Chapter 12 Eric
E mma’s arms cross over her chest, her gaze unflinching and chin lifted in defiance. "Why don't we lock you up in a stable and leave you there all day? Shadow needs air, socialization, exercise?—"
I drag a hand through my hair, trying to rein in the surge of emotion clawing through my chest. "She goes out on walks in the paddock."
"Walks," she scoffs. "You should know better. Horses need more than a paddock. Look at her." She gestures toward Shadow, who stands beside Dash, their noses brushing in an easy, unbothered way. "She’s fine. Why can’t she be out with the other horses?"
"Because she’s unpredictable." My voice drops, tight with restraint. "And your brothers would skin me alive if anything happened to you."
Her eyes flash with bright irritation. She steps closer, pushing into my space until her mouth is within my reach. The air between us crackles, and my lip twitches.
"I can handle myself," she bites out, her finger jabbing into my chest. "I don’t need you or my brothers telling me what to do."
Shit.
"Dammit, Emma." My hands curl into fists at my sides. "Shadow’s feisty. She sets her mind to something and doesn’t back down." I shake my head, exhaling sharply. "She’s just like you."
Emma’s lips part. She’s so close I can feel the warmth of her body against mine. All I have to do is lower my lips to hers to shut her up. The tension threads between us like an invisible rope, pulling me in.
"Emma," I murmur, my voice raw.
Her name barely leaves my lips before I give in, my hands framing her face, tilting her up to meet me. I crash my mouth against hers, kissing her like I need her breath to survive. She melts into me, soft and sweet, her hands gripping the back of my shirt like she never wants to let go. She gives in like a good girl, and my fingers find the small of her back, pulling her flush against my chest. I swallow the soft moan that escapes her lips.
Desire licks up my spine, coiling low in my stomach. If she were mine—really mine—this is where we’d use sex to fix everything. We’d tear the frustration and unspoken words into shreds. I can picture Emma tangled in my sheets, her laughter filling my house, her body pressed against mine, and every inch of her surrendering beneath me. Having Emma in my life would mean countless adventures and late nights in bed. She would beg for my forgiveness, and I would give in every time she mouthed a word.
The addictive taste of her eager lips forces her every exhale and every moan down my throat as her fingers trail down my back, nails scratching, sending fire through my veins. She’s intoxicating. And I’m drowning.
Then her hands find my belt, and reality slams back in.
I break the kiss, stepping away even though every part of me wants to pull her right back in.
"Fuck, Emma." My breath is ragged, and my pulse thunders through my body. "I shouldn’t have done that."
Emma stands there, breathless and flushed, her lips parted as if she’s still tasting me. Her eyes, wide and searching, are filled with questions I can’t answer. Hell, I don’t even know the answers myself. My pulse pounds in my ears, my blood rushing south, and if I don’t get out of here now, I’m going to lose the last thread of control I’m clinging to.
I step back, run a hand through my hair, and let out a rough exhale.
The river. I need the river.
Unbuckling my belt, I toe off my boots, yank down my jeans and socks, then pull my shirt over my head and fix my sights on the water.
"Eric?" Emma’s voice is laced with confusion, but I can’t stop.
I take off, sprinting toward the river, dodging Dash and Shadow as they graze without a care. The moment my body crashes into the icy water, the shock snaps me back into myself. Cold relief drowns out the heat raging under my skin, but it lasts all of three seconds before I come up for air and turn around.
And that’s when I see her.
Emma wades into the river in nothing but a sheer white bra and panties.
Fuck me.
She moves toward me, the water swirling around her thighs, her arms wrapped around herself. Her nipples pebble against the soaked fabric, and I’m suddenly drowning all over again—just not from the water.
God, give me one good reason to stop this.
"Are you okay?" she asks, her teeth clattering as she steps closer.
No. I’m absolutely not okay.
"I’m fine," I lie, forcing my gaze away from the way her wet undergarments cling to her skin.
