Chapter 17
17
Caroline
“Walker, come on. I’m asking you to fuck me, not marry me.”
One week later, I was almost ready to get on my knees and beg for this man to show me how to get it on. We’d spent days mastering the art of oral sex and I was now determined to move on to the big league.
The glow of the lamplight cast shadows across my room as I sat on the edge of my bed, nervously fidgeting with the hem of my cotton tank top. Walker leaned against the doorframe, his casual posture belying the intensity in his light blue eyes.
“Caroline,” he drawled, the corners of his mouth tilting up ever so slightly, “are you sure about this? I mean, fooling around and flirting is one thing. But going all the way is another.”
“Going all the way? We’re not in high school anymore, Walk.”
“Shit. I know it.”
I exhaled a shaky breath, feeling the weight of my own inexperience like a heavy blanket wrapped around me. The room felt suddenly too small, the walls inching closer as I met his gaze .
“And no,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “No, I’m not sure. Not about you. About myself.” My admission hung in the air between us, thick with vulnerability.
Walker pushed away from the doorframe and took a few deliberate steps toward me, his boots silent on the carpet. He crouched down to my eye level, his presence simultaneously comforting and unnerving.
“Talk to me, Caroline,” he urged softly.
I drew in a deep breath, the scent of hay and leather that perpetually clung to him filling my senses. “It’s just . . . I spent so much time buried in textbooks, learning how to save other people’s lives, I never really . . . learned how to live my own,” I confessed, the words tumbling out as if they had a life of their own. “Especially not my . . . sexual life.” Saying it out loud, to Whittier Falls’ infamous playboy made heat flood my cheeks.
He nodded, his expression serious. “That’s nothing to be ashamed of, Caroline.”
“Isn’t it though?” I chuckled bitterly, my fingers still twisting the fabric of my gown. “I’m a thirty-three-year-old woman who’s more familiar with medical charts than . . . well, than what goes on with two people behind closed doors.”
Walker reached out, his rough hand covering mine, stilling its nervous motion. “Everyone’s path is different. Doesn’t make yours any less important or fulfilling.”
“But there have been disappointments,” I continued, my voice laced with the remnants of past hurt. “Dates that ended with a handshake instead of a goodnight kiss. Moments when I thought there might be a connection, only to find out he was interested in anyone but the shy, nerdy med student.”
“Hey,” Walker said gently, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “You’re not that girl anymore. You’re a brilliant doctor, Caroline. A woman who’s come back to her roots, ready to give back to the town that raised her. And besides, if that’s all they thought of you, then they damn sure don’t belong in your panties.”
“Maybe. Yet here I am,” I countered, “asking for lessons in something most people figure out in the backseat of a car by their seventeenth birthday.”
“Nothing wrong with waiting, or with wanting to learn,” he replied with an ease that suggested he truly believed it. “Besides, I’ve seen you with your patients. You’re compassionate, attentive . . . If you bring even a fraction of that dedication to . . . this,” he gestured vaguely between us, “you’ll be more than fine.”
“Practice makes perfect, right?” I tried to joke, though my laugh sounded hollow to my own ears.
“Exactly,” Walker agreed, the twinkle returning to his eyes. “And I reckon I’m a patient teacher. But only if you really want this and are sure about it.”
We shared a look then, something shifting in the space between us—a mixture of anticipation and a newfound understanding. And under the steady gaze of those clear blue eyes, my fears began to dissipate.
“Caroline,” he said, his voice low and steady, “you’ve spent your life mastering things most folks wouldn’t dare touch. If you can navigate the human body, saving lives, then trust me, you can navigate this.” He gestured around my room, but the implication was clear—it wasn’t the room we were trying to figure out.
I sighed, tucking my hair behind my ear, feeling the weight of years spent in pursuit of a career—a calling—that had left little room for personal exploration. “But it’s different, Walker. Medicine is science; there are books, studies. This—” I paused, searching for words that wouldn’t betray the heat creeping into my cheeks, “—this is about feeling.”
“Maybe so,” he conceded, his gaze never wavering from mine, “ but feelings ain’t foreign to you, Caroline. You’re one of the most empathetic people I know. And desire? It’s just another feeling—one you’re entitled to.”
I found myself studying the patterns in the weave of the quilt beneath me, tracing the lines and curves as if they might spell out a solution. “It’s just that lately, I’ve been . . . curious,” I admitted hesitantly. “I started reading some romance novels—you know, the ones with the bikers and mercenaries and,” I paused, feeling my cheeks redden, “cowboys who always seem to know exactly what to do?”
His chuckle was a rich sound that seemed to resonate through the room. “I reckon I’m familiar with the type.”
My eyes flicked up to meet his, and I saw not mockery but genuine amusement dancing in those light blue depths. “Well, they’ve made me feel . . . sexual, for lack of a better word. They’ve woken up parts of my imagination I didn’t even realize were asleep.”
