Montana Rescue (The Wildes of Birch Bay Book 2) by Kim Law

smelled like baby powder. “I had an amazing time,” he murmured. He watched her as he began to nip along her forearm, noting that she wasn’t immune to his touch. A renewed flare of heat began to burn behind her eyes. He liked that.
    He worked his way toward her inner elbow, enjoying the slide of smooth skin beneath his lips. He hadn’t brought it up, but he also had a second condom tucked away in his wallet.
    “I hope it was fun for you, too,” he said. He tugged at the sheet she’d pulled up over her, inching it down just enough to expose the top curves of her breasts. He hadn’t had nearly enough time exploring those.
    He gave one more tug, and one dusty-rose nipple popped free. His mouth watered.
    “I definitely had fun,” she agreed. Her gaze swept down to his mouth. “But . . .”
    He froze. He hated that word. “But what?”
    She paused for a second, her eyes steady on his, as if trying to decide whether to say what was on her mind or not. Then she glanced toward the door, and he got it.
    “But you want me to go?” He sighed.
    She offered a tight smile. “Will you hate me if I say yes?”
    “Of course not.”
    He didn’t waste any time rising and reaching for his jeans. He’d been right before. He shouldn’t have shown up there tonight. Sex hadn’t been what she’d needed. He’d known that. Hadn’t he told himself that very thing with every step he’d made from his room to hers?
    He could kick himself for forgetting. However, no judge, whether moral or judicial, would find him guilty for sticking around after she’d come out of her bathroom the way she had.
    He fastened his jeans and took a moment longer than necessary to shrug into his shirt. He didn’t look at her as he dressed; he needed to get his thoughts together first. He wasn’t mad—he’d never be mad because a woman asked him to leave. But he was disappointed. Mostly in himself. He shouldn’t have let this go so far.
    But he was also asking himself: What the hell?

    As the last whirl of the helicopter blades came to a stop, Harper found herself going as motionless as everything around her. She’d just arrived home after dropping the corporate execs back at the Missoula airport. And though there were still several hours of daylight ahead of her, she had no additional flights scheduled, nor did she want any.
    What she wanted was to crawl into her own bed and forget. Or maybe relive.
    Sex with Nick had been off the charts.
    Only . . . she’d had sex with Nick .
    The thoughts were conflicting, and each had been battling to be heard since she’d kicked him out of her motel room Friday night.
    She’d managed to make it all the way through Saturday without getting caught alone with him, then she and Jewel had driven back immediately after the last bull-riding event. Harper had stayed over at Jewel’s last night, both because they’d gotten in so late and because Jewel had once again been sick. Yet through every minute that had passed the remainder of the weekend, even with everything she’d had going on, her head had continuously carried out the fight.
    Sex with Nick had been off the charts.
    She’d had sex with Nick .
    Was she supposed to be thrilled or feel guilty? And if guilty . . . should it be directed toward Thomas? Or Nick? Or herself?
    She suddenly felt antsy and forced herself to exit the aircraft and head toward her house. She was on the back side of her property, land spread out in every direction, with her enormous two-story home sitting directly in front of her. Thomas had not only taken a chunk of his trust the minute he’d gained full access to it and bought them a souped-up helicopter, but he’d also had a huge house built for them. He’d even poured a helicopter pad in their backyard. They’d had everything they would ever need here.
    She focused straight ahead as she kept her feet moving. She lived on the west side of the lake, and the property sat high enough that even though she was several