"Then why did you kiss me like that?"
I rub a hand over my face, inhaling deeply. "To shut you up," I snap. Instant regret coils in my chest. "Shit. I’m sorry. I’m just…frustrated."
Her brows knit together. "Why are you frustrated?"
Because I can't stop thinking about kissing you. Because you make me fucking crazy. Because every damn time I try to put distance between us, you step closer.
"Because you don’t listen to me." I grit my teeth. "And because I’ve been thinking about kissing you all damn day."
Her lips part slightly. "All day?"
"Yeah, all day."
"So… It wasn’t just for Harvest Fest? It wasn’t just practice?"
I shake my head. "No, Emma. It wasn’t."
Her gaze locks onto mine, her eyes searching, pushing past every wall I try to keep up. "Then why did you do it?"
"I wanted to kiss you," I admit, my voice rough. "For me."
She tilts her head. "And?"
"And what?"
"How did you like kissing me? For yourself?"
I swallow hard as my resolve unravels. "I liked it."
Her lips twitch. "But?"
I exhale slowly, my shoulders dropping. "But it wasn’t enough."
She moves in before I can stop her, pressing her hands against my chest, tracing a slow path up to my neck. The heat of her touch brands me, sending a shudder down my spine.
Then, she lifts up, her body fitting perfectly against mine, her legs wrapping around my waist like she belongs there.
"Then kiss me again," she whispers against my lips.
My hands slide beneath her ass on instinct, gripping the curves that fit so damn perfectly in my palms. The weight of her, the way she clings to me and wraps herself around me like she belongs there, send a bolt of heat straight through me. Every nerve in my body is on fire as my dick hardens.
She’s pressed against me, her breath mingling with mine, her soft body molding to my hard edges like we were made for this exact moment. A flicker of hope and hunger flashes in her eyes.
I can’t think and I don’t second-guess.
I lean in.
Our lips meet, tentative at first, like a question neither of us knows how to ask. I drag my tongue along her bottom lip, tasting her, and teasing her. She opens for me with a soft sigh. That sound. Fuck. It unravels every last shred of restraint I have left.
I deepen the kiss, swallowing her into me, letting her warmth drown out every reason why this shouldn’t be happening. Her fingers grip my shoulders, nails biting into my skin as she holds on, anchoring herself to me. Water laps around us, waist-deep and forgotten as I lose myself in the feel of her.
My hands roam her back, tracing the delicate curve of her spine. I should stop. I know I should stop. But I don’t.
Because I don’t want to.
Because for the first time in my life, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be—with her.
I want Emma. I want her in my arms, in my bed, and in my ropes.
I’m falling for her.
And there’s nothing to break the landing.
We break apart, gasping. Her lips are swollen, and her pupils blown wide. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her look more beautiful.
"We shouldn’t…" My voice is hoarse and half-hearted, the words tasting like a lie even as I force them out.
She blinks up at me, breathless. "You're right. We got carried away." A small smile tugs at her lips, teasing. "You think Grandpa would have believed it?"
I swallow hard.
I believed it.
I brush my thumb over her cheek, my voice softer now. "Yeah, Grandpa would have believed it."
Her skin is warm beneath my touch, and I hate the regret twisting in my gut. "I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier. I didn’t mean to lose my cool."
Her gaze searches mine. "Are you sorry for the kiss too?"
I don’t even hesitate. "No." My voice drops to a whisper, rough and raw. "I'm not sorry."
Her breath catches, her eyes flicking to my mouth, but then she tilts her head, playful again. "Then what happens if my brothers find out?"
Shit.
"They won’t," I murmur.
She shivers, and slowly, reluctantly, unwinds her legs from around me, sinking back into the river.
“Oh, that feels mushy,” she mutters, wrinkling her nose.
I smirk. "Step two feet toward the shore. There’s sand there."
