Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Sneaking out in the middle of the night again?” he asks, his voice heavy with sleep. He wraps his big arm around me and tugs me back into his chest. “I’m starting to feel like a dirty mistress.” He kisses the side of my neck.
“Yep. You’re my ranch rabbit,” I say as I pull my shirt over my head.
He props his chin on my shoulder. “Ranch rabbit?”
I twist and crawl up his body as he falls back against the pillow. “Yep. It’s like a buckle bunny, but stronger and better thrusting capability,” I say before taking his earlobe between my teeth.
His hands grip the back of my thighs as I drag my lips across his jaw.
“I booked us at Parson’s for Thursday and Friday,” I say before planting a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth and hopping out of the bed.
A groan escapes him as I walk to the door and step into my boots.
“Cabe’s expecting you at six,” I call over my shoulder before stepping out onto the porch and into the cool morning air.
“I think he’s ready,” I say as Bryce dismounts from Midnight Storm.
“You talkin’ about me or the horse?”
“The horse. You’re far from ready,” I say.
He takes Midnight’s lead and releases him onto the paddock.
I pull my phone from my back pocket and type a quick text to Caison, letting him know that he can pick the stallion up.
A light breeze rustles my hair, and I glance around the circle pen.
Dust begins to swirl. The sky above is that kind of perfect Wyoming blue, streaked with slow-moving clouds that catch the light just right.
I tip my head back, squinting against the glare, until something cool and wet lands on my cheek.
A raindrop.
I blink, startled, then laugh under my breath.
Another hits my forehead. Then another. Within seconds, the drizzle turns into a full-blown downpour, the kind that comes out of nowhere.
The sun’s still shining, but it’s pouring—silver rain falling in sheets across the pen.
I shriek, half from surprise, half from delight, spinning in place.
“Chuck!” Bryce’s voice carries over the rain.
He’s already running toward me from the gate, soaked through but grinning.
“Guess we should’ve checked the forecast!” I call back, laughing.
He grabs my hand before I can say anything else.
“Come on!” he says, and we take off, boots pounding through the mud, water splashing up the legs of our jeans as we race toward the barn.
We burst inside, breathless and dripping, the rain hammering against the tin roof so loud that it fills the whole space. I push wet hair off my face, laughing so hard that I can barely catch my breath. Bryce just stares at me for a second, his chest rising and falling, his eyes softening.
Then he steps closer.
He brushes his thumb across my jaw, tracing the raindrops still clinging there. Then his eyes drift down to the wet fabric of my white T-shirt, sticking to my chest.
“Don’t even think about it, cowboy,” I say, taking a step backward.
“What?” he says innocently as he stalks toward me.
He reaches for the hem of his soaked shirt and tugs it over his head. My eyes skim over his glistening skin.
“Like what you see?”
I shake my head. “Nope. Hate it.”
One side of his mouth quirks up as he reaches me. He wraps a hand around my hip and tugs me forward. “Hate this too?”
“Yep. It’s the worst,” I breathe.
“Really? What about when I do this?” He leans in and runs his tongue over the pulse point just below my ear.
“Terrible.”
“And this?” he asks as he pops the button on my jeans and slides his hand inside.
I whimper as he moves his fingers against me as his mouth sucks at my neck. Warm lips, cool skin. The contrast steals the air from my lungs. He kisses along the curve of my throat, slow and deliberate, and I swear my knees go weak.
“Bryce—” I start, but he just grins against my skin, and then he’s lifting me off my feet.
I gasp as he carries me across the barn and sets me down on a bale of hay. The scent of rain and straw mixes around us, the world outside nothing but sound. The heavy rain shielding us. His hand is still caressing my pussy, his eyes dark.
The next thing I know, his lips are on mine.
It’s not a gentle kiss. It’s deep and thorough. I grab at his hair, wet and clinging to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. When we break the kiss, he drops to his knees.
“We can’t,” I say. “What if someone walks in?”
