Anything #2
He makes a sound against my mouth—half groan, half something vulnerable—and his arms tighten around my waist, lifting me slightly so we’re perfectly aligned. “Missed you so much,” he whispers against my lips, voice raw with the same despair I’ve kept dormant out of need to survive the distance .
“Missed you too,” I breathe, brushing our noses together. “But maybe take these off before you drown?”
Together we peel the sodden clothes from his body, his t-shirt landing with a wet slap on the bathroom floor, his jeans requiring both of us tugging and cursing as they stick to his legs.
His boots are the worst, involving him bracing against the wall while I kneel to wrestle them off his feet, both of us dissolving into the kind of laughter that only happens when you’re so happy you could burst with it.
And then we’re both naked. Skin to skin under the warm spray as the laughter shifts into something passionate that no text or voice or video call could ever replicate—and God, did we try.
His hands map my body like he’s relearning every contour, making sure nothing has changed places since last he touched it, every sensitive spot that makes my breath catch.
His mouth follows, trailing fire across my collarbone, the hollow of my throat.
Then down, tongue on a nipple, thumb on the other.
I melt and moan against him, clawing his back, his scalp. “Please,” I tell him.
Instantly, one hand drops to grip my thigh and lift my knee up, hooked on his forearm. The lube is in the shower caddy. I reach for it; he’s faster. He works me open, mouth never leaving mine, swallowing every gasp and whimper he yanks out of me with his fingers alone.
Then he slips them out, spins me around, my back to his chest, rough and hungry and arching my spine as he wishes, and fuck, my dick is so hard every drop from the shower tilts me over the edge.
His arms encircle me—one around my waist, clamping my arm between us, the other around my neck in the way he knows blocks just enough of my air.
My free hand finds his hair, grabs a fistful but doesn’t pull—not yet, not until he’s growling in my ear.
He pushes inside me with a groan. And it stings, and it burns.
And it exalts. And it elates.
And my eyes roll away, and my legs shake and give because I don’t need my body anymore. It’s his. Let him take it and bring it back later.
Each thrust shoves a thought out of my mind, each grunt commands a nerve ending to flare. His heat is solid—against me, inside me—his breaths physical blows that crack my neck so my head falls back against his shoulder.
Our eyes lock. There as I breathe harder, there as I whimper on the edge. There on the apex, ordering me to jump.
So I do. Coming with his name on whatever else is left of me.
His rhythm turns frantic, each thrust harder and deeper and louder. That’s when I pull his hair, with that precise pressure only I know how to gauge, until he buries himself completely, his whole body going taut against mine.
We stay like that, connected and breathless, as the water continues to pour over us.
His arms loosen slightly but don’t let go, his lips pressing soft kisses to my shoulder, my neck, the sensitive spot behind my ear that makes me shiver.
Slowly, carefully, he slips out, and we disentangle just enough to face each other again.
The cleanup is unhurried, hands gentle as we wash each other, trading lazy kisses and soft touches that promise more later.
When we finally decide we’ve wasted enough water, we towel off and he carries me to the bed, princess style, as I nuzzle his temple.
We collapse onto the mattress, limbs tangling together.
I’d fall asleep just like this, but I refuse. It’s been too long, so I just want to cuddle and talk and be stupidly in love together, in the same place, at the same time.
He, for sure, feels the same because he asks me about the events I’ve been on and how Ruin behaved, questions specific enough that my mind wakes up and keeps up.
I answer them all as he watches me with this half-smile that makes my chest ache, like he’s not just hearing the words but drinking in the fact that I’m actually here, in his bed, rambling about a round that probably sounds like every other round to anyone who isn’t us.
“So then Ruin just powers through the oxer like it’s nothing,” I tell him, “but I can feel him gathering too much for the combination after. You know how he gets once he commits.”
“All in.”
“And then some.” I gesture with my free hand, mimicking the explosive jump. “So I’m trying to half-halt him before we get there, but he’s already decided he’s going to clear it or kill us trying.”
Eli chuckles, the sound vibrating through the mattress where our bodies touch. “Sounds about right.”
“Judges loved it, though. Showjumping should have style points too, for real. I swear one of them actually clapped when we landed.” I run my fingers through Eli’s damp hair, circling it behind his ear.
“I keep telling myself that if I’d ridden it perfectly, if I’d gotten that half-halt and kept his stride more contained, we might not have cleared it at all.
Sometimes his excessiveness is exactly what works. ”
“Applied chaos theory,” Eli murmurs, fingertips tracing lazy patterns on my bare skin, circling back again and again to the heart tattooed on my wrist—lopsided, exactly how he drew it.
“Each jump is too sensitive to its initial conditions, so you’re learning to trust the unpredictable.
‘Cause you got the skill to adjust to the outcome.”
I grin at my gorgeous nerd. “Is that your professional assessment, Dr. Navarro?”
“Mmm.” His eyes crinkle at the corners, sleep-soft and fond. “That, and you’ve got the most beautiful seat I’ve ever seen. ”
“Such a romantic,” I tease, but I can feel my cheeks warming. Even now, his compliments hit differently—like I trust him implicitly, so whatever he says, I know it’s the most absolute truth, that he wouldn’t say it just to woo me or anything.