As she moves closer, the waterline drops, revealing the soaked fabric clinging to her body. I reach out, brushing my thumb over the streak of ash on her forehead, and wipe it away. "Why are you covered in soot? Where were you?"
Her body stiffens.
She looks up with fire flashing in her eyes. "I'll tell you after you explain why you never told me Huntz lived north of here."
Fuck.
Huntz. Again.
The moment between us shatters, the heat replaced with frustration. Hers and mine. It shimmers in the air, heavy and unspoken, swirling around us like the river current pulling at our legs. I clench my jaw, forcing myself to hold her gaze.
I wish she could see what I see. That Huntz isn’t the problem. That she doesn’t need to dig into the past. But Emma? She never lets things go.
"You went to the ruins?" The rumble in my voice shakes through my chest.
Emma nods, her expression unreadable.
I glance down, catching the slick sheen on her fingers.
“There’s fresh food in the house," she says.
I grip her wrist, lifting her damp hand to my nose. The unmistakable scent of oil clings to her skin. "And why the hell do you smell like oil?" My disapproval is clear, but the glint in her eyes tells me she likes it. She likes me noticing and likes pushing boundaries.
"If your brothers knew the trouble you were getting into," I murmur, letting go of her wrist, "they’d personally dig my grave."
Her hesitation is brief, but I don’t miss it. Then, just like that, she switches gears, sliding her hand up my chest, her touch featherlight but deliberate.
“Do you intend to stir up more trouble with me?” she whispers, her fingers dragging lower, skimming the waistband of my boxer-briefs. “Because you could have everything my brothers don’t want you to have, right here, right now.”
Her other hand glides up my thigh, dangerously close to my dick, teasing, taunting. I should pull away. I should say something to shut this down before I lose control.
Instead, I play along.
“Oh yeah?” My voice dips as I meet her gaze. “And what’s that?”
She tilts her chin up, eyes locked on mine.
“Me.”
I swallow hard.
She’s standing just high enough in the river that we’re nearly eye level, her breath brushing against my lips. It would be so easy. Too easy. One step forward and I could press her up against the nearest tree, kiss her senseless, claim every inch of her the way I’ve wanted to since the moment she bumped into my chest.
"You know," she murmurs, her lips hovering just above mine, "I liked it better when you were kissing me."
She closes the space, her mouth finding mine in a slow, intoxicating kiss. Her tongue slides against mine, sweet and eager, and I’m fucking lost. I grip her waist, pulling her in, every curve of her molding against me. She’s shivering, but it’s not from the cold anymore. My hands drift lower, cupping her ass, pressing her tighter against my aching length.
The water is frigid, but she’s all heat. And I want her—God, I want her.
I should stop.
I won’t stop.
I drag my hands up her back, fingers tracing over damp, chilled skin. Her lips are swollen, kiss-bruised, and I swear, I could spend the rest of my life memorizing the shape of them.
We need to get back.
Before I lay her down in this riverbed and completely forget where we are.
I pull back, resting my forehead against hers. The sun is dipping lower, painting everything in deep golds and fiery reds, casting an almost surreal glow around her. Her teeth chatter, and her lips have taken on a faint purple hue.
"You’re trembling," I say, forcing my pulse to slow. "Let’s go back home."
“Okay,” she whispers.
I take her hand, leading her toward the shore, our bare feet sinking into the wet sand. The contrast between the cold river and the warmth of her skin only makes my blood run hotter.
We reach the shoreline, where our clothes lie in a damp pile.
Emma holds up her jeans, frowning. "I can’t slide these over my wet legs."
“Me neither.” I pick up my shirt and toss it her way. "Put this on. I don’t want you getting sick. I’ll turn on the heater in the stable."
She drops the jeans, slipping her arms into the sleeves as I help her button up. I tug on my boots, trying to focus on anything other than the way my shirt hangs off her shoulders, the way she smells like river water and something distinctly Emma.
She gestures toward the trees lining the shore. "Are those cherry trees?"
