28
I wake to dull sunlight slowly creeping in through the windows. My heart pounds out a lazy rhythm. My body’s relaxed and damn content. I feel fucking alive for the first time in a year. All because of her.
I roll over on the bed, wishing I could freeze-frame this moment in time.
The sight of Fallon, beside me, is an instant hit of dopamine for all my senses.
Sprawled naked in the tangled sheets, sunlight kisses her beautiful body.
Her caramel-blonde hair’s a wild halo around her that I ache to run my fingers through.
Perfect. So goddamn right I can barely breathe.
I sit upright and run a hand over her toned, tattooed thigh.
There’s no girl like this in the world, so she must be my girl.
My girl.
That’s what she is. After last night, no fucking mistake about it.
Fallon’s back. Even in sleep, her stunning face is fierce, defiant.
I reach for her, tracing a finger along the high arch of her cheekbone.
As if reminding myself last night wasn’t a fever dream.
Even if it felt like it. Fallon’s pleading whispers, her heat, drenched for me and me alone.
Hell, my brain’s still reeling from the overload of information. We both dropped so many bombs, I don’t know where to begin. But it doesn’t matter. What matters is that first kiss. Fallon’s forgiveness.
I give her one last look then climb out of bed to find a pair of underwear and drag them on. After settling Fallon’s walker close to the bed, I head to the kitchen to make coffee.
When I return to the room, I find Fallon sitting up in bed. She’s curled up against the pillows, covered in the sheets, phone in her hand. She studies me with an emotionless expression.
“How do you feel?” I ask, crossing the room to hand her my cup of coffee. I sit beside her.
She sets her phone on the nightstand. “Tired. Sore.” A coy smile curls her lips. Aims straight for my heart. “Well fucked.”
Pride fills my chest. Then, because I’m a fucking goner, I ask, “Are you okay with what we did last night?” My voice is a rasp. I’m desperate for Fallon, but I can’t fucking help it. I’ve loved her this long. Won’t stop now.
Her face softens. “No regrets.” That softness changes to a strange hesitation. She takes a small sip of coffee. “For either of us, right?”
“Right.”
Eyes downcast, Fallon scoots to the edge of the bed, putting her mug on the nightstand.
“Hey, we’re not done.” I catch her wrist and pull her onto my lap.
“Ugh,” she says, shoving at my arm. “We’re not cuddling.”
I smother a smile as she doesn’t quite extricate herself from my hold.
When she settles back against my chest, I let out a breath. Sheer instinct with this woman. To pull her into my arms and keep her there. I caress a hand over the soft curve of her ass. “I want to talk to you. About last night.”
She sighs. “Wy, I just said, no regrets .”
“Not about that. About what I said back then.” I’m still not over it. Still fucking pissed as hell at myself for what I said. That I hurt her.
She eyes me warily.
“I mean it, Fallon, I gotta do something else to make it right, you tell me.” I don’t let her out of my gaze.
I need her to believe me that I never meant it; but also that I’m sorry.
That I will crawl over broken glass if it makes her happy.
That I will take away all her doubts about us.
That she can trust me with her heart and body and soul.
“I will.” She palms my cheek, her fingers warm against my skin. “I didn’t know—”
“Know what?”
She frowns, working through her brick-wall emotions, then says, “How much it meant. You apologizing. That you don’t believe that about me. At least not anymore.”
I squeeze her tighter. “Never.”
She pulls back to look at me. “We’re good. I promise.”
I believe her.
“Thank Christ,” I growl, gripping the back of her neck and angling her pouty lips to mine. A bolt of relief slices through me when she returns the kiss. Wet and warm. Sweet and soft. She whimpers as she loops her slender arms around my neck.
She still wants this. Thank fuck.
When we come up for air, a rosy flush tinges Fallon’s cheeks pink.
“One more thing,” I tell her.
She squirms, rebellion in her eyes. Intending to avoid this. Avoid us. “What?”
“Don’t shut me out.” No more distance between us. Not after last night.
“Okay.” She bites her lower lip. “I’ll try.”
It’s not a promise, but I’ll take it.
With that, I stand, setting Fallon down gently on the floor.
“I want you to take it easy today.” I yank on jeans while Fallon pulls on a blue silk robe.
“Whatever,” she says, sounding disgruntled.
The dangerous narrowing of her eyes tells me she’s not ready to be bossed around. At least not anymore.
I pick up a T-shirt, smell it, then shove my head through it. “I gotta do laundry.”