“Nothing wrong with a little awakening,” Walker replied, shifting to sit closer, his movements deliberate yet unhurried. “And if those books got you thinking, got you wanting more, then I’d say they did their job.”
“Even if it’s a little late in the game?” My question was tinged with the vulnerability that came from revealing a piece of my inner world, one that had remained untouched for far too long.
“Caroline,” he said, and there was a reverence in his voice that made me look at him anew, “there’s no expiration date on discovering what brings you joy. So, tell me about these cowboy heroes of yours. What have they taught you?”
Laughter bubbled up from somewhere deep inside me, surprising in its lightness. “I don’t think you want to know.”
“Try me,” he challenged, a lopsided grin spreading across his face .
“Fine,” I relented, rolling my eyes in mock exasperation. “They’ve taught me that sometimes, the right person can make you feel alive in ways you never expected.”
“Sounds like a good lesson to me,” Walker murmured, his hand reaching out to gently tilt my chin upward, ensuring our eyes remained locked.
“And maybe that . . . being manhandled and fucked hard outdoors is what every woman needs sometimes.”
I chuckled but Walker didn’t. He breathed in deep like he was trying to stay in control.
“There it is. Desire.”
“Desire.”
The air between us was charged now, the kind of electricity that heralded a storm rolling in over the ranch—a storm that promised to change the landscape in its wake. And as I looked into Walker’s eyes, I realized that perhaps I was ready for a little thunder.
Outside, the moon cast a silver glow that crept through the curtains, adding to the surreal feeling that tonight wasn’t just any night. That I wasn’t just any version of myself.
“Are you cold?” Walker asked, his voice low and laced with an undercurrent of something new. It was concern mixed with the kind of anticipation that makes your heart beat in double-time.
“No,” I replied, my answer more breath than word. I’d felt my nipples harden, which is why he asked. But it had nothing to do with the temperature.
Walker’s fingers—those same hands that had soothed many a spooked horse—trailed along my arm with a tenderness that belied their roughness. He treated me like something precious, and it was both empowering and disarming.
As his touch grew bolder, tracing the outline of my collarbone, there was a reverence in his actions that made me feel cherished. Not like the inexperienced woman I saw myself as, but as someone who deserved to be explored and discovered. The heat from his fingertips seemed to seep into my skin, lighting paths of fire that pulsed in time with my racing pulse.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmured, his blue eyes reflecting the moonlight and searching mine for any sign of discomfort.
But discomfort was galaxies away from what I was feeling. Each stroke of his hand awakened parts of me that had lain dormant, unacknowledged by anyone else’s touch. There was no rush in his movements; it was as though he understood the weight of this moment—the shedding of old insecurities and the slow build of something new.
I could see the patience in him, the same kind he’d need for training a young colt, guiding it with a firm yet gentle hand. My body responded to him with an eagerness that surprised me, each new caress eliciting a soft gasp or a shiver that only encouraged him further.
“Good?” he asked, his voice husky as his fingers traced lower, mapping the curve of my waist before venturing to the dip of my hip.
“More than good,” I whispered back, my words getting lost in the thickening air that now seemed to buzz with energy. His touch was skilled, yes, but it was also exploratory, as if we were on this journey together, learning the language of my desire note by note.
The rhythm of our breaths became a duet, rising and falling with the intensity of our movements. His hands, those of a ranch hand seasoned by labor and love for the land, roamed with a surprising gentleness over the landscape of my skin. He undressed me, touching, kissing, licking his way over my body and I didn’t think I’d ever felt anything more decadent .
“Caroline,” Walker’s voice was a low drawl, riding each exhale, “you okay?”
“More than,” I managed to reply, my voice quivering like the leaves on the old oak out by the paddock on a windy day. In this small town where my life had come full circle, I never imagined finding myself here, with him, feeling like the heroine in the novels I’d been devouring.
Walker’s movements grew more deliberate, but soon he stopped altogether. I opened my eyes to find him ripping his clothes off and sheathing himself in a condom.
“You ready for this, darlin’?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
He climbed on top of me, his hard cock throbbing between us.
“Lift your legs up. That’s good.” He reached down and touched me, teasing his fingers in and out of me. “God, this pussy is so wet for me, isn’t it? You’re ready for my cock.”
That wasn’t a question. I was.
“I’m gonna give it to you nice and slow at first. Get you used to my size, okay?”
“Okay.” I’d known Walker was on the larger end of the spectrum, but I hadn’t stopped to consider it might hurt. But as he pushed inside me, it didn’t hurt. I felt a deep pressure, a moment of shock as he filled me in a way I’d never experienced. But as he started backing out again, as he started moving his hips, I gasped at the pleasure of it.
