on her black cardigan. “Buttons.”

She shoved his wet flannel off his shoulders. “And your jeans are muddy.”

“I’m filthy.”

“You should take them off.”

“I should.”

Her heart started to race as soon as his fingers flipped open the buttons on his fly. He peeled down his wet jeans, leaving himself clad only in a soaking-wet pair of boxer briefs and a T-shirt.

Emmie backed up the stairs, her fingers hooked in the hem of his shirt.

“Your clothes are all wet.” Ox gripped her black cardigan at the waist and pulled it up and over her head. “That’s better.”

She kept walking backward up the stairs, pulling him with her. “Are you cold?”

“Freezing.” He peeled off his T-shirt, exposing every delicious inch of his black-and-grey-inked chest. “But I’m getting warmer all the time.”

“Tayla’s out of town.”

“Don’t care.”

Ox kept up with her on the stairs, knitting their fingers together and pulling her close for a kiss. His lips were chilled but heated on hers. Steam had to be coming off her skin. Ox reached behind her and opened the door at the top of the stairs, but they didn’t make it inside. Emmie lost her footing and sat down hard on the top step. Ox crawled up to her, fumbling with her skirt as he tried to pull it off.

“You okay?”

“Fine.”

“Where’s the…?”

“Here.”

“Is it a zip— Got it.” He pulled the skirt down her legs, exposing her legs to the dim light in the stairwell. The hardwood floor was cold, but she barely noticed as Ox reached for her shirt and rolled it up her torso. Emmie lifted her arms and let him undress her.

She was freezing cold and hot at the same time. The air chilled her skin, but Ox heated it. He nipped at her neck as he threw her shirt over his shoulder and down the stairs. He crawled between her legs, knees on the steps beneath the landing, and pushed her back, coming down on top of her and covering her torso with his body.

“Are you cold?” he asked, his lips hovering over hers.

“Not anymore.”

He flashed a smile before he kissed her again. His tongue teased her lips until she opened for him. Her thighs cradled his hips, and she could feel the delicious weight of his body pressing hers into the floor. They were at the top of the stairs, only a few feet from her door, but she couldn’t seem to pull away. Ox was ravenous, biting her lips and squeezing her breasts before he ran his hands down the side of her body.

“Sex on stairs,” he whispered against her lips, “is highly overrated. Except for one particular thing.” Kissing down her body, he rolled her panties down her legs and tossed those over his shoulder too. Spreading her legs, he settled between them, kneeling and bringing his mouth down to the juncture of her thighs.

“Oh my—” Emmie gasped and clutched at his arms as Ox feasted on her.

She writhed on the floor, the cold hardwood at her back and the heat of Ox’s mouth between her thighs. Lights flashed behind her closed eyes as she climaxed in a sharp crescendo of pleasure. His lips and tongue stayed on her, driving her out of her mind. She couldn’t remember what it felt like to be cold. There was only heat and pleasure and Ox. His kisses turned softer, savoring her, easing her down from the high. She watched him as he sat up. He licked his lips and held his hand out, helping Emmie to her feet on nearly boneless legs.

“Bed.”

Emmie nodded wordlessly but didn’t move. Ox picked her up and she clung to his shoulders as he unhooked her bra and dropped it in the middle of the living room. She was completely naked as he carried her through the apartment. Rain pounded on the roof, running down the windows and turning Main Street into an oily blur. He found his way to her room in the darkness, tossing her on the bed and stripping down to his skin. The room was lit by streetlamps outside, awash in blacks and greys, lending her familiar surroundings a surreal air as rain smeared the windows and beat against the roof.

Ox put a fist around his erection and watched Emmie scoot up the bed in the dim light. “Condoms?”

“Bottom drawer in the bathroom.”

He nodded and walked out the door, returning in moments with a box he tore open with his teeth. He rolled on a condom and fell on the bed, grabbing Emmie and searching for her mouth again.

“Wanted you…,” he murmured against her lips. “I’ve wanted you since the first day we met.”

“Even though— Oh my…” Emmie gasped as Ox shoved her up to the pillows and latched his mouth around one breast. “Ox, stop teasing.”

“Never.” He rolled to his back and dragged her over his chest. Then he sat up and scooted against the headboard, bracing Emmie on his lap with his hands gripping her hips. “I like teasing you. I like handling you.”

Emmie had never felt more handled. Or turned on. Ox was strong. He lifted her and brought her down over his lap, easing himself into her body as he captured her lips. He groaned out her name as she sank onto him, pressing their bodies together. He moved them together, surging into her as she braced herself on his shoulders.

His name was on her lips when he captured them again, swallowing her cries as they moved together. He surrounded her. Consumed her.

I love you. Forget falling. I fell.

“You caught me,” Emmie whispered.

