The Front Runner (Gold Rush Ranch, #3)

by Elsie Silver

“Whatever you say,” he replies smoothly. “I just can’t fall in love with you, right?” I chuckle as I twist the doorknob to leave. “Oh, Stefan. I think you already are.”

“Eyes up here, Dr. Thorne,” he coos with a knowing smile.

The sight of it stirs some instinctual part of me, and all I want to do is take care of her. Make sure she’s comfortable. That she rests for a while.

I just don’t want you to think my soul is black. It had been a joke when she said it, but I’d let it bug me anyway. I’m inexplicably concerned with what this woman thinks of me.

Was he a cocky prick? Yes. But was he also charming and sensitive? Also yes.

Maybe if you beg. Ha. That’ll be the day. Mira You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Stefan Absolutely.

“Trust me, Dr. Thorne, if I had you up against a wall, you’d be the meal.”

I’ve been avoiding Mira this week, and I’m quite certain she’s been doing the same. The tension between us is thick enough to cut with a knife, and I don’t think either one of us has figured out what to do with that just yet. I should let her out of the remaining two dates. A better man would. But I’m greedy. I want to prove to her I’m not the evil dick they’ve made me out to be.

Mira works with her hands, and I can feel the proof. I can feel everything.

But this time, she sits close enough that our shoulders graze against each other. And after a few beats, she reaches for my hand again.

“You are not the pawn, Mira. You are the prize.”

Shaking my head, I marvel at how the more confused she is about me, the less I am about her.

“Do you trust me?” She leans back in her seat and looks out the window. She doesn’t make a move to withdraw my hand, but she goes quiet for an extended period. If I wasn’t listening carefully, if I wasn’t hanging on her every breath, I might not have heard her say, “I think I do.”

This isn’t one for the record books. This is the record book.

He looks up just in time to catch me gawking, his eyes glowing in the most captivating way. “You are beautiful, Mira.”

“I’ve got it.” With two long steps Stefan is right in front of me, one knee down and reaching for the strap. The sight of him kneeling before me unexpectedly takes my breath away. His warm hand wraps around my ankle, and I shiver. His movement pauses, but his head stays down. I watch his fingers move deftly, gently tucking the strap back through the gold buckle. When it’s back in place, he continues holding my ankle like he’s entranced by the sight of my dark red toenail polish.

Something between us just shifted. I just can’t tell for the life of me what it is or what it means. All I know is that I wanted his hand on my leg to keep going. I wanted his lips on my skin.

“Absolutely nothing about the way I feel for you is a joke. And I’ll keep telling you that until you believe me.”

“It’s a shame I’m not allowed to kiss you anymore. Because you look positively edible right now, Mira.” With one quick grab, her fingers twist into my dress shirt, and she yanks me toward her. Free hand wrapped around the back of my neck, she pulls my face to hers and kisses me with so much longing that my stomach drops.

“Do you remember what I said I was going to do to you if I had you up against a wall, Dr. Thorne?” “What?” Her voice is pure lust, almost slurred. “I told you that you’d be the meal.”

When Mira catches me staring at the sky, her head tips back, and I watch the ethereal shadows play across her features. “Beautiful,” she murmurs. “Very,” I say back. Except, I’m not looking at the sky anymore. I’m looking at her, visually tracing the elegant slope of her throat. Her deep eyes, her full lips, and glowing skin. She’s downright enchanting.

I know she’s worth it.

And with that, he winks and disappears beneath the covers.

But when I close my lids, all I see is Stefan and his beautiful green eyes. My new favorite color.

“Jesus Christ,” I pant as he slides it home. The vibrations rattle through my core, and my legs shake. The visual of him between my legs, completely engrossed—entranced—is more than I can take. “No, Mira. It’s just me.”

I’m playing for keeps.

Boys of tommen brain rot is hitting me rn

“You were made for me.”

“Take it like a good girl, Miss Thorne,” he says, before his control snaps completely and his voice becomes a harsh growl. “Every. Inch.”

I watch the outline of her body shrink into the dark as I drive away and realize protecting myself is something I’ve already failed to do, considering I just admitted I’m in love with her.

All I know is I need her. I need to tell her I love her.

And then the doors close, and it’s just us. I grip her hand and drop my head to my chest. I need it to be us forever.

“I love you.” Our lips meet in a soul-searing kiss, the perfect fit, and he says it a third time. “I love you.” And nothing in my life has ever felt more real. I love him. I love him. I love him.

A better man would have let her out of our arrangement. I am not a better man. And I’ve never felt less sorry about anything in my life.