Eyeing her long bronze legs and that perfect spot between her thighs where the skirt ended—the one he wanted to explore with his hands, tongue, and his dick—was rapidly destroying him. He was mere seconds from falling to his knees and begging her to tell him what he could do to make any and all of those fantasies a reality when she spoke.

“I don’t want you to be alone in your corner.”

Van tilted his head as if looking at her from a different angle would help that make sense.

“I get it now. It’s…it’s a fight. A battle. I don’t want you to fight alone in your corner.” The words came out slightly slurred. So she’d been drinking. Well, if alcohol lowered her inhibitions and loosened her lips, he’d take what he could get. He wouldn’t be acting out any of his dirty thoughts as long as she wasn’t in her right mind to decide, but he’d take an inebriated Stella over no Stella at all.

“I see. Would you like to come in?”

Hesitation flickered in those beautiful eyes. “It might not be allowed,” she whispered like they were little kids with a secret.

He whispered conspiratorially as well. “It probably isn’t. But I’m thinking it’d be safer to talk inside instead of risking someone seeing you on my doorstep past your bedtime.”

“I don’t have a bedtime, silly.” Stella giggled as she stepped inside, and Van was pretty damn certain it was the sexiest sound he’d ever heard. His dick had taken notice as well. Great. This was going to be an exercise in restraint. Those were always fun.

“Uh, I’d offer you something to drink, but all I have is bottled water.”

Once she was inside, Stella seemed to realize where she was. Her cheeks darkened past pink to crimson. “I’m not thirsty.” Her eyes met his and she licked her lips.

He had no idea what had gotten into her, but he wasn’t one to complain.

“So what can I do for you, Miss Chandler?” He had some ideas. But he figured it was best to let her say whatever she wanted to get off her intoxicated mind.

“I’ve been unfair to you and…” Her gaze shifted off of him and on to some unidentifiable point in the distance. “And no one’s guaranteed tomorrow, right?” Before he could agree, she rushed on. “And I don’t know what to do because I’m so screwed up and I don’t want to put that on someone in rehab who already has enough to deal with. You know what I mean?” Her eyes met his in search of understanding.

Van scratched his head. “Can’t say I’m completely with you, cowgirl. But I’m trying to keep up.”

She huffed out a breath the way someone on the verge of a hissy fit would. Like that temperamental horse she liked so much. She was pretty damn cute when she was drunk.

“If you say you’re not engaged, then I should believe you. Because who am I? It’s not like my opinion matters so much that you’d waste all that energy lying to me.” A worry line appeared between her eyebrows. “But that girl looked like…like she belonged with you. And I look like, like…” Helpless eyes met his, and he felt the roaring flames flaring in his chest.

Her opinion doesn’t matter? Her opinion was the only one that mattered. When the hell had that happened? Using a finger to tilt her chin up, he stared into her eyes until he’d penetrated the hazy layer of her buzz.

“I am not engaged. And for the record, you look like the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

There it was. That little gaspy, mouth-opening thing she did.

“Van.”

“Stella.”

A small fit of laughter burst from her. “Van and Stella. VanStella. Vanella!”

He rolled his eyes and shook his head before stepping farther into her personal space. “Babe, I can guarantee nothing we do together will be vanilla.”

That sobered her laughter immediately.

“They say you’re a madman,” she breathed, unfiltered panic lighting that gorgeous gaze. “You break stuff, trash hotel rooms and tour buses, and—”

“I know what they say, sweetheart. Some of it might be true. Question is, do you believe it? And how much do you really care?”

Exposed vulnerability poured out of her eyes when she returned his stare. “I believe you could wreck me. I believe you could make me feel things, things I’d never want to stop feeling. And then…my heart. I’m afraid you’d trash it just like those hotel rooms and tour buses.”

He had to pull every ounce of inner strength he had to his core to keep from stumbling backwards.

She wasn’t offering to be a quick lay. Or even a one-night stand neither of them would ever forget.

She’d gone and mentioned her heart.

He’d told her that once he fucked her, she’d belong to him. But he’d also chalked that up to his territorial male testosterone-fueled libido talking. Looking at her now, he realized it was more than that. The thought of fucking her once or even twice and then allowing her to move on to some other asshole was incomprehensible.

“Know what else I’m afraid of?” she asked before he had time to respond.

“What’s that?” he choked out despite the invisible hands keeping a stranglehold on his throat.

“Not feeling. Not risking it. Playing it safe and never seeing you again. Spending the rest of my life wondering.”

“Stella Jo, I… Dammit.” He stepped back and rubbed a hand over his head. He didn’t miss the wounded look that flickered across her face. But what the hell? Her heart? How could he ask her to trust him with something so precious? He was in rehab because he couldn’t take care of his own ass for fuck’s sake.

The sweet column of exposed flesh above her breasts tightened as she swallowed.

“I-I’m a foolish woman,” she stammered, backing towards the door. “I had too much to drink tonight. I shouldn’t have come. Sorry.”

Watching her pull away caused him physical pain. Somehow, even in the short time they’d known one another, she’d latched on to something inside of him and was tearing it out as she went. Just as she turned on her heel, Van grabbed her elbow and whirled her around to face him.

“Oh no, cowgirl. You don’t get to just leave like this.”

“I don’t?”

Van grinned. “No, ma’am. That’s the thing about Texas, from what I hear. Guests get treated with respect.”

Her eyebrows dipped as she regarded him warily.

“So, you say what you came to say. Come on, cowgirl. What happened to ‘I’ve dealt with animals bigger than you’? Don’t go shy on me now.”

Her eyes narrowed.

His gaze dropped to her proudly displayed breasts as she shoved her shoulders back. He couldn’t decide if he loved that dress or hated it. He loved the way it showcased her perfect body for him, hated knowing she’d been out drinking with other motherfuckers getting to see it.

“Okay then. I will.” Her chin jutted out, and he grinned.

“Let’s hear it.” Folding his arms over his bare chest, he smiled wider when he noticed her own eyes struggling to stay north of his neck.

“The way I see it, we have two options. Either I put in my notice and quit my job so that whatever is going to happen between us doesn’t get you kicked out and get me fired or we wait until you’re out of here to give in.”

“Give in to what, darlin’?”

“To how badly you want to fuck me,” she said evenly. And then she quietly added, “And how badly I want to let you.”

Van’s mom was catholic, but he had no idea if there was a patron saint of being owned. If there was, he needed to pray to it. Immediately. Maybe St. Jude would listen. Because right then, he was a lost cause if ever there was one. Any hope he’d had of protecting Stella Jo Chandler from himself had flown right out the fucking window.

Van cleared his throat. “What if we take it slow? One day at a time. See where this leads us,” he suggested, wrapping his arms around her. “Maybe you don’t have to quit your job and we don’t have to torture ourselves for two long months. Maybe we’re just…careful.”

Well there was a word he’d never used. Careful was the exact opposite of the kind of approach he had on living. He could hardly believe he was the one suggesting that they take things slow.