She shrugs one shoulder, face impassive. “I can toss a load in today, if you want.”
It’s domestic as fuck, but hell, I’m living for this.
Marriage. This is what it could be. Me and Fallon. A couple. Coming home to each other then fucking each other into oblivion every damn night. That’s what life’s all about, ain’t it? Strong whiskey and lovin’ a good woman?
Suddenly, it’s all I want in the world.
Fallon’s phone pings. She limps back to the nightstand and checks it. I don’t miss the slight furrow of her brow. She’s worried.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
She shakes her head then, as if remembering what she said mere seconds ago, sighs. “Someone’s been sending me DMs.”
The air around me crackles, stills.
“Who?”
“Not sure.” She sinks her teeth into her lush lower lip. “They started a few weeks before the Rock ’n Ride.”
“Goddamn it, Fallon.” I heave a sigh of frustration and needle my brow. “Why are you only tellin’ me this now?”
She jerks her shoulders in a shrug. “They’re harmless.”
“I’ll be the fucking judge of that.” In one swift motion, I snatch her phone.
“Excuse you,” she snaps and slams a hand against my chest.
I ignore her and scroll through the DMs. The account looks like a troll account with its shitty name. But the messages chill my blood, lock my body tight.
You ride, you’ll regret it.
I told you this would happen.
Stay away from the rodeo.
Unease settles in my gut. First the roses, now these cryptic-as-fuck DMs. Someone’s sending this to fuck with her. But who? And why? And another thought that has me losing it, what if it wasn’t an accident?
That’s when I see the video. My hands clench around her phone. The motherfucker sent her the video of her accident. Reliving it, seeing Fallon screaming for me on that dusty arena floor is not something I’m prepared for. Just the thought has my heart gulping air.
I blow out an angry breath. “You been watchin’ this?”
“Just every damn day.” She paces, limps to her walker.
“There’s something I’m missing. I just don’t know what.
I keep thinking, and dreaming, and—” Her voice hitches, her face clouds.
She’s worked up. Now I’m pissed. Pissed she’s been holding on to this for as long as she has.
Pissed she didn’t come to me. Pissed there’s one more secret between us.
“We should tell Davis.” If anyone can figure it out, he can.
“No way,” she argues. “I’m not worried about it. He shouldn’t be either.” Her face softens. “Davis and Dakota have enough going on.”
I blow out a breath, hating that she’s right. With the end of the season approaching, Davis has been busy with contractors and SAR work. He doesn’t need one more thing on his plate.
Grudgingly, I hand her back her phone. Don’t miss the shakiness in her hands as she takes it. “You tell me if you get another one.”
She smirks at my irritation. “Relax, Wyatt.”
There’s no relaxing. Not when it comes to Fallon. I step forward, needing her in my arms to calm the worry swirling in my head.
She tilts her head back, amused. “Are you okay?”
“No. I’m not.” My arms tighten around her. Like I can protect her from whatever it is out there waiting for her. “Come to the ranch today. Hang with Koty while I train.”
“What about the laundry?”
I kiss her lips, and she smiles. “We’ll do laundry together. Tonight.”
She considers it then says, “If that makes you feel better.”
“It does.” Unable to stop myself, my hands push open her silky robe. I cup her heavy breast, teasing a thumb over the bud of her nipple, and she gasps.
“Wyatt,” Fallon breathes reverently, leaning into me. Gripping her jaw and throat, I kiss her, and it steals every ounce of oxygen in my lungs.
Now that I’ve had her lips on mine, I’m taking every damn chance I can to kiss her.
I need to remind this stubborn woman I’m hers. She comes to me when she needs something. When she’s in trouble. I’ll lose my mind if it’s anyone else.
“You come to me.” My words are harsh, demanding. “I take care of my wife. No one else.”
“Yes,” she agrees, those gorgeous hazel eyes dazed.
Guiding my hands between her legs, I find her wetness, her heat. She’s already soaked for me. My cock jerks in my jeans.
Kissing her, I back her against the wall to give her some leverage. Then my jeans are off and Fallon’s tilting her hips toward me. The need to be inside Fallon is crippling. I can’t stand it any longer.
Fallon breathes heavily. “What time do you have to be at the ranch?” she asks as she lowers herself onto my aching dick.
I thrust hard, and Fallon cries out.
“Doesn’t fucking matter,” I grit out, pumping away as Fallon chants yes over and over again.
Only one thing in life does.
Fallon.