“Don’t care,” he says as he removes my boots before peeling the denim down my legs.
He kisses my stomach, swirling his tongue in my belly button, and then he clutches my ankles, guiding my feet up onto the hay bale. My knees fall apart. I shudder as he runs his knuckles between my legs, my panties growing damp at his touch.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he whispers.
I plant my elbows behind me so I can watch as he kisses his away up my calf.
Brushing the silk aside, he glides two fingers through my center, coating them in my wetness, and then brings them up to swirl around my throbbing clit.
“Ry,” I sigh as he nudges them inside of me.
His eyes find mine as I rock against his palm.
“That’s it, Chuck,” he says as he watches me ride his hand.
I can feel the tension coiling at the base of my spine as I circle my hips. My hands go to his hair again, and my head falls back as his mouth finally wraps around my clit.
“Oh my God,” I pant as he licks and sucks the tiny bundle of nerves.
My legs begin to tremble as he devours me. He wraps his free hand around my hip and holds me steady as he continues to lap at my core until the orgasm crests, and waves of pleasure wash over me as I chant his name.
By the time I catch my breath, he’s standing, and I watch as he pulls his jeans off his hips. His cock springing free.
His eyes meet mine as I bite down on my bottom lip, and I drink him in—broad shoulders, wide chest, and the look of pure desire on his rugged face as he stares down at me. I feel so tiny with him towering over me. He settles between my open legs, positioning his tip at my entrance.
“Yes, right there,” I gasp.
He plants a hand on the barn wall above my head. Then, with one swift thrust, he buries himself deep.
I cry out as his lips go to my ear. He nips at my skin as he slowly pumps in and out.
“Fuck,” he groans as I wrap a leg behind him and start rolling my hips to meet his thrusts.
It feels so damn good. My muscles begin pulsing around him as his hips continue to hammer into me.
My breaths coming in short, labored pants as my fingernails score down his back.
“I’m going to come, baby,” he pants before slipping his hand between us, stroking me in just the right spot.
“Ahh, yes, Ry,” I exclaim as my body begins to convulse, pulling him deeper until he loses control.
His mouth clamps down on mine as he bucks wildly until he arches his back, his roar echoing off the walls before he collapses on top of me.
I run circles on his back as we lie there, naked, listening to the rain fade to a trickle.
“We have to stop doing this,” I say more to myself than to him.
His head lifts. “And why’s that?”
I turn my face to his. “Because you’ll be gone soon.”
He lets out a frustrated breath and stands. Jerking his pants up his legs.
“Where are you going?” I ask as I stand and do the same.
“Anywhere but here,” he growls as he grabs his shirt and boots.
“Wait,” I call as I step into my boots and follow after him. “What’s your problem?”
He slams his hand against the wall of the tack room, and he doesn’t look at me as he grits out, “Dammit, Chuck, you act like I’m already gone. I’m right fucking here.”
“Not for long,” I say.
“You’re right,” he says, tugging his boots on. “And at least you won’t have to sneak around anymore.”
He stomps out, leaving me standing in the barn door, watching him disappear behind the house.
Matty comes out of her office. “You okay?”
Oh no.
I turn slowly to face her. “Have you been in there this whole time?”
She nods.
“How much did you hear?”
She wrinkles her nose. “More than I ever wanted to.”
I let out a sob as I bring my hands up to cover my eyes.
“Oh, Char,” she says as she hurries over and wraps her arms around me. “It’s okay. It’ll all work out.”
“You’re not mad?”
“No,” she says as she rubs my back. “Traumatized maybe, but not mad.”
“But I just had sex in the barn with a client!”
Matty laughs. “Not something I would normally encourage, but who am I to judge? Look at me. I’m the poster child for mixing business with pleasure.
“There is one difference though,” she adds. “Bryce is leaving Wildhaven.”
“I know, and his stupid ass is gonna get back on a bull,” I say. “I failed.”