Mind Games

“Okay. More.” Turning to Ty, Bray opened his mouth.

And when Ty spooned more peas and carrots into that waiting mouth, it plucked every string in Thea’s heart.

“More than that?”

“Okay.”

Ty added another serving to his plate. “Now look what you’ve done,” he said to Thea. “You’re going to put Birds Eye out of business. We used to swear by them.”

“Buy some actual potatoes, and I’ll show you how to make hand cut fries.”

“So, you’re after Ore-Ida, too? What’s next? Chef Boyardee, Tombstone?”

“One step at a time.”

Once Bray cleaned his plate and played chase with Bunk, she helped Ty deal with the dishes.

“He ate three servings of vegetables. That’s a record.”

“Grammie has more in the garden, and so do I. He’s welcome to whatever he’ll eat. Listen, I shouldn’t’ve given you a hard time about the frozen and the boxes. It sounded so critical when I—”

“I didn’t take it that way.” Taking her by the hips, Ty turned her. “And he ate three helpings. Plus, I had someone lifting the heavy weight. I’ll weed the damn herb patch.”

“Good, that’s—”

When he kissed her this time, everything stopped. And everything started. Not so light now, not with the heat rising. His hands slid up her sides, lingered there for five galloping beats of her heart before gliding to her back to draw her closer.

As the kiss went deeper.

She gave herself to it, to the rush of being touched, tasted, wanted. Oh yes, wanted, because beneath the skill of a long, slow, deep kiss, she felt that wanting, and the quickening urgency behind it.

What slept inside her wakened, and answered.

He’d thought of her, too often, too often since that first day she’d rushed down the road toward him behind her mountain of a dog.

But he hadn’t meant to do more than think. Complications, so many complications, and risks. But she’d pulled him in by doing no more than being.

And she smelled so damn good.

It had been so long since he’d had a woman’s body pressed against his. A woman who not only stirred his needs to life but intrigued him, one he could just talk to. One who at least seemed to understand him.

When she pressed a hand to his shoulder, he made himself ease back. Then she looked at him, those gorgeous blue eyes drowsy and dazed.

“I—”

“Just give me one more minute.”

Just one more, he thought as he took her mouth again. One more minute to feel what she could do to him. Hot blood flowing, the sweet aches of need, the rush of images in his mind of how she’d look under him.

He eased back again, but didn’t let go.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”

“That’s clear. Yeah, that came through.” She nudged him, stepped back. “I have to go. I really have to go now or I’ll be in trouble. I have to go feed my chickens.”

The laugh just rolled out of him. “That’s not something a guy usually hears when a woman backs off.”

“It’s true, and I’m not backing off. Well, I am, right now. Right now, I’m— God.” Waving a hand in the air, she took another step back. “Just really … I’m usually better at this. I’ve been better at this.”