Change Rein - Anne Jolin Page 0,33
Will it stop me from giving her what she wants? Not a chance in hell.
Tipping my invisible cowboy hat towards her with one hand, I put the other in the hair at the base of her neck. “Nothing you ask will ever be too much, London.” With that, I give in to the greatest temptation I’ve ever had and every desire I’ve ever dreamed of.
It’s only with unique restraint that I’m able to keep my lips from fully crashing down onto hers. Instead, I take her softly, certain I’ve died and gone to heaven at the first taste of her. When she whimpers, the greed in me takes the opportunity to slip my tongue into her mouth, claiming all she’ll give me. Her hands pull at the base of my neck, desperate to have me closer as the heat in our kiss grows deeper as the song comes to a close.
After breaking apart, I rest my forehead on hers, running my thumb across her bottom lip. Then I sing the very last line, holding her close.
I kissed the prettiest girl I’ve every laid eyes on while dancing on the tailgate of my truck in the middle of nowhere, and it was the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
Guaranteed.
“DOES THIS LOOK OKAY?” I ask anxiously.
Flopping over onto her stomach, Aurora rolls her eyes in exasperation. “Yes. That one looks gorgeous. So did the other twelve outfits you put on in the last hour. This is like fashion torture. What gives?”
“I’m meeting his parents.” I scowl at my reflection, pulling at the fabric around my midsection in disgust. “I’m a whale in this.”
Chucking a pillow, which I’m sure was aimed for me but missed by a mile, my sister scoffs. “First off, it’s not even physically possible for you to look like a whale.” She smirks. “You don’t have a tail and you’re a terrible swimmer, so don’t be ridiculous.”
“Smartass.”
“Secondly, his parents aren’t going to care if you wear the mint dress or the red romper or that”—she gestures to the dress I have on—“thing.” After a short pause, she says, “Actually, in better judgment, maybe don’t wear that one. It screams country bumpkin to me.”
After swiveling around, I rest my hand on my hip. “We are country bumpkins, you loon.”
“Nonetheless.” She flops back onto her bed, picking up the magazine she was reading and officially ending the discussion on my floral maxi dress.
It’s been five weeks and countless dates since we met, and although the time as flown by, it all still feels like yesterday. Although the intensity of our relationship only continues to grow, the pace in which the stages of our relationship progresses is slow and steady. We spent the afternoons he was off early washing the horses or sitting out in the pasture while they grazed, our conversation never seeming to lull. At night, we always danced, listened to music, and sometimes saw movies.
He’s every woman’s dream, but he’s my reality.
Despite his ridiculously handsome face, I find myself lost in his mind and his heart more often. We had a formal dinner with my family last week, although that seemed far less intimidating, given that we were both used to seeing them together on a daily basis. Well, it was at least less intimidating until the end, when Daddy threatened him with his guns, but Branson took it in stride. And truthfully, I think they’re both rather fond of each other.
“Are you guys going to do it?” Aurora asks.
Snapping out of my daze, I gape at her through the mirror.
“Oh, don’t look at me like that. The air surrounding you two is so thick with sexual tension that it’s like the humidity in Hawaii,” she says. “My hair goes to hell in a hand basket every time y’all are around.”
“Uhh . . .” I don’t know what to say.
The thought did cross my mind, especially as I packed the overnight bag I’d be bringing with me. Branson’s family lived in Coal Hill, an hour’s drive on the opposite side of Edmonton. It was far too long for an evening. So he declared we’d be having our first sleepover. I was worried I’d either rip his clothes off before we made it inside or freeze in place from having forgotten how exactly one ‘does it.’
It’s been awhile.
“You haven’t forgotten,” Aurora says as if reading my mind while gazing at her magazine. “It’s just like riding a bike.”
I know for a fact that my baby sister is still a