Chapter 23
I take my coffee out onto the porch the following morning.
It’s still early, and the sun has barely risen, so I drag a blanket with me to curl up on the hanging chair.
Horses are already being moved out into the pastures, so many of them I lost count after the seventeenth one.
Roman is out there too. I catch glimpses of him on the back of Pippin, despite his still very broken ribs.
Every now and then, he looks toward me, his eyes under the shadow of his hat, and each time my stomach does this weird little somersault.
Too easy.
Too easy would it be to fall into him, to lose myself in him. To let him take everything that feels entirely too heavy on my shoulders. But I am scared, and no amount of repeating my father’s words helps.
I’ve never been in love; I’ve never even looked for it. It hurts though, that much I know. I saw my dad after mom took off. I see Linda with her husband and how much pain it’s causing, knowing he’s ill and will one day leave her.
Say you need me.
A shiver runs through me, making my stomach clench and my thighs ache.
Say you want me.
I’d almost said exactly what we both wanted to hear, let go of the ties holding me back.
With his body so close to mine, it had been easy to forget the world around us existed.
He’s such an imposing man, a dominating presence, and I’ve no doubt that expands to every corner of him. How would he feel?
I wet my lips, unable to stop myself from imagining that big body moving on top of mine, how he would feel between my legs or how that thick beard around his mouth would feel scratching over my skin.
I have a feeling he would own me so thoroughly I’d struggle to figure out where I end and he begins.
I need to go for a swim or something. Finishing my coffee, I head back inside and take the stairs two at a time to get a bag together and my bikini on.
When I have everything ready and a towel thrown over my shoulder, I move to leave only to come to a stop when I see Roman standing at the front door.
Slowly, he takes the hat off his head and lets his eyes drag down me, his mouth lifting just a touch at the corner, but it soon drops when he realizes where I’m going.
“No.”
That’s a cold bucket of water. “Excuse me?”
“Have you forgotten already, sweetheart?” A muscle in his cheek twitches, “You’re not going into the woods alone.”
“I brought a gun this time,” I say like that makes it better.
“Not. Alone.” He punches out the two words.
“Then send one of your cowboys with me.”
“Absolutely not. Give me a minute, I’ll take you.”
My brows shoot up. “Are you not busy?”
“Not too busy for you.”
He moves past me and into the kitchen, plucking a set of keys from the hook. “Let’s go.”
When I don’t immediately follow him, he glances over his shoulder and quirks a brow. “What? Afraid to be alone with me?” His tone is light, teasing, a spark lighting up the amber of his eyes.
“We’re alone now.” I challenge, rising up to meet him.
“Don’t tease me, Niamh,” He rasps. “I’m close to breaking point with you.”
“And what happens when you pass that point?” I swallow, warmth blooming low in my stomach. I shift my weight, rubbing my thighs together to try and ease the ache that forms from the promise in those words.
“You want to find out, Niamh?”
I’m speechless, unsure how to answer it. I do want to find out, but I’m too chicken to admit it.
He chuckles warmly. “Come on.”
We head to the ATV parked beside the barn, and once Roman’s on, I climb on behind him, wrapping my arms around his hard abdomen, and even though they’re tight, he adjusts them, pulling them to tighten even further.
My entire front is pressed to his back, my thighs spread on either side of his hips.
He twists the throttle and pulls away, following the trail toward the woods.
It only takes us a couple of minutes to make it to the wood’s edge, where he brings us to a stop and I climb off.
“We hear anything,” His arm curls around me, “You run, you hear me?”
“Yes,” I breathe.
“Don’t wait for me.” He holds my eyes. “You run.”
“I understand.”
He stays close to me as we take the walk through the woods, shoulders brushing every couple of steps until the sound of the falls thunders through the trees. A breath of relief slips from me.
When I made this agreement with Roman all those weeks ago, I figured I’d be down here more, and yet, the times I’ve been swimming have been few and far between. But I’ve found I haven’t needed it as much, like I have been able to breathe without it. I wasn’t sure that would ever happen.
Roman lowers my bag to the ground and then takes up a spot on a fallen tree, lowering to sit with a full view of the plunge pool and the water falling over the slick and mossy rocks.
His eyes are on me the entire time I strip out of my clothes, down to the light blue bikini I picked out.
“You coming in, cowboy?” I call over my shoulder, walking into the shallows of the pool.
“I’d rather watch.”
My whole body warms, enough to fight off the chill the water attempts to wash over me.
I do my usual routine, get in so far until I can lift and swim, moving into the center of the pool where I then turn on my back.
The water ripples around me, and the sky opens up above my eyes, birds sweeping over to land in the thick canopy.
I’m not sure how long I float there — long enough for my fingers to prune — and when I right myself, Roman is still on that log, though he’s leaning forward now, his elbows resting on his knees, watching.
He looks as content as I feel, soft, shoulders relaxed.
I cut through the water, back to the shore and stand once I’m able to touch the bottom.
He immediately straightens, eyes following the path of the water that rolls down my body.
“Enjoying the show?” I tease.
Whiskey eyes flick up, and he wets his mouth. “I am.”
Picking up my towel, I get a little confidence boost as I wrap it around myself and then reach for the strings securing the fabric around my neck.
His throat works on a swallow as I pull them loose and then reach down the back of the towel for the back strings.
Once they’re released, I pull the top free, dropping it onto the floor.
