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“Where would you like me to bunk?” he asked her, holding her gaze. Once again, her cheeks flamed pink. Why? Kyle knew there was a bunkhouse for wranglers near the main ranch house. He found himself resisting going there because he wanted to remain close to Anna in case she needed help. If nothing else, he could at least support and assist her if necessary. It ate at his sensitized conscience that he would be here for only a month.
“You can have the guest bedroom down the hall.” She gestured gracefully toward that direction. “If that’s okay with you?”
Okay? Hell, it was perfect. And already, Kyle was plotting and planning when he could kiss Anna, feel her lush lips blossom beneath his onslaught, feel her heat combine with his. Because when they kissed, the real world went away and only the two of them existed in that exquisite, heated moment. And damn, he wanted to take her to bed, love her gently, love her until he would hear those beautiful sounds caught in her throat, feel her convulse around him.
Was it all a dream? Kyle was a realist. He knew from past experience Anna would refuse to go to bed with him ever again. Because if she did, Kyle knew she would agree to whatever he wanted from her. And the Montana woman, the pragmatist, knew better. She would not sell her heart for one night in his arms. Or even thirty nights. It had to be forever or not at all.
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