Chapter 8 Cole
CHAPTER EIGHT
COLE
Reine’s hips sway in front of me as she stomps through the frost grass, and for a second, all I can think about is how damn good she’d look wearing nothing but my flannel shirt and a smile.
Instead, I have to settle for watching her ass in tight jeans as we cross the yard. Pure torture. I almost groan out loud.
She doesn’t slow down, just tosses a look over her shoulder like she’s daring me to keep up. Challenge accepted, Montana. I match her stride, boots thumping behind hers, doing my best not to haul her back against me and press my mouth to that stubborn jaw.
Inside the barn, it’s all dust motes and the heavy smell of horses and leather. Reine walks into the ranch office and sits down behind the desk. I lean against the door, arms crossed, just to admire her.
“What would you like me to do?” She doesn’t look up, just flips through a stack of paperwork like she’s too busy for my shit. “Thunderbolt needs his stall spruced up. If you’re feeling useful.”
I can’t help grinning. “You’re in luck, sweetheart. I know my way around a manure fork.” My Texas drawl thickens on purpose, just to see if I can make her blush.
She rolls her eyes, but her lips twitch. “Then get to it, Texas.”
Fuck, I love a woman who gives as good as she gets. I push off the door and stride down the aisle, boots thudding and muscles itching to work. Thunderbolt flicks an ear and gives me a look like he’s not sure if he approves of my existence. Yeah, same, buddy.
I grab the pitchfork and roll up my sleeves before attacking Thunderbolt’s stall.
Thunderbolt gives me a look that says, “Don’t fuck up my house, useless,” and tosses his mane like he’s the king of the barn.
“Relax, big guy,” I mutter. “I’m just making it sparkle for my girl.
” He snorts in approval. I swear he knows what’s up.
Smart fucker. I work up a sweat scooping out every last speck of manure.
By the time I’m done, my shirt clings to my back, and my arms are on fire.
I flex my biceps just for the hell of it, then glance toward the office.
Reine’s watching me. She thinks I can’t tell, but I can feel her blue eyes crawling all over me like a brand.
Fucking hell, if she stares any harder, my cock is going to punch straight through my jeans.
I wipe sweat from my brow and lean on the pitchfork, giving her a little show. “All clean, Montana. Want to come inspect my handiwork?” I toss her my best shit-eating grin.
She stands in the doorway, arms crossed over that perfect chest, a smile twitching on her lips like she’s fighting the urge to laugh at me. “You planning on admiring yourself all morning, or do you want to grab new bedding for Thunderbolt?”
God, I love this woman. The meaner she is, the harder my cock gets. I want to drag her into an empty stall and have my way with her. Fucking hell. I can just picture it.
Reine’s legs wrapped around my waist, her soft little moans echoing in my ear as I bury myself so deep inside her she forgets her own name. She’s got no clue how close I am to tossing her over my shoulder and dragging her gorgeous ass off to the first room I can find.
Instead, I grab a bale of fresh bedding and haul it over like it’s nothing. Thunderbolt watches me with murder in his eyes, but I just laugh and toss the straw around until the stall is four-star comfy.
“Ready for inspection, boss lady.” I lean on the pitchfork and give her my best cocky grin, flexing just a little because I know she’s watching.
Reine lifts her chin, all attitude and sass, and stalks over like she owns the place.
Her eyes run up and down my body, and fuck me, if she isn’t checking me out just as hungrily as I’m checking her out.
Her eyes drag down my chest, linger on my arms, and goddamn if her tongue doesn’t dart out to lick her bottom lip when she hits my abs.
My cock throbs hard, and I’m glad my tight jeans help hide the evidence.
She steps into the stall, chin up, blue eyes sparking like she’s daring me to make the first move. Challenge fucking accepted.
“Not bad, Texas,” Reine murmurs, dragging her fingers along the fresh straw. Her voice is pure sin. “I can tell you’ve done this before.”
I close the gap between us in two steps, crowding her against the stall wall. The scent of her shampoo mixes with horses and leather, and it’s fucking intoxicating. I cage her in with my arms and lean down so my mouth is just a breath from hers.
“There’re tons of things I can do with my hands.” My voice drops low, hungry. “You want a demonstration?”
She sucks in a sharp breath. Her chest rises against my shirt, nipples hard and begging for my mouth. I steal the gap between us, pressing my body tight to hers. “All you gotta do is say please, Montana.”
