Bite Marks and Bruises
LAINEY
Later, in the shower, I gently run my fingertips over the bruise that’s already formed on my thigh.
My pulse skips. Body heats.
What. The fuck. Was that?!
My stomach flips for the five hundredth time when I replay the things Colton fucking Wallace did back in the barn. The things he made me feel.
Leaning my forehead on the tiled wall, I let the water course over my head and down my shoulders and back. I’m exhausted.
I hate myself for giving in. For letting him rile me up like that. The second he mentioned the handcuffs, I should’ve bolted.
Instead, I ended up masturbating in front of him before letting him come on my stomach. Honestly, what is wrong with me?
It started innocently enough. After spending this much time on the ranch, I got the itch to be in the saddle.
I figured I’d give it a try without the horse—the cowboys keep their saddles on these wooden rack things, and that seemed relatively safe.
I could do it alone, when nobody was around. I had Nash’s videos as a guide too.
So I grabbed my phone and headed to the barn. Little did I know I would run into Colton. I could tell something was up. He had this agitated energy about him, like he was on the edge.
And there I was, all too eager to push him right over.
He shocked the shit out of me by cleaning me up when we were done with a fresh towel he found somewhere. Then he disappeared. But the hunger in his eyes—
It still haunts me.
What’s his story? Why is he so hell-bent on hating what I do?
Get a life, Lainey. Stop thinking about that douche canoe already. He literally bit you, for crying out loud. What kind of man bites people like that?
I get in my pajamas and blow-dry my hair. That’s when the idea hits.
Ulysses. Uma.
U and U. Two u’s.
Double u’s. My stomach drops.
Double U. W. That’s D-o-u-b-l-e-u spelled out.
Turning off the blow-dryer, I sprint for my notebook and write it all down.
I drop my pencil. “Oh my God, that’s it. Double U Ranch. Oh my God!”
Go figure, I can actually be clever upon occasion.
I may feel more than a little defeated over the fact that I don’t know what’s next for me.
I know my parents are disappointed that I haven’t landed a “real” job yet.
But at the very least, I can delight myself every once in a while. Right now, that feels like a win.
I wonder if what just went down in the barn has anything to do with this sudden burst of creativity. After having that conversation with my mom, my mojo had been totally in the shitter. Coming up with ideas felt like pulling teeth.
But all of a sudden, the creative juices are flowing. Even if I still feel a stab of self-hatred for letting my guard down like that.
Holy shit, does Colton have a magic dick?
I didn’t even touch it, and yet its powers are already at work. I wanted to touch it, don’t get me wrong. His cock really is beautiful.
It’s the kind of cock dreams are made of. I wonder if he’ll let me see it again. Touch it.
Taste it.
My God. I’m in trouble.
I’m working on my presentation deck the following week on a quiet Sunday morning when there’s a knock on my door.
My stomach dips in a way that’s quickly becoming familiar. I have no idea who it could be. Obviously I hope it’s Colton.
Wait, why do you hope it’s Colton? You hate him.
I didn’t expect to hear anything from him. We don’t have each other’s numbers or anything. But I’ve run into him even less than usual since the Barn Incident (capitalization my own), which makes me think he’s trying extra hard to avoid me.
Not like I care. Just feels like a ridiculous waste of energy on his part.
Be honest. You want it to happen again. The hate sex. Hate hookup. Whatever that was.
Shoving the thought from my head, I leap out of my chair. I don’t bother closing my laptop. Instead, I check my reflection in the mirror, giving my hair a quick fluff before loping down the stairs.
I open the door, and the air promptly leaves my lungs when I see a horse.
Correction: There are three horses. There are also two cowboys, one hanging out behind the other so I can’t see him. The one I can see sits astride his horse with an authority that makes me short of breath.
The third horse wears a saddle but doesn’t have a rider.
My vital organs dissolve inside my skin, turning my body into one giant heartbeat when I look up and see Colton sitting on his gigantic horse.
His wrists are crossed over the pommel of the saddle. His sleeves are rolled up, revealing thick, veiny forearms that legitimately bring a tear to my eye.
Or maybe that’s just the ardent morning sunshine that slants into my apartment. I wouldn’t say the air is crisp yet, but it is a little cooler. The sky is spotless.
It’s going to be a beautiful day.
Colton touches his gloved fingertips to the brim of his hat. “Mornin’, Dallas.”
I hold a hand up to my forehead against the sun. His handsomeness hits me like a baseball bat to the backs of my knees. How is he doing this? Greeting me casually, like we didn’t do filthy things together that still make me blush and want to die?
