When Jesse’s lips dropped to my neck, I tilted my head back and pressed harder against him. I didn’t stop pressing closer until I felt his chest thumping hard against mine. I didn’t stop until I felt his breathing pick up yet again. I didn’t stop until he was fitted so hard between my legs I knew if I were to slide up or down, I’d come undone instantly.

So instead, I ran my hands up his wide arms and didn’t stop until they were combing and tugging through his hair. What I wanted to touch more, his hair or his body, had been a toss-up before. After doing both, I could confidently say neither had let me down. The debate was still out on which I preferred to touch though.

Moving my hands down the base of his neck, I continued toward the center of his back, tracing the deep seam that ran into his shorts. Jesse sighed against my neck when my hands repeated the motion. I didn’t know how he could sigh because I was one slide away from screaming out. Waking the house would be a really bad thing. For them and for us.

As soon as Jesse’s lips left my neck, my hands clutched the hem of my shirt and started sliding it up my stomach. I appreciated the whole gentleman thing he was keeping with, but the clothing was really starting to get in the way of things.

“Whoa,” Jesse said suddenly, his voice strained. “Easy, tiger. I’m about to go into cardiac arrest with your shirt on.” Jesse’s hands fitted over mine and moved them back down into my lap, shifting the shirt down at the same time. “Let’s leave it where it is, okay?”

If I woke up tomorrow speaking a different language, I don’t think I would have been more confused. “You don’t want to go any farther?” My voice was just as breathless as his. “You just want to kiss?” Surely I was misunderstanding something. As good as the kissing was, and believe me, it was the kind of thing people wrote songs about, even I wanted to go farther. My body felt like it needed to. It was programmed to do so.

“Well, I’d like to go farther, one day, but right now, I’m pretty damn happy just kissing you.” Jesse’s grin reappeared right before he pressed a soft kiss into my lips. “Although I wouldn’t say we’re ‘just kissing.’” Another soft kiss, slightly longer. “Would you?”

I shivered in his arms. “Whatever we’re doing, Jesse,” I said, still tasting him on my lips, “whatever this is . . . it’s definitely not ‘just kissing.’”

When his mouth covered mine again, it stayed there. When our mouths opened at the same time, my tongue touched his, and I realized there was nothing better than what we were doing. We were exploring each other, bit by tiny bit, and we were enjoying each and every touch and moment. It wasn’t what I was used to, not even close, but as our mouths, hands, and bodies tangled together, it seemed I was getting used to something new.

When I let myself just enjoy the moment and get over anticipating the next thing, I found “just” kissing a rather pleasurable experience. Especially when Jesse was doing the kissing. I’d kissed a lot of guys, but his kisses were a whole different thing. In fact, just kissing Jesse was more intimate than any sex I’d had with someone else. If I added all of those encounters up, their total wouldn’t have even come close to the intimacy I felt with Jesse’s mouth on mine. I’d never known a guy happy to just kiss and hold me close to him. Not since I was in the sixth grade.

Then again, I’d never known Jesse Walker until that summer.

Jesse must have slipped out of my bed and either back up the side of the chimney or out my bedroom door sometime before I woke up. It was a good thing he had, too, because a rapping on the other side of my door woke me up, followed by the youngest Walker bursting into my room before I invited her. Clementine, though, was always invited. Just as long as her big brother wasn’t sleeping next to me.

“Mornin’, Rowen!” she greeted, skipping into the room with her braids bouncing up and down. She saw I was still in bed and sleepy eyed. “Were you still asleep?”

I nodded and yawned. “Yep. I didn’t sleep very well last night.” After the night I’d had with Jesse, I didn’t care how little sleep I got or how tired I was. Last night was worth it. After making out to the point both our lips and hands were practically rubbed raw, he nestled beside me in bed, wrapped those strong arms around me, and we fell asleep together. Fully clothed. Even though we didn’t have sex, I’d never fallen asleep more satisfied and content in my whole life.

“You’ve got a silly smile on your face,” Clementine said, giggling as she pointed at me.

I was still smiling. That’s how great last night had been.

“Did you need something, squirt? Or were you just making sure I was awake?” I threw the covers off and headed for the dresser. I was about to open the first drawer when I remembered my dilemma from last night: I didn’t have any clean clothes.

That would make today challenging, if not impossible. I couldn’t very well whisk about the kitchen and the chicken coop in nothing but a white, oversized tee.

“Could I borrow that pretty purple scarf you wore last night?” she asked, coming up beside me and grabbing my hand. “Purple is the color of royalty, so if I’m wearing purple, everyone will know to bow when I walk by.”

The purple scarf was perhaps the only thing clean in my room. I grabbed it off the dresser and kneeled down beside Clementine. “Of course you can borrow it,” I said, winding it around her neck. “And if anyone doesn’t bow when you walk by, just wave your flamingo croquet mallet and say, ‘Off with his head.’”

Clementine’s face squished up on one side. The kid had no idea what I was talking about. She knew fairy tale princesses, but not Alice in Wonderland. I’d been the other way around at her age. Finally, she giggled again when I tickled her neck after tying the scarf into a pretty bow.

“You’re weird, Rowen,” she said, smiling up at me.

“Believe me. I know.” I patted her head, turned her around, and led her toward the door. I couldn’t solve my no-clean-clothing situation with a little girl bouncing around the room. “You know what? That scarf looks so good on you, I’m giving it to you. Okay?”

“What? Really?” If a seven-year-old could look more thrilled, I hadn’t seen it.

“Really, really,” I said as we got to the doorway. A gift bag with a black and white polka-dot ribbon tying the handles together sat just outside. “What’s this?”

Clementine shrugged. “I saw Jesse put it there early this morning when I was going to the bathroom. Then he walked away all quiet and quick.”

So Jesse had snuck out of my room, snuck back to drop the bag off, then snuck off to somewhere else. Not to mention when he’d snuck into my room last night. He’d done a lot of sneaking in twelve hours.

Once Clementine was bouncing down the stairs, I grabbed the bag and hurried back inside my room. I didn’t get presents often. Mom had resorted to pulling out her wallet and handing me a couple hundred dollar bills at breakfast on my birthday since I’d become a teenager. I wanted to take my time untying the ribbon and pulling out the tissue paper.

The moment my fingers tugged on one end of that ribbon though, that bow was untied and the tissue paper was flying. I could have cried when I saw what was inside.

Clothes. New with the tags on them and in my size. A few pairs of jeans that, knowing Jesse, would still hug my butt but hopefully not as bad as Lily’s had. A few tees in different colors, two airy button-up shirts with those pretty, pearly button snaps, and a pair of boots at the very bottom of the bag. Again, they were in my size, a Western style that wasn’t overt about it, and chocolate brown and lavender colored. They were functional for life on the ranch, but still round-toed, didn’t have a heel, and mid-calf like my trusty combat boots.