CHAPTER SIX
Dalton
The feeling of Riley coming around my cock was going to ruin me for every other woman on the planet.
Not that I wanted any other woman.
I wanted this one—this gorgeous, smart-mouthed, curve-covered woman who was currently falling apart beneath me, her pussy clenching tightly around me.
“Riley,” I groaned her name again, my rhythm faltering as my orgasm barreled down on me like a freight train.
I tried to hold back and make it last longer, but her nails were digging into my shoulders, and she was making these breathy little sounds, whispering my name, and I was fucking gone.
My release slammed into me, and I drove into her one last time, burying myself as deep as I could go, and came harder than I ever had in my entire damn life.
Wave after wave of pleasure washed over me, and I couldn’t stop the rough sounds tearing from my throat. I couldn’t stop saying her name like it was the only word I knew.
When I finally came back to myself, I was collapsed on top of her, my face buried in her neck, my heart hammering like I’d just run a marathon.
Her hands were smoothing up and down my back. My body was still shaking.
“You okay?” she asked softly.
I lifted my head to look at her. Her hair was a mess, spread across my pillow like dark silk. Her lips were swollen from my kisses. Her skin was flushed, and there were marks on her neck where I’d sucked too hard.
She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
“That was—fuck, Riley. That was—”
“Yeah,” she agreed, smiling. “It really was.”
I kissed her—slow and deep, tasting her satisfaction and my own—before carefully pulling out. She made a small sound of protest that made me want to dive right back in for round two.
Later. Definitely later.
I got up and dealt with the condom in the bathroom, taking a moment to splash cold water on my face and try to process what had just happened.
I’d had sex before. Good sex. Great sex, even.
But that? That was something else entirely.
That was the kind of sex that changed things. The kind that burrowed under your skin and made a home there. The kind that made you realize you’d been living in black and white until suddenly everything was in color.
I walked out with a wet cloth and sat down on the side of the bed. She’d curled herself into a tight ball and I knew what she was doing. Hiding those freaking curves. I also knew it would take more than one night to rid her of those insecurities. But it was something I vowed to do.
When I convinced her to stay.
I eased her legs apart and she followed my silent instructions even though I knew it cost her.
I cleaned her gently with the warm cloth, loving the fact that she trusted me to do that.
I pulled the covers over her, then walked back into the bathroom to dispose of the cloth.
As I walked back to bed, she was watching me with those pretty eyes.
“What?” I asked, climbing in beside her and pulling her against my chest.
“Nothing. Just... thinking.”
“About?”
“About how good you are at that.” Mischief danced in her eyes. “You’ve clearly had practice.”
“Some,” I admitted. “But that was different.”
“Different how?”
I could’ve deflected. Made a joke. Changed the subject.
Instead, I told her the truth even though I knew it probably sounded like a line. “It’s never felt like that before.”
Something vulnerable flickered across her face before she started to shake her head. “You don’t have to say things like that to me.”
“I know it’s fast,” I interrupted, stroking her hair. “I know we’ve only known each other less than a week. But I can’t pretend I don’t feel what I feel, Riley.”
“What do you feel?”
Everything. I felt everything.
“I don’t want you to leave after Christmas,” I said instead.
She was quiet for a long moment, and I could feel her tension, her uncertainty.
“I don’t know how to stay,” she finally whispered. “I’ve never been good at it.”
“Then let me teach you.” I tilted her chin up, making her look at me. “You learned to cook in less than a week. Pretty sure we can figure out the staying thing together.”
She traced a finger down my chest, following the line of the scar across my ribs. “Tell me about this one.”
I let her change the subject even though it about killed me. I glanced down at the puckered white line. “Bull got me when I was twenty-two. I thought I was hot shit and could ride anything. I learned real quick that confidence and stupidity often look the same.”
“Sounds painful.”
“It was. But it taught me respect. For the animals, for the land, for the work.” I caught her hand, bringing it to my mouth. “It taught me that some things are worth the scars.”
Her eyes met mine. “Are you always this intense?”
“Only when it matters.” I kissed her palm, her wrist, the inside of her elbow. “And you matter, Riley. More than you probably should after six days.”
“Six days,” she repeated, like she was trying to convince herself it was too soon to feel this way.
My phone rang on the nightstand, shattering the moment. I ignored it, kissing her neck.
It stopped, then immediately started ringing again.
“It might be important,” Riley said. “One of the boys.”
I liked that note of concern in her voice.
I reached over and grabbed it, frowning when Mae’s name flashed on the screen. “I should take this,” I said apologetically, sitting up. She sat up too, pulling the cover around her.
“Mae. Everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine, dear. I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” There was amusement in her voice that made me suspicious.
“No,” I lied, watching the frown appear on Riley’s face. “What’s up?”
