Chapter 25
Zane
Ten minutes after Dax hits the road again, Ridge sends an urgent text from the westernmost pasture. One of the watering holes has a clogged drain, so it’s overflowing.
I grab the equipment we’ll need to fix it and head out on the four-wheeler.
By the time I make it back in the late afternoon, my shirt is soaked with sweat and I smell like irrigation water and cow shit.
I strip down to just my jeans at the side of the barn and use the hose to rinse off.
The first pulse of water is sun-warmed and feels good, but after that it starts to run cold.
Goosebumps prickle across my bare chest as I scrub my hands.
I’m not looking forward to the shock of the cold on my head, but I also don’t want to go inside without rinsing this mud off.
It’s in my fucking ears, and the back of my neck feels caked in sludge.
Taking off my hat, I hook it over the fence post and close my eyes. Bracing one hand on the rail, I lift the hose over my head and sluice the ice-cold well water down the back of my neck.
“God damn,” I groan. “That’s so fucking cold.”
Shivering, I scrub the back of my neck, then tip my face up, fighting through the bracing chill to find the refreshing edge as I rinse not just dirt but also a full day of sweat off my skin.
When I think I’ve got most of the grime off, I run the hose over my bare chest, then scrub my hand over my face to wipe the drips away before I open my eyes—only to lock my gaze on Hope.
She’s standing at the corner of the barn, one leg in front of the other, as if she literally froze mid-stride when she saw me rinsing off. She has an armful of flowers in one hand, and an empty bucket in the other.
“Do you need the hose?” I ask, holding it out.
She blinks. “Pardon?”
“The hose.” I gesture it toward the bucket in her hand.
“Oh.” She licks her lips and takes a step toward me. Stops. Blushes.
God, she’s pretty.
“Closer,” I murmur.
She laughs and tosses her head, nodding as she comes all the way over and holds out the bucket.
As I fill it for her, she stares at my chest, her greedy gaze raking over my nipples and down to my belt and back up again. Her eyes feel like a physical touch and I ache for her to put the flowers down and put her hands on me.
“Thank you,” she whispers when the water is halfway to the top of the bucket.
I lean over and turn off the tap. Then I grab my shirt and hat, very aware of her gaze on my bare skin.
I take my time. Giving her time to retreat, and she does move a bit, heading to the corner of the barn again—returning to work, because we’ve only kissed so far, and cuddled with our clothes on, and this is probably across a line she isn’t ready to cross.
But she wants to, and that’s more than enough for me.
By the time I get to where she’s standing, she hasn’t turned away, hasn’t fled. Her gaze drops again to my damp chest, and my nipples tighten painfully under her inspection.
Every part of my body is hyper aware that she’s looking at my naked flesh, really looking, and not running scared.
I’m not going to spook her, but I’m not going to pretend that this isn’t happening, either. And if she wants something, at some point she’s going to have to take it.
“See something you like?”
She squeaks and jerks her head up, lifting her chin. “I—”
“I’m filthy,” I continue. “So I’m not going to press you up against the side of the barn or anything. But if you see something you want, you should feel free to take it.”
“I don’t know what I want,” she whispers.
And damn if that isn’t the sweetest, most honest thing I’ve ever heard.
It’s fucking sexy. I’m going to jerk off tonight to that breathy little gift.
I run my hand through my wet hair, pushing it back, giving her a little flexing show of biceps at the same time, then I set my hat on my head. “Is that better?”
She blushes. “I do like your hat. But the damp hair was nice, too.”
I set my hands on my hips next. “How about this?”
“What are you doing?” Her eyes lift to meet my gaze. They’re soft and warm, and most of all, they’re open. No flinching, no pulling away.
“Just putting myself in front of you to do whatever you want. You could pat my muscles a little. Treat me like a horse.”
That makes her laugh. “You’re not a horse.”
“No? I work in the fields all day. Come back and eat oats and apples and carrots.”
“You don’t sleep in a stable.”
“Wouldn’t be so bad.”
“I can’t put a saddle on you.”
“You could.” I lean in. “You want to go into the tack room and tie me up?”
Her pupils dilate. “Maybe.”
“Yeah? I’d like that.”
“Really?” She searches my face, her lips parted, her eyes wide. “You’d let me tie you up again, and…touch you?”
Even after the ice cold hose bath I just had, my cock swells at the thought. “Let you? Darling, I would beg you to do that if you were ready.”
She licks her lips.
And then, from the baby monitor on her hip, comes a little sleepy cry.
Saved by the Bellamy.
But after dinner, when it’s still light out but Bellamy’s in bed, Hope casually grabs the baby monitor and says she’s going to join me for evening chores.
My pulse is thick with awareness as we walk side by side to the barn, our hands brushing. Halfway there, I catch her fingers in mine and hold on tight.
As soon as we get to the tack room, she pushes me against the door. I grab a leather strap hanging on a hook and wrap it around my own wrist, leaving one of my hands free to touch her as she kisses me.
She doesn’t complain.
Her mouth is as sweet and lush as it was our first kiss. Heaven couldn’t be better than this. It’s a hungry press of tongues, warm desire crashing into hot need. Building to something fast and furious, something sparked by her liking what she saw today, and me opening that door.
I’m hers if she wants me, and yes, she fucking wants me.
She winds her arms around my neck and presses up, climbing my body with her own. She’s wearing something new tonight, jeans that mould to her curves and a t-shirt that ends at her belly button instead of hanging down to her hips.
It’s all very touchable. My free hand slides into her back pocket, and the soft shape of her ass in my palm is enough to make me spill a little seed in my shorts. Fuck. Fuck.
Tipping her hips toward my body, I ease my thigh between her legs and brace myself against the door behind my back.
She makes the most delicious sound as she kisses me and hitches herself against my leg. Tiny little grinding motions that don’t get her there, but do get her worked up.
My cock stretches, testing the tight confines of my jeans as her hip brushes my erection with each rocking motion.
But as we make out, her breathing doesn’t soften and turn languid, it tightens up. Anxious is the last thing I want Hope to be.
“Hey hey, it’s okay,” I murmur as I let go of the strap.
I scoop both arms around her and slow her grinding hips, gentling her until she stops. My sweet filly girl. Despite the fact that she’s a mother, I don’t think she’s very experienced.
So the tack room is not the place for this, as hot as it is.
She gives me a frustrated little huff. “Why did you stop?”
“Because it’s time for bed, City Girl.”
“What do you mean?” Her breath is ragged and her eyes are glassy, her pupils blown wide.
“I’ve got chores to do. And you…” I sweep my gaze down her body to where our legs are still tangled. “I think you want to be alone. I know you want to be here, too, pressing your hot body against mine. And I like that so much. You’ve got me hard as nails, can you feel that?”
She moans.
“That’s what you do to me. But I don't think you’re ready for me to reach into your jeans and help you get to where you need to be tonight, are you?”
She doesn’t argue with me.
We’re getting there. But we aren’t all the way there yet.
“Go to Dax’s room,” I whisper. “Curl up under my blanket on his couch, and touch yourself if you want to. Think of kissing me and touching me. Can you do that, Hope?”
She nods, her breath fast and shallow.
“Good girl.” I bow my head and breathe in her sweet scent one last time. Feel her shudder. Know that I’ll be replaying that over and over again, all night long. “I’ll see you in the morning.”