Chapter 20 Ruth
Chapter twenty
Ruth
When I wake the following morning, the other side of the bed is empty. There’s a note on top of my phone, and the coffee machine in the kitchen is prepared and ready to brew at the press of a single button.
I take my time to get ready, choosing my comfiest denim shorts and a T-shirt borrowed from Amie. It’s white, with a red horseshoe printed on the chest, cropped just enough to show a sliver of skin above the waistband of my shorts, and it matches my new boots perfectly.
With one final slick of mascara on my lashes, I nod at my reflection in the mirror, drink down the last of my coffee, and gather my phone and the key to Everett’s truck. He left it on the kitchen counter for me, with instructions to use it if I need it.
I don’t need to, though. I can hear the braying of cattle in the nearby paddock, and the telltale clatter of tools that gets louder as I walk says someone is nearby. Brooks’s booming laugh carries on the breeze, mingling with the dark velvet of Everett’s chuckle as I finally spot them.
The contents of a toolbox are spread out around them, and Brooks is concentrating hard, fiddling with what looks like delicately-woven pipework. Everett looks up as I get closer, and even from several feet away, I can see the desire darken his eyes.
“Well, aren’t you just the prettiest fucking thing in a pair of boots,” he murmurs as I approach. The tall, red leather has put a pep in my step and my walk is more of a saunter. There’s a swing in my hips that wasn’t there before. I smirk, slowing my pace and strutting like a damn peacock.
Who are you and what have you done with Ruth Bevan?
His gaze roves up and down my body, heating my skin, and warmth pools between my thighs as he bites his lower lip. Fuck, that’s hot.
The longer I’m here, the more time Everett and I spend together—whether it’s innocently sharing a bed, or simply talking—the more I want him desperately. I want his mind and his heart, and I want everything else, too. He’s awakened feelings in me I haven’t had for a long time.
And the way he’s looking at me right now, I don’t think I’m the only one who wants this.
I spend about an hour in the sun with Ev and Brooks.
Brooks manages to fix the irrigation system he was playing with, and then we seek shade under a tree and just talk for a while.
I finally get to hear a different perspective on some of the childhood adventures Everett shared with me, and when I leave them to return to the cabin, it’s with a gentle pink flush from the sun, and sneaking suspicion that Brooks has a big old crush on Everett’s sister, Ashton.
The Fearless album is a tried-and-true favourite, and I play it from my phone as I sit at the kitchen counter.
A recent morning with Maisy had me digging out my scrapbook collection, and I brought a bunch of supplies with me.
I want to document this chapter of my life, because no matter how it turns out, I know for certain I’m going to emerge a better version of myself.
I’m still cutting and sticking when Everett returns a couple of hours later.
He leans in for a quick kiss before excusing himself to change, and I follow him like an obedient puppy.
We’re barely through the bedroom door before he whirls around, closing the distance between us in a single stride, and captures my lips in the most punishing, intense kiss I think I’ve ever experienced.
“Fuck, Ruth,” he whispers. We break the kiss for air before his lips find mine again, and a whimper catches in the back of his throat as I suck his lower lip into my mouth. His hands tug at the lower hem of my T-shirt, and I pull back, allowing him the space to lift it over my head.
He reaches behind his head and tears off his T-shirt and fuck, that’s just about the sexiest thing a man can do.
His chest bears a light sprinkle of soft, dark hair, skin bright and golden from working outdoors in the sun.
He’s the kind of man they build statues of.
His thick fingers work at the clasp of my bra and I shrug out of it, flinging it to the floor.
I’m naked from the waist up, the button on my shorts popped open, and I throw my head back as he kisses a wet line down my throat.
I wrestle with the button on his jeans and shove them roughly down his hips, leaving his tented boxers the only barrier remaining between us.
I’m so ready for him. I want him. I need him.
I reach down to kick off my boots.
“Leave them on. I want to fuck you in them.” His voice is tight, like our kisses have suffocated him the same way they’ve been stealing my breath.
He pushes my shorts down with my underwear and I let them both drop to my ankles, lifting my feet out of them as he reaches down to grab my thighs, lifting me onto the dresser and setting me on the edge.