"They are." I take her hand again, leading her toward the widest one. "Come here. I want to show you something."
We stop beneath the thickest trunk, where deep carvings etch the bark. I run my fingers over the rough grooves. "These belong to my grandparents, Albert and Estonia. And these," I gesture lower, tracing another set of initials, "belong to my parents, Ethan and Joanne."
Emma reaches out, her fingertips ghosting over the carved hearts. I wonder if she’s imagining where ours would fit, if we were real. If this were real.
"It’s tradition to carve them in on the wedding day," I say, my voice softer than I intend.
She exhales. "That’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen."
She turns to me, eyes shimmering in the fading light. "Generations of love, right here in the bark."
"It’s beautiful in the spring when the cherry blossoms bloom," I tell her. "Whole place turns pink."
She smiles, and for a moment, I forget about the weight pressing down on my chest, the secrets, the lies, the damn expiration date on whatever this is between us.
She fits here, and I want her here. Forever.
I don’t realize how close we are until she tilts her head up, her body instinctively turning into mine. My arms slide around her waist, and she presses her hands flat against my chest.
"You’d fit right in," I murmur, the words slipping out before I can stop them.
Her breath catches, freckles stark against the blush rising in her cheeks until an owl hoots, breaking the moment. Maybe for the best, because if I keep saying shit like that, I might start believing it.
I step back, clearing my throat. "You’re shivering."
She nods.
"Let’s go home."
I take Dash’s rein, my boots squelching in the damp earth. The wet boxer-briefs cling uncomfortably to my skin, but it’s the least of my concerns.
Emma glances sideways at me, biting her lip, trying and failing to stifle a laugh.
"You’re walking back in your underwear?" she teases, her eyes gleaming with mischief.
I shoot her a flat look. "You got something against practicality?"
She smirks but doesn’t answer, her gaze drifting toward the horizon as Shadow pulls against the reins, nudging closer to her.
“She’s fast, isn’t she?” I ask, nodding toward the mare.
Emma strokes Shadow’s neck. “She carried me all the way to the west hill before I even realized where we were heading.”
She points east, a flicker of happiness lighting up her face.
“The east hill? That’s Harper Ranch. Steve mentioned getting a chestnut stallion for Shadow to meet.”
"That’s him! That’s Shadow's man!" She beams, eyes sparkling with excitement. “You should’ve seen them, Eric. The way they nuzzled each other. It was like watching a love story unfold right in front of me.”
I let out a low chuckle, shaking my head. “Four miles away, and she made the trip for love, huh? That damn horse never ceases to surprise me.”
Around us, the land stretches wide and open, a sea of tall grass shifting with the breeze. The horizon is endless, the sky burning with the last embers of daylight. It’s quiet out here, just the wind, the horses, and Emma beside me.
And fuck, if I don’t want to take her right here in the middle of the field.
She could scream as loud as she wants, no walls, no restraints—just her, writhing beneath me, her body arching into mine as I kiss her, touch her, and wreck her. My fingers itch at the thought, my lips aching to taste every inch of her skin.
But I can’t.
Not yet.
Not like this.
"It didn't feel like we rode far." She pulls me back from my dangerous thoughts.
I glance sideways, taking in the curve of her bare leg, and the damp shirt clinging to her body. Jesus.
"Shadow's speed is impressive," I admit, forcing my voice to stay even, "but it doesn't mean you don’t need to be careful. You scared the hell out of me, Ems."
I reach out, tracing a finger along her cheek. She’s still chilled from the water, but her skin warms under my touch.
“I didn’t mean to,” she says softly.
“I know." I pause, swallowing against the lump in my throat. "Promise me something, Ems. Promise you'll always find your way back home.”
The weight of my words hangs between us.
Emma takes my hand, her fingers curling around mine.
"I promise," she whispers.
We don’t let go. We just keep walking, hand in hand, as the herd moves in from the fields, the sky deepening to dusk.