Ox blinked and cupped her face in his palm. “What?” Red rode high on his cheekbones, and his lips were swollen and dark.

“You caught me. I fell and you caught me.”

She didn’t say it, but the look in his eyes told Emmie he knew. The hand that gripped her hip turned soft, and his lips were tender when he kissed her again. “I’ll always catch you.”

Ox rolled her to her back and braced himself over her, moving more slowly as he made love to her. Emmie spread her hands over his chest, stroking his skin and smoothing her hands over the hard planes of his abdomen. She lifted her hips and moved with him, meeting his thrusts with her hips.

“Emmie.” His breath caught. “Are you—?”

“Close.” She could feel it building again, the slow steady thrum of pleasure that coiled and gripped her. He didn’t stop. He didn’t pause. He didn’t lose a single beat.

“Fucking come,” he hissed between gritted teeth. “Emmie—”

“Yes!” She arched her back, gripping his shoulders as she lost control and heard him shout her name. He gripped her thigh and spread her legs wider, driving impossibly deeper as he came. Ox fell over her, kissing her mouth. Her cheeks. Her chin. Her eyelids. He rolled to the side and gathered her close, keeping them linked as he caught his breath.

His chest rose and fell. He pulled out and rolled to the side to get rid of the condom, then came back to her and buried his face in her neck, inhaling deeply against her skin and peppering kisses over her neck and shoulder.

“Oh fuck,” he breathed out. “Best thing ever.”

Emmie smiled and kissed his temple. She could already feel his body relaxing against hers. He scooted up the bed and shoved pillows underneath his head, tucking Emmie against his shoulder as his eyes began to droop.

“Gonna fall asleep,” he muttered. “Been… up. For a while.”

“Sleep,” Emmie whispered. “Sleep as long as you need to.”

He pressed her closer. “Stay.”

“I’ll stay.”

Emmie fell asleep minutes after Ox did, listening to the storm roll around them.

She woke in the middle of the night. Ox was kissing her shoulder, tracing his tongue over the vines and flowers that covered her back, kissing each butterfly with soft lips. She reached down and knit her fingers with his, bringing his hand to palm her breast. He indulged with lazy strokes and lingering kisses, heating her blood to the boiling point as the rain spattered against the windows. The storm had turned and the rain fell soft and steady on the roof.

He was kissing her neck when he lifted her knee and slid into her from behind. Ox curled his arms around her and hugged her to his chest, whispering in her ear as he rocked her slowly.

His hands, his words, his heat eased her into a bone-melting orgasm. She turned her head, searching for his mouth. He met her kiss, holding her closer as he let himself come.

“Love you,” he murmured, falling back into sleep.

Emmie clutched his arms around her. If this was a dream, she didn’t want to wake up. If this would end in heartbreak, she didn’t want to know. She felt a tear slip down her cheek as her heart clenched painfully.

I love you, Miles Oxford. I love you so much.

He scared her to death, but she couldn’t bring herself to be cautious anymore. For once, Emmie wanted the dream.

“Emmie.” A tickling touch on her nose. A kiss on her lips. “Wake up, Buttons.”

Emmie kept her eyes closed. “I can’t believe you’re still calling me that.”

He slid a hand between her thighs. “Do you need a reminder?”

“Mmmm.” She wiggled her bottom back into him and felt jeans. Emmie frowned and opened her eyes. “You’re dressed.”

“I have to head out to the ranch for a couple hours,” he whispered. “I thought I’d go early so I could come back and we could spend your day off together. Did you have plans?”

She shook her head and reminded herself that she wasn’t some needy child. Ox’s mother had just had a health scare. He needed to help take care of her. She couldn’t be selfish.

“What time will you be back?”

“I’m not sure.” He kissed her. “The earlier I go, the earlier I can come back. I didn’t want to leave without letting you know.”

“Hmm.” She grunted. “From now on, let’s have a policy about responding to phone calls and text messages.”

He squeezed her ass. “For both of us.”

“Yes, for both of us.”

“Good. Can this be an amendment to the employee manual right after the one about you sexually harassing me daily?”

“I am not your boss.”

“But office sex is still an option, right?”

“Yes.”

“How about my tattoo chair?”

She pinched the skin on the inside of his elbow and he yelped. “There are no curtains in that shop. Don’t even think about it.”

“Too late,” he whispered. “I’m already thinking about it. Privacy screens? I can get another one. Think about you riding me in that chair. Fucking me while you—”

She slapped a hand over his mouth. “Stop unless you want me to strip you out of those clothes you just put on.”

Ox took her hand off his mouth and tore the shirt over his head. “Smart girlfriends are the best.”

Before Emmie could think about the word Ox had casually thrown out, he thoroughly—very thoroughly—distracted her, and she didn’t think about anything for another hour. Or so.