Which has always been true. It’s just clearer from this new perspective, outside the skeleton frame I was when I first met him, when my life consisted only of its most basal elements, completely bare-bones.
With love here in my vantage point, expanding and growing, not out there, lost among the mess, just waiting for me to notice it’s alive.
Oh, that reminds me.
“Hey, what’s this new construction just outside the deckhouse?” I ask. “Need a new building for something?”
Eli’s entire demeanor shifts, from soft and comfy into a flash of brightness and eagerness he tries but fails to school into simply casual interest. “Oh, that.” He sits up, towel pooling around his waist. “Wanna see it?”
“Now?” I glance toward the window. Dusk is already settling over the ranch.
“Now.” He’s already climbing out of bed, rummaging through the dresser for clean clothes. “Put something on.”
I raise an eyebrow but comply, curiosity piqued by the barely contained excitement radiating from him. I pull on some sweatpants and one of his t-shirts—yes, I have clean ones of my own, and no, I won’t take questions.
Outside, the evening air has cooled, shades of pink and orange and purple painting the sky over the mountain top.
Eli takes my hand as we walk, our fingers slipping together in a way that would feel less natural not to do.
We exit the courtyard and circle back around to its side, closer to the gate leading to Momma’s.
It’s much larger than it seemed from a distance.
The framing is well underway—walls marked out, roof trusses lying ready nearby.
It’s not a small building, whatever it is.
Definitely not just a storage shed or additional stall space.
It wouldn’t make much sense here, anyway, behind the residential area.
Eli leads me up the wide steps and deck through what will eventually be a doorway, into the future insides of the structure.
The last of the sunset filters through the open framing, casting long shadows across the plywood subfloor.
Construction equipment lies neatly organized in a corner, covered with tarps for the night.
“Kitchen’s gonna be here,” Eli says, gesturing to a space near what looks like plumbing rough-ins.
“Big island in the middle, open dining area right next.” He moves a few steps, pulling me along, pointing.
“Living room here. Fireplace on that wall, next to the bay window looking out toward the paddocks. Sunsets gonna be magical. Oh, and rooms upstairs.”
I follow him, trying to visualize it. It’s a house, clearly—spacious but not outrageously so. Practical, like everything else in Riverlight.
“Looks great,” I say, eyes strolling along every future wall to take it all in. “You’re bringing Momma closer then? Hers is about this size, isn’t it?” Maybe this one’s a bit bigger? Can’t really tell.
His expression shifts—his eyes, his smile—going deeper but yet, somehow, bigger and brighter at the same time. “Ain’t for Momma,” he says quietly. “It’s for you.”
For me?
“For us,” he adds. “Space and privacy, like you said.”
A house…for us?
With a kitchen and an island? And magical sunsets and a fireplace overlooking the paddocks?
And rooms? Rooms, plural?
He wants a…a plural , with me ?
“You’re… You’re building us a…house?” My voice comes out in chunks, so much smaller than I intended, but… A house? I never had a house before—none that I was old enough to remember, at least. Just hotel after hotel with a few ranches in between, but nothing of my own.
Riverlight already felt like home. But he doesn’t want me to just feel it. He wants me to see it. Touch it, have it. Hold its keys in my hand, call it mine.
Ours. Because I don’t want it if it’s not ours.
Eli’s hand tightens around mine, his eyes scanning my face while the brightness starts to dull and the depth sidesteps into darkness.
“Should’ve told you before,” he says quickly.
“Or waited ‘til ya got back so we could plan it together. Just thought… I mean, with all the travel, and the competitions, and…” He runs his free hand through his hair, glancing around nervously, like he can’t believe he did all this without asking me.
“We can change anything. All of it. Or stop completely if this ain’t what you want. ”
I silence him with a kiss because that’s usually the fastest way to shut up his insecurities.
When I pull back, I’m smiling so hard my cheeks hurt.
“It’s perfect,” I tell him, meaning it with every cell in my body, every fiber in the fabric of my soul.
“You’re perfect. I love it. I love you so much. ”
Relief washes over him, the tension visibly lifting from his shoulders. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I look around again, holding tighter onto his hand and wiping away a tear about to drop. It’s beautiful. It’ll be so beautiful. Anything with him will. “When did you even plan this?”
“In my head or on paper?” He chuckles. “Got the contractor here day after you left.” His voice drops lower, almost shy. “Ran it by Rey first, make sure it wasn’t too soon. She laughed at me. For a whole week.”
Of course she did. Rey probably knew we were inevitable before we did.
That’s on paper, though. “And in your head?”
He shrugs, smiling softly. “Probably when you told me black is my color.”
I frown, glancing up, trying to remember. “When did I say that?”
His head shakes slightly, like it’s not too important.
“Just the other day,” he says, gently turning me, settling me against himself.
I sigh, guiding his arms around my waist, leaning into his chest as we survey what will become our living room.
The last lights slant through the frame of a future window, and those sunsets will indeed be magical.
I can see it already—furniture, rugs, books. Life.
“Can we put the kids’ letters there?” I ask, pointing to the widest expanse of living room wall. “I want to see them from the bay window. We’re putting a window seat there, right? We gotta.”
“Anything you want. All the letters.” I feel his smile against my neck as he kisses the spot below my ear. “And room for more.”