“Well, I have some news. My wrist is healing much faster than the doctor expected. He says I can come back to work the day after Christmas.”
My stomach dropped. “That’s great,” I managed.
“Which means Riley can leave. I know she’s probably eager to get back to her regular life.
Or,” Mae continued, “if she’s enjoying herself there, she could stay on.
You’ve said before that I could hire an assistant.
The ranch has grown enough that two cooks would make sense. But that’s up to you, of course.”
“Of course,” I echoed.
“How is she doing, by the way?”
“She’s doing great. Really great. The boys love her food.”
“Good, good. Well, I’ll let you go. Tell Riley to call me when she gets a chance, would you?”
“Will do. Thanks for letting me know, Mae.”
I hung up and set the phone down, my mind racing.
The day after Christmas. That was three weeks away.
“So,” Riley said quietly. “Mae’s coming back.”
“The day after Christmas. Says her wrist is healing faster than expected.”
“That’s good.” But she didn’t sound like she thought it was good.
“She also said you could stay on permanently if you wanted. As her assistant.” I kept my voice neutral, even though my heart was pounding.
Riley pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. “That’s... that’s really nice of her to offer.”
“Is it something you’d want?”
She was quiet for a long moment. “I don’t know. I’ve never stayed anywhere long enough to find out if I wanted to stay permanently.”
“Why not?”
She looked at me then, and the vulnerability in her eyes made my chest ache.
“My parents died when I was fifteen,” she said softly.
“Car accident. One minute they were there, the next they were gone. I went to live with Mae and she was amazing. She took me in without hesitation and loved me like I was her own.” She shook her head.
“But I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was temporary. That I didn’t really belong.”
“Riley—”
“So when I turned eighteen, I left for college. And then after college, I just... kept moving. I work remotely doing graphic design and pick up service jobs when I need extra money. I never stay in one place more than a few months.”
“What are you running from?” I asked quietly.
“Loss,” she whispered. “Attachment. The feeling of belonging somewhere, only to have it ripped away. It’s easier to leave first.”
I pulled her into my arms, holding her tight against my chest. She came willingly, tucking her face into my neck.
“I get it,” I said. “My ex left me two years ago. Said ranch life wasn’t exciting enough. She wanted the city, status.” I paused. “She taught me that sometimes people leave no matter what you do.”
“So why are you asking me to stay?”
“Because you’re not her. And I’m not going to let fear stop me from trying.”
She studied my face. “What if I get scared and run? What if I hurt you?”
“Then I’ll be hurt. But I’d rather take that risk than spend the rest of my life wondering what might have been.” I brushed a tear from her cheek. “You don’t have to decide right now. You’ve got three weeks. Let me show you why staying might be worth it.”
She let out a shaky laugh. “That’s pretty confident.”
“I’m a confident man.” I kissed her mouth. “Especially when I know what I want.”
“And what do you want?”
“You. Here. In my bed every night and my kitchen every morning.”
More tears spilled down her cheeks, and I kissed each one away.
“No decisions tonight,” I said softly. “Tonight, I just want to hold you.”
“Okay,” she whispered.
We lay in silence for a while. Then she spoke, so softly I almost missed it.
“I want to stay. I’m just scared.”
My arms tightened around her. “I know, baby.”
“My parents used to travel a lot for work,” she said eventually. “Sales stuff, always on the road. I hated being dragged from place to place. Never having real friends, never belonging anywhere.” She laughed bitterly. “Funny how I ended up doing the same thing.”
“You’re trying to control the leaving instead of having it happen to you.”
“When did you get so smart?”
“Long winters, lots of books, too much time alone.” I kissed the top of her head. “Plus, I’ve had my own shit to work through.”
“Do you ever get lonely out here?”
“I used to. Before you showed up covered in flour and burning my kitchen down.”
That earned me a laugh, and I felt some of the tension leave her body.
“One day at a time,” I said. “One meal at a time. One kiss at a time.” I tilted her face up. “Starting with this one.”
I kissed her slowly, thoroughly, pouring everything I felt into it.
When I pulled back, her eyes were dark with renewed desire.
“Again?” I asked, already hardening against her thigh.
“Yes,” she breathed. “Please, yes.”
I took my time exploring every inch of her body, learning what made her gasp, what made her moan, what made her beg.
I worshipped her curves with my hands and mouth, telling her with touch what I wasn’t quite ready to say with words yet.
When I finally slid inside her again, it felt like coming home.
We moved together in the darkness, Christmas lights from outside casting patterns on the walls, and I knew—I fucking knew—that this woman was going to change my life.
I just had to convince her to let me change hers too.
Later, as she slept in my arms, I made myself a promise.
Three weeks to show Riley that she belonged here. Three weeks to prove that staying didn’t mean losing.
It was going to be enough.
It had to be.
Because watching her drive away after Christmas wasn’t something I was willing to accept.