The sexiest cowboy in the west is between my legs, and my heart is racing.
He’s fucking gorgeous. Sculpted muscles born from years of physical work rather than gym-built; dark curls just a little too long, storm cloud eyes burning right into my soul.
They move from my face down to my hips, settling between my legs like the fire he set.
“Fuck, you’re even more beautiful than I imagined,” he murmurs, taking me in.
I swallow hard. “You… you imagined?”
He looks up and meets my eyes.
“Baby girl, I’ve been imagining your beautiful cunt since the day we met. How pretty it would be. How sweet. I’ve been dying to taste you.”
He holds my gaze for a beat of silence.
“Can I? Taste you?”
I nod shakily. Holy fuck.
He dips his head to do just that and I cry out, the sensation like nothing I’ve ever felt. His tongue is fire and ice all at once. A low moan leaves his lips as he tastes me for the first time, rumbling against me and sending shockwaves through my entire body.
“So goddamn fucking sweet, baby girl, you taste so fucking good.”
His mouth never leaves me as he heaps praise on my pussy, the vibration of his words and movement of his lips heightening everything. I can’t take it. It feels so good and my entire body is burning up. I might combust. I might leave him tongue-fucking a pile of ashes.
“Holy fuck, holy fuck,” I chant. My body is on fire.
Every nerve ending is on fire as his tongue lavishes my pussy with his undivided attention.
“I’m not gonna last long.” I clench my thighs around his head, writhing and twisting, too sensitive.
It’s too intense. It hurts. It feels like fire.
It doesn’t hurt at all. It feels incredible.
He pulls back slightly, stroking my thigh with his thumb.
“Shh, baby girl, just relax,” he says. His warm breath on my clit has me shuddering, the muscles in my stomach clenching and quivering. “Just relax, that’s a good girl.”
As my breathing starts to even out, he returns his hand to its spot low on my pelvis and lowers his face again, greeting my pussy like a long-lost friend, one long lick from my entrance to my clit, and then he sucks my sensitive flesh into his mouth.
I cry out again, bucking my hips into his hand.
He chuckles, a warm rumble, his mouth never leaving me.
This time, the vibration sets my blood on fire and I wind his hair around my fingers as I focus on breathing.
His mouth feels amazing. I scrunch my eyes closed and sweat coats my entire body as my thighs begin to tremble.
I feel him smile against me as he continues to lick at my entrance, and the movement of his lips sends me over the edge. His name falls from my lips in a high whine as my entire body explodes beneath him.
“You liked that, huh?” He grins, eyes heavy-lidded and dark with desire. I nod. I don’t think I can speak right now.
“Has anyone ever done that to you before?” he asks, slowly moving up my body towards me. I shake my head. No. No one has done that before. And I don’t think anyone else ever could. I think he’s just ruined me. Branded me. Claimed me. Everett Tanner owns me now.
“Fuck, baby,” he says lowly, brushing a finger over my clit and making me jump at the sensation. “Do you have any fucking idea how incredible that is? To be the first one to taste you?”
My eyes slam closed as he continues to ghost his fingertips over me, swiping them through my wet flesh to press against the sensitive bundle of nerves.
“I get to be the first person to taste you, baby girl, and goddamn, I hope I get to be the last.”
He’s above me then, scooping me into his arms and pressing his lips to mine, kissing me hard.
His tongue swipes against the seam of my lips and I open for him, tasting myself on his mouth as his tongue slides against mine.
Somewhere in the depths of my mind, almost entirely drowned out by the sheer ecstasy of this man’s touch, I register him lifting me from the dresser and depositing me on his bed.
His hands splay over my ribs and he uses his thumbs to massage my nipples lightly.
A wave of warmth crashes over me, settling low in my core as Everett lowers his face to my throat.
He kisses a line down my skin, between my breasts, until I feel his lips replace one thumb and he pulls my nipple into his mouth.
He sucks hard, teeth grazing, tongue flicking around the tightened bud sending sparks of heat and desire coursing through my veins.
“Is this okay?” he whispers against my skin. I grip his hair, pressing his head into my chest. I feel his lips curl into a smile as he takes me into his mouth again.