Any other man looking at me the way Roman is looking at me would get a quick and sharp slap, but him… I could have him watch me all day. It’s hungry, a little desperate — a match to the growing need inside of me.
I tighten the towel a little further before reaching up and pulling on the strings keeping my panties in place.
“Niamh,” He growls, his eyes darkening, a muscle in his jaw ticking.
“Yes?” I ask innocently. Reaching into the bag, I pull my black lacy panties that I’d tucked into one of the side pockets out and pull them up beneath the towel. I grab my oversized bar tee next.
“I’m going to need you to put some clothes on, sweetheart.”
I flutter my lashes at him but then turn around, giving him my back. With shaking hands; I undo the knot securing the towel in place. “Why? It’s not like you haven’t seen it before.”
The cool air of the forest kisses my skin, sending goosebumps down my body.
When he doesn’t deny it, I chuckle, “I knew it was you that day.” God, that feels like so long ago now. “So, what’s the big deal?”
Pulling the tee over my head, I turn back to him, adjusting the stretchy fabric. It’s long enough to cover most of me, stopping just at the top of my thighs.
A hiss of breath leaves him as he leans forward once more, resting his head in his hand so it covers his mouth. Eyes roam over me, following every line, every curve.
It’s not hard to see the bulge in his pants, the way the denim of his jeans molds to the shape of his hard cock. That can’t be comfortable.
“Not seen a naked girl before?” Perhaps taunting him isn’t the wisest idea, but I’m feeling free and a little reckless. I want to push just to see what happens. “Don’t worry, cowboy.” I purposely drop my eyes to his lap. “Your secret is safe with me.”
His eyes burn into me. “Keep that up, sweetheart, and I’ll make you deal with it here and now.”
“You can try,” I laugh.
“You want to play, Niamh,” His voice drops an octave lower, “We can play.”
“Not sure you could keep up,” I challenge.
His shoulders shake with his laughter. “You have no fucking idea what I’m capable of, but if you’re a good girl, I can show you.”
I think my brain short-circuits.
His grin is mischievous as he rises to stand, stepping closer. His hand goes to the hem of my shirt, and he shifts it up until he can curl his palm around my hip, and then he tugs me closer, until my body is lined up against his.
I feel his cock pressing into my lower abdomen, warmth blooming between my legs in response.
“And you’d fucking like it,” He purrs.
His fingers curl into my flesh. “Roman.”
“It would be louder than that.” He dips his head, running his nose along my jawline. “You’d scream it. Claw my back until I bled.”
Jesus fucking Christ.
“And then I’d do it again, until I painted you mine from the inside and marked your thighs with my fingers. Left bites on your neck and your lips swollen from my kiss.”
My breath is coming out in short but heavy bursts. Oh my god. My core throbs. I feel every part of his touch, hyperaware of his presence and every part of him that touches me. The scratch of his stubble, the hardness of his fingers, the words that are promised against my skin.
His hand releases my hip but doesn’t let go; instead, he follows the curve down, over the strap of my panties before he comes to a stop at my thigh, fingers drumming against my skin.
“Tell me, wife,” His voice is all growl, deep, rasping and warm, “Are you wet? If I slip my hand inside your panties, will I find out just how much you want me?”
Yes.
He keeps his eyes on mine, and as he traces his fingers inwards, to my inner thigh and then up, I shiver, “Tell me to stop.”
My lashes flutter. “I can’t.”
“Fuck,” He groans, and his fingers slip under my panties. On the first swipe, my knees wobble; on the second, a loud moan slips from my lips.
“Goddamn,” He groans, “Lift your leg, sweetheart.”
Shakily, I do as instructed and rest my foot on the log beside him, giving him access to me. And he fucking takes it, lowering his fingers closer to my entrance to tease me there, circling and dipping only a little inside.
“You are drenched, baby,” He rasps, focused on his task. “You feel that? How wet you are?”
“More,” I beg shamelessly, my head tipping back, “Fuck.”
He gives as I ask, sliding his fingers further inside of me and curling them just right as he slides them back out only to press the pad of his thumb to my clit.
I reach out to steady myself on his shoulder, my body tightening in response to his fingers. Nipples pressing against the material of my shirt, skin pebbling, heart racing… fuck me.
He keeps going, pushing further and further, in and out with his fingers while he circles his thumb over my clit. It isn’t rushed, and not a single spot is missed. He’s meticulous, absolute, playing my body like it’s an instrument that only he knows how to play.
“You’re so fucking warm, Niamh,” He groans, “I feel you sucking me in. So greedy, baby.”
The rasp of his words only adds to the inferno burning up inside of me, winding me up so damn tight. Any moment I’m going to snap.
“You’re going to sing for me, aren’t you, pretty girl?” His pace quickens, thrusting his hand into me harder, faster, all the while his thumb works my clit.
“Oh God,” I cry out, my hips now moving to chase the high.
“Give it to me, Niamh,” He demands. “Come on, let me see it. Relax.”
My fingers curl into his shoulder as every single muscle tightens, my pussy convulsing, squeezing.
It all releases at once, and I can’t stop the sound that leaves my throat. I moan his name as I convulse, my orgasm ripping through me. He keeps going, working me through it until I can’t stand any longer, and even then, he catches me, his fingers still buried inside.
With one arm banded around me, the other between my legs, he dips his head and buries his face into the side of my neck, licking and sucking my skin.
“So fucking pretty when you fall apart for me, sweetheart.”