She lets out this shaky little laugh, but her eyes are glazed, pupils blown wide. Fuck. She wants me almost as much as I want her. Almost.
“Please,” she whispers. The sound barely makes it past her lips, but it’s all I need.
I crush my mouth to hers, devouring her soft lips, my tongue demanding entry.
She opens for me, greedy, and I fucking lose it.
My hands cup her jaw, then slide down to grip her ass, and I use my hold to pull her flush against my cock.
She moans, digging her nails into my arms, sending a bolt of pain straight to my balls.
Fuck. I want her so badly my head spins.
I drag her up the wall, letting her legs hitch around my waist. Fuck, that’s exactly where they belong.
I press her into the rough wood and slam my mouth back onto hers, grinding my cock against her heat through our jeans.
I’m dying to rip off every layer between us and bury myself inside her, but I want to savor every second.
I want her wild and desperate, trembling with need.
I roll my hips, letting her feel exactly how hard she’s got me. She moans into my mouth, grabbing onto my shoulders so tightly she’s probably leaving marks. Good. I want to wear her marks every fucking day.
Her hair comes loose from that messy ponytail, wild around her face as she rocks against me.
God, she’s perfect. My hands slide up her sides, under her shirt, skimming the soft skin of her waist. She shivers when my palms glide up over her ribs.
Her breath hitches as my thumbs brush the underside of her bra.
“Need you,” she whispers, voice shredded to ribbons. Fuck. That’s all I need to lose my mind.
“Hell fucking yes.” I trail my mouth along her jaw, planting hot, open-mouthed kisses down her neck.
She tastes like heaven mixed with a little bit of sin.
My hands slide higher, rough palms dragging her shirt up.
Her skin is soft and hot under my touch.
I yank her flannel over her head and toss it onto a pile of hay.
Her tight little tank top is next. I tear it off like the animal I am, baring her sweet tits and biting down a groan when I see her nipples pushing hard against the black lace of her bra.
“You’re so fucking perfect, Montana. I’m not sure how you expect me to control myself when you look like that.” My voice turns to gravel, desperate and raw.
Reine gasps as I close my mouth over her nipple, sucking it through the lace and tugging just enough to make her hips jerk against my cock.
I swear to God, I’m about to lose my goddamn mind.
But then the main barn door creaks open, and someone’s boots strike closer.
Fuck. Reine shoves at my chest, cheeks flushed and eyes wild.
“Rain check,” she hisses, her voice so wrecked it nearly undoes me.
“Hell,” I grumble, but I help her scramble down and watch as she drags her flannel shirt on and shoves her white tank top under the bale of hay, her fingers shaking so bad I want to laugh and groan at the same time.
My cock is throbbing, my head swimming with everything I want to do to her, but I bite down my frustration and try to look halfway normal.
She smooths her hair back, giving me a look that promises I’ll pay for this later.
I can’t wait. Reine spins on her heel, cheeks blazing and hair wild, as the barn door creaks wide and old Louise stomps in.
My cock is still hard enough to dent steel, but I grit my teeth and grab the pitchfork like I’m just Mr. Responsible, shoveling straw and totally not thinking about bending her granddaughter over a hay bale.
Louise gives us a sharp look, but if she notices my shirt is half untucked and Reine’s breathing like she just ran a marathon, she doesn’t say a damn word. Instead, she stalks over to the stall, eyes narrowed, and gives Thunderbolt a quick once-over.
“Looks good,” she grumbles, but I catch the tiniest hint of a smirk when her eyes flick from me to Reine. If this is a warning, I don’t give a shit. Nothing will come between Reine and me.
“We’re just finishing up chores,” I tell Louise, my voice a little rough. If she notices how wrecked Reine looks, she doesn’t let on. She just nods, gives Thunderbolt’s stall a once-over, and heads back toward the office, boots thudding on the wood.
I wait until the sound of Louise’s footsteps fades, then spin Reine around and pin her to the wall, my lips brushing her ear. “You’re killing me, Montana. One more minute in here and I’m going to lose my damn mind.”
She laughs, breathless, but shoves at my chest like she’s not seconds from melting all over again. “You’re the one who started this, Texas.”
“And I plan on finishing it, too.” I run my tongue along her jaw, loving the way she shudders.