“Oh my god, this feels good.”
“Yeah?” he asked with a smirk.
“Yes.”
“Good. Wrap your legs around me.”
I did, and felt him sink in even deeper.
The pleasure was electrifying, a strange mix of fullness and emptiness, as though he was both filling me and leaving a void at the same time. It was an odd sensation, one that I couldn’t quite put into words. I closed my eyes and let the feeling wash over me, letting the rhythm of his movements become my own.
Walker’s hands cupped my face, pulling me into a deep, passionate kiss. Our tongues danced together, each movement mirroring the rhythm of his thrusts. I felt as though my entire world was composed of nothing but him and the pulsing of his thrusts, my body arching to meet him each time he pulled out and then plunged back inside.
“Tell me what you need,” he murmured, his breath warm against my ear.
“Keep going,” I breathed, surprised at my own boldness. My hands found the firm muscles of his back, tracing the lines of strength and resilience that had been carved from years of shouldering responsibility. I dug my fingernails into his skin on instinct.
“Goddamn,” he grunted, thrusting harder. “This pussy feels so fucking good. Keep moving your hips like that. Fuck, just like that.”
He kept going, bringing me closer and closer to the edge, then held off pushing me over, switching positions to show me something new. He took me from behind, he fucked me up against the wall, he rested my legs on his shoulders and drove into me so deeply, I almost couldn’t breathe.
And every single moment was heaven.
Soon, he reached his hand down to circle my clit as he thrusted over and over. I felt myself getting close, and I knew he was too from the stiffening of his muscles and the way his movements became erratic.
“I want this cunt to come all over my cock,” he said, shocking me to my core, but his words were just what I needed to be pushed over that edge.
A moment later, as if the universe had conspired to lead us to this single point in time, we reached the climax together. It swept over me like a tsunami as he pumped one last time, as deep as he could.
He groaned as he shot his release into the condom, his cock twitching inside me.
“Caroline,” Walker called out my name like it was a prayer, or perhaps a vow, as we clung to each other. His light blue eyes, which had always held a glimmer of mischief, now reflected something deeper, something that resonated within the hollows of my heart.
The weight of the world seemed to evaporate like morning mist over the fields as we lay there, intertwined in a cocoon of rumpled sheets that still held the warmth of our joined bodies. I could hear Walker’s steady heartbeat beneath my ear, a soothing rhythm that anchored me to the here and now.
“Wow,” I breathed out, a laugh bubbling up from somewhere deep inside—a place that had been untouched, unexplored until Walker’s patient touch coaxed it into the light. My fingers traced idle patterns on his chest, feeling the rise and fall with each breath he took. “I had no idea it could be like this.”
Walker’s arm tightened around me, his hand splayed wide across my back. “Glad I could show you, darlin’,” he drawled, his voice low and husky, threaded with the remnants of our shared passion.
“Thank you, Walker,” I murmured, the gratitude spilling forth before I could catch it. The words felt too small for the enormity of what he had given me, but they were all I had.
His chuckle was warm against my hair. “No need to thank me, Caroline. It was my pleasure—quite literally.” His teasing tone couldn’t mask the tenderness that lingered in his eyes when I looked up at him.
It was a strange sensation, this vulnerability mixed with an unfamiliar contentment. I felt exposed, but safe with him.
“Still,” I insisted softly, “I’m grateful.”
“Grateful, huh?” His fingers traced the line of my jaw, sending shivers down my spine despite the lingering heat between us. “Well, just remember, this isn’t a one-time offer. Exploring . . . it’s a journey, not a destination.”
“Sounds like something one of the romance novel heroes would say,” I teased, trying to ease the intensity of the moment. But his gaze held mine, steadfast and sure.
“Maybe so,” he replied, his thumb brushing across my lower lip. “But some truths are universal, aren’t they?”
In that simple touch, I found reassurance and a promise of more—more laughter, more discovery, more moments where the world fell away, leaving only the connection that pulsed quietly between us. Yet, even as my heart whispered about possibilities, my mind shied away from fully embracing them. It was safer, easier, to remember that this was an arrangement, and enjoying it too much would only hurt me in the end.
“Universal truths,” I echoed, allowing myself a small smile as I snuggled closer to him, the scent of leather and sunshine that always clung to him now mingled with my own. In the gentle caress of his hand along my spine, I found a comfort that was both exhilarating and terrifying.
“Caroline?” Walker’s voice was soft, almost hesitant.
“Hmm?”
“Promise me something?”
“Anything. ”
“Promise me you won’t forget this—how you feel right now. No matter what happens.”
I nodded against him, the weight of his request settling in my chest like a stone in a riverbed—solid, enduring, shaping the current of my thoughts.
“I promise,” I said, knowing full well that some promises couldn’t be kept. I only hope this wasn’t one of them.