"Your skin is steaming," she notes, her brows pinching in concern.
I smirk. "Because you're making me hot."
Her mouth parts slightly, her expression flickering between confusion and amusement.
"Me?"
"Emma, you're half-naked. And you’re flirting with me."
"So are you," she fires back.
I grin, watching as she folds her arms, trying to look indignant but failing miserably.
"You’re the one who drops his towel all the time," she accuses, narrowing her eyes. "I’m starting to think you do it on purpose. You want me to fall in love with your ab ladder, Hercules shoulders, and a very generous dick."
A deep, rumbling laugh escapes me before I can stop it.
I like this side of her—unfiltered, teasing, completely at ease. And I like that she notices me. Every inch of me.
"Thanks for the compliments"—I smirk, watching her move beside me—"but if we’re talking about who’s the bigger tease, you’re the one in sheer panties, and I’m the one who saved your bedazzled pussy. What would your brothers say if they knew you were a dirty little vixen?"
Emma stops mid-step, tilting her head at me, feigning innocence. "I’m not dirty."
"You’re right. You’re not. You’re a tease with a talent for stripping."
She narrows her eyes, lips twitching. "And what would my brothers say if they knew you were kissing their sister? I once overheard them talking about buying cemetery plots just so they could put my boyfriends’ names on the headstone."
Jesus Christ.
She’s not wrong. I’ve been trying not to think about how much Julian and Tristan will murder me if they ever find out.
"So now you’re worried about your brothers?" I shake my head. "Emma, I have self-control. You’re the one who kissed me."
"Don’t gaslight me. You would’ve kissed me anyway."
I sigh because, yeah, she’s right.
But where is all this kissing leading me? Ranch or Emma? In a few days, she’ll be gone, and I’ll be back to my life, my responsibilities. My debt. The reason I started this whole ruse in the first place.
"You must have learned self-control because of all those ropes and bondage gear I saw in the supply room."
I stop dead in my tracks. Shadow and Dash halt beside us, shifting restlessly.
"You saw my bondage?"
Emma raises her brows. "I promise, I wasn’t snooping. But is there something you’d like to share?"
I exhale slowly, leveling my gaze on her. "Trust and surrender are the cornerstones of bondage," I say, my voice low and deliberate. "It’s about control, yes. But also about letting go. For me, it’s… Invigorating."
Emma processes my words, her fingers brushing against her lips in a way that makes my chest tighten. A soft, "Wow," slips from her mouth, barely more than a breath, but weighted with curiosity.
And when she touches her lips again, I want to kiss her.
"And you do it in the stable?" she asks.
I swallow hard. "No. Not anymore."
"So where do you do it?"
Her curiosity sparks something in me, something dark and thrilling.
"Not in a box. Not with a fox. The equipment you saw is old. Unused. And bondage isn’t for everyone," I add quickly, watching her reaction.
"Because you need trust."
"Correct."
She starts walking, turns to me, and says, "I trust you."
Three simple words, but they hit me like a punch to the gut.
Heat coils low in my stomach, thick and consuming. Her voice, her eyes, the way her lips part just slightly, all fuel the fire raging inside me. I force myself to keep walking, to keep my hands from grabbing her, pulling her into me, and giving her exactly what she’s unknowingly asking for.
The world around us shifts, bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun. The sky burns in streaks of crimson and amber, a breathtaking display that only intensifies everything I’m feeling. It’s like the universe itself is pushing us together, painting the perfect backdrop for the dangerous line we’re toeing.
Emma picks up her pace, that teasing smirk playing at her lips.
"Eric?"
"Yes?"
"Do you plan on kissing me often?"
The question lands hard in my chest. Do I? I already want to. I want to kiss her every damn second I’m around her.
"For as long as you let me," I admit.
She stops, turning to face me fully, her expression unreadable at first, but then her lips curve upward, slow and knowing.