“Uh.” My brain is not functioning. “Hi. Hello? Hi.”
“You busy?” he asks.
My stomach bottoms out. “Depends who’s asking.”
“I am!” a little voice chirps up, and that’s when I realize the cowboy behind Colton is none other than his son, Dean Wallace.
“Please please please come for a ride with us. I got sick last week but now I’m better, so we can finally ride together, Miss Lainey.
My dad says we can teach you how to do it because we’re experts. ”
I bet your dad said that.
And I bet he meant it in exactly that way I think he did.
Judging by the playful gleam in Colton’s eyes, he was definitely being a perv.
I notice he’s not growling today, however. And the angst I saw in him at the barn seems to have disappeared.
“Hey, Dean!” I give him a wave. “I didn’t see you back there. How’s it going?”
“Great. But I’d be better if you said yes.”
Laughing, I feel heat rush to my face. “You’re a persistent little dude, aren’t you?”
“Yup.” He grins.
I glance at Colton. He’s not being mean today, but I can’t tell if he’s just keeping himself in check around his son or if he really does want me to come riding with them.
“A cow almost kicked me today,” Dean says. “But I didn’t let him.”
“Thank goodness for that. But I’d hate to hold y’all back. If you were planning to go for a ride without me—”
“Aw, c’mon, Lainey. It’s gonna be so fun. It’s easy, I promise,” Dean replies. “I bet you can keep up with us.”
Laughing, I try to tuck my other hand into the front pocket of my jeans. Only I’m not wearing jeans, so I end up awkwardly coasting my palm down the side of my sweatpants.
Smooth.
I look at Colton and wait for him to chime in. We wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want you to join us, he could say. Or, Hey, we’re still enemies, but I’m willing to play nice.
He doesn’t, of course. Just looks at me, his eyes moving slowly up and down my body. A spark of heat ignites in my center. I ignore it.
Try to at least.
“Da-ad,” Dean says. “Tell Lainey it’s okay if she comes with us.”
Colton blinks, shaking his head a little like he’s waking up from a trance. “Lainey, it’s okay if you come with us.” The timbre of his voice—the familiarity of it—sends a tingle down my spine. “So come.”
You look so pretty when you come.
“Yes,” I blurt. “I’d love to.”
I tell myself I’m saying yes for Dean. He’s cute as a button and a true delight to be around. Agreeing to go for a ride with him has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that his father will be with us too.
That’s how, a few minutes later, I end up with a helmet on my head—Dean’s wearing one too—with Colton crouching between me and a horse they named Cream Puff, his hands clasped in a cradle-like position a foot or so off the ground.
“He’s the nicest horse we have right now,” Dean explains. “That’s why we picked that name. We thought you’d like him because you’re nice too.”
“Thanks for that.” I look back down at Colton. “But what if I fall?”
Colton’s lips twitch. “You know I’m not gonna let that happen. Now put your foot in my hands, and I’ll do the rest, yeah? On the count of three, I’ll give you a lift up, and then you swing your other leg over the horse.”
Cream Puff lazily turns his giant head to look at us. He’s got white and tan spots with a dark mane, and his inquisitive eyes are light brown, the color of honey.
Or maybe I’m just thinking about honey because that’s what Colton called me. I despise him for doing that.
I also came very, very hard. Ugh.
“You make it sound so easy,” I say.
Colton squints. “That’s ’cause it is.”
Ah, the asshole in him is alive and well.
But that hot squint almost distracts me from the very real terror pumping through my veins. I pluck at my sweatshirt in an attempt to get some air flowing. I’m too hot.
I put my left foot in his hands and prepare to hook the other over the saddle.
Looking down, I realize how close Colton is.
Close enough that his face is practically in my butt. Or the side of it anyway.
Dear Lord, please let my ass look cute in these sweats. Then again, does anyone’s ass look cute in sweats?
Colton’s eyes are piercing when they meet mine. “On the count of three, I’m gonna lift ya. Push off the ground with your other foot. Ready?”
“No. But also yes?”
“I need a straight yes, Dallas.”
Why do I feel like he’s not talking about mounting the horse? “Yes.”
“There we go.” Then he looks away and starts counting off way too quickly. Next thing I know, he’s pushing my left leg upright and I’m trying to toss my right leg over the curve of the saddle.
My stomach lurches as I fly upward. I somehow manage to swing my leg over the horse, and then—
Holy God, I’m actually sitting in the saddle, and I’m not falling off this time.
I feel very high up as Colton hooks my feet into the stirrups. His hands linger half a beat too long on my calves, and the heat of his touch spreads up my legs and gathers low in my core.