“Then kiss me, damn it!” she growled like a little puppy.

“Fuck, you make me so hot when you act like that,” he said and laughed.

Confusion tinged her warm hazel eyes. “When I act like what?”

“Like a puppy, so young and sweet, with just a little bite to you.” He trapped her in his arms and moved them back so he pinned her against the fridge. “Makes me want to wrestle you to the ground and fuck you senseless.” He nipped her chin, then possessed her mouth, relishing the shock of her reaction to his words. Sometimes her natural sensuality and her innocence were an explosive combination.

“Don’t worry. There’s plenty of time to try that and a lot more,” he teased between steamy, slow kisses. The way she responded to his kisses alone was beautiful. She put her whole heart and body into it, the flames of her hunger and the desire heating his own body until he swore he’d ignite.

Unable to resist, he cupped her between her legs, but she bit his lip hard and he stepped back.

“Sorry,” she said and gasped. “I didn’t mean to bite you. It’s sore down there.” She ducked her head but Wes refused to let her indulge in any more self-pity.

“You are right. Too soon to go at it again. But it is time for dinner.” He gave her what he hoped looked like a reassuring smile. It was killing him to wait to have her again, but he would wait, so long as she needed him to. He, a man who swore never to wait for anything or anyone he wanted, had to bide his time. Callie was too precious a thing to risk. Too precious.

*  *  *

Dinner turned out perfect. Callie mentally gave herself a pat on the back. Of course, pot roast was easy so long as you had everything to throw into the pan in the right amounts. Wes had likely eaten much fancier and far more expensive meals than this, but she had a feeling it was the first time he’d actually helped cook. The look of pride in his eyes when he’d showed her the artfully arranged plates was obvious, and incredibly sweet. But hot too…There was nothing like a man who had worked hard on something and was proud of it. She knew Wes worked hard on his art consultations, but because of his wealth, everything else was too easy for him.

“I have to admit, this was an enjoyable experience.” He set his fork and knife down on his plate and pushed it across the large dining room table.

“What was?” Did he mean the food or the sex they’d had earlier? She’d have to agree in either case. She felt different. Changed. Her virginity was gone and in its place was a secret knowledge of darker, more sinful pleasures and a knowledge of how things could be with a man like Wes. It was more than satisfaction. It was thrilling, a pure rush of excitement, anticipation, and then, at last, pleasure. So much pleasure.

“Both aspects of the evening,” he clarified with a little twinkle in his eye. “Are you finished?” He gestured to the empty plate in front of her.

“Mm-hm.” She nodded. Her stomach was pleasantly full and she wanted to take another nap. Was sex and good food going to overcome her years of natural work ethic? Probably. She almost giggled. It had been half a week away from the ranch now and she wasn’t used to having so little to do. No horses to tend to, cattle to feed, fences to mend, men to cook for. Of course, when she went back, much of that would no longer be her duty, since Fenn had already hired fifteen able-bodied ranch hands to work full time on the Broken Spur.

Wes rose and collected their plates, setting them in the sink. The distant tinkling sound of porcelain and china assured her he wasn’t planning on doing the dishes. She would have wanted to help if that was the case, and right now she didn’t want to move at all. She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes.

Seconds later they flew open again when she was being lifted up in Wes’s arms.

“Wore you out, did I?” he said and chuckled. Callie was not the sort of woman who liked to be carried about, but she’d seen Fenn haul Hayden around over his shoulder. There was something feminine about it, and no doubt a silly part of her wanted a man to do that to her, to prove he was strong. Not to prove that she was weak. There was a difference.

“Not going to insist I put you down?” He seemed amused at her relaxed reaction to him carrying her.

“Nope. If you had any idea how tired I was, you wouldn’t, either.” She tightened her hold around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder, inhaling the rich scent of his skin. He didn’t wear cologne, didn’t need it. And she preferred a man’s natural scent anyway. Men were supposed to smell like pines and winter and wild winds. Not like a bottle of rotted plants crushed and soaked in chemicals.

“Are you sniffing me?” Wes asked, a rough laugh escaping him when she ducked her head and blushed.

“I like how you smell, too,” he said more softly, that rich seductive lilt in his voice like honey. “Makes me hungry for you, for your body, for your kiss. It makes me think that if dreams had a scent, they would smell like you.”

She stared up at him, astonished at the almost bashful, poetic musings that slipped from his sensual lips. These were not words spent to entice or seduce, but rather confessed to her with a sense of curious wonder. There was so much about him she wanted to know. She didn’t want to feel like he was a stranger, not after everything they’d shared so far.

“Wes, what’s your favorite color?”

“Favorite color?” He climbed the stairs that led to their rooms and carried her into the bathroom.

“Yes. Color. What is it?”

He set her down on her feet and started to run a bath in the massive tub that was more like a hot tub than anything. Once he seemed satisfied with the water’s temperature, he straightened.

“My favorite color.” He crossed his arms, brows furrowed. “Yellow.”

“What kind of yellow? There are a bunch.” Callie thought of cadmium yellow, trying to ignore the wave of homesickness for the ranch.

Wes walked up to her and settled his hands on her hips, gazing down at her. “The yellow of a lantern’s warm glow in summer.”

There in his eyes, a secret shimmered effervescently and Callie ached to see it.

“Why that color?” she probed gently.

Wes sighed, the sound ancient and full of a century’s worth of sorrow. “Before my ninth birthday, my life was rich in love, in color, in friends. I didn’t know the darkness in men’s hearts, didn’t know the evil that drives people to hurt others to get what they want. I was just a boy. Innocent. I used to camp with my friends, Emery, Fenn, and Royce. The four of us were inseparable. And that last summer…” A man’s rage and a boy’s fear collided in his eyes and roughened his voice. “That summer our innocence perished. The lantern-glow yellow is the way back to those memories for me. It’s a way to remind myself of what was, but is no longer.” His hands were on her hips and they tightened slightly, as though he needed to root himself in place and holding her was the only way to do it.

Callie knew of the kidnapping of the Lockwood twins, had recently learned just how horrible things had been for Fenn and Emery. She could only imagine how hard it would be for Wes, as a little boy, to lose one friend and have another one come back emotionally damaged. Even though she had been only four, losing her mother had scarred her soul. There was an emptiness inside her that could never be filled, a void that could be filled only by the presence of a mother she would never have.

“Lantern yellow is a lovely color,” she said. There was nothing else a person could say after a confession like his.

“And yours is cobalt blue. Why?” He seemed genuinely curious as to her answer and she felt compelled to tell him the truth.

“Your eyes. They’re cobalt. It’s such a rare shade of blue. No impurities, only endless depth.” She reached up, unthinking as she touched his cheek and studied his eyes, this time from her artist’s eyes. Sometimes the artist in her was its own being that woke like a sleeping goddess to wave her hand and create magic upon the page before slumbering again. Callie often teased that inner part of herself, calling it the reluctant muse. Around Wes there was no reluctance. If anything, he’d put her muse into overdrive.