"I’m sorry I scared you by taking Shadow," she says. "But I’m not sorry for taking her out, because it got you upset, and that got you to kiss me."
My mouth quirks. "I would’ve found a way to kiss you, either way."
I step in, lean down, and steal another kiss, just a brush of my lips over hers, but it’s enough to deepen this thing between us. This thing I can’t name.
"You’re good with Shadow," I murmur against her mouth. "You have a connection with her."
"Does that mean I can ride her tomorrow?"
I laugh, shaking my head. "Everyone will be in town by early afternoon, getting ready for Harvest Fest. Mechanical bull riding closes out the evening."
I kiss her again, slow and deliberate, until Shadow nudges her shoulder, breaking us apart. Emma’s laughter echoes across the fields, bright and intoxicating. Her happiness belongs here. Just like she does. We start walking again, and I wonder how the hell I’m supposed to let her go.
The cool night air hums around us as I walk beside Emma. Shadow nudges at her shoulder while Dash follows my lead, our steps slow and unrushed, like we’re savoring every second between us.
"How was lunch with Grandpa?" she asks, glancing sideways at me. "He picked me up for breakfast this morning in Suzy. He’s such a character."
A small smirk tugs at my lips. "Yeah, he is." I hesitate, then add, "He signed the papers. The assets will transfer after Harvest Fest, once we make the announcement."
“That’s really good.” Her voice is warm, but there’s a flicker of something unreadable in her expression.
I nod. "It is. God knows who would’ve bought the ranch if I couldn’t make the payment next week."
“So, we saved it?”
Almost. I’m not counting the blessings until the money’s in the account.
"You saved it." I glance at her, the truth of it settling deep in my chest. "I couldn’t have done it without you."
She tries lifting higher to meet my mouth, but she stumbles, her foot landing in something less than ideal.
"Aw, damn it!" Emma groans, shaking her boot in a futile attempt to clean it.
A laugh rumbles through me as she gags dramatically, hopping on one foot. Before she can faceplant into a pile of manure, I grab her, catching her around the waist. Her body melts against mine, unsteady but trusting.
"This is not good," she mutters, shifting awkwardly in my arms.
"Just hold on. One more—there." I ease off her boots, setting them aside. She wiggles her bare toes, pink nails catching the dim light.
"Get on my back," I tell her. "It’ll be easier this way.”
"What?"
Before she can argue, I toss her up, securing her legs over my waist as she lets out a surprised shriek.
"What are you doing?"
"Piggyback. Just don’t choke me."
“Okay, Horsey,” she teases. Emma settles into my hold, her laughter light against my ear as I walk the last fifty yards to the stable door, letting the horses through the front opening. The remaining herd nears, a mix of nine mares and two stallions moving like shadows in the night.
I adjust my grip on Emma’s thighs, carrying her toward a nearby hay bale. Setting her down gently, I glance toward the stable, already mentally running through my evening routine.
"Wait here," I say, brushing a loose strand of hair from her cheek. "I’ll get the horses settled and be back."
Moving on autopilot, I flick on the heater, aiming it toward Emma’s feet before getting to work. One by one, I lead the horses into their stalls, removing saddles and refilling water buckets. The rhythmic clatter of hooves and soft snorts fill the air as the last of the herd settles in. When I return to Emma, she’s perched atop the hay barrel, her shirt half-unbuttoned, revealing a teasing hint of lace. The dim stable light catches the golden glow of her skin, and my pulse stirs.
Then I see the rope in her hands.
"What’s the rope for?" I ask, standing in front of her, watching her from above.
Her gaze drifts—first to my chest, then lower, slow and deliberate before it lifts to mine and locks on.
"What are you doing, Emma?" My voice drops into something rough, dangerous.
She twists the rope between her fingers, her lips curving into a wicked smile. "Would you be willing to tie me up?"
Heat rushes through me, pooling low, and coiling tight in my balls. I reach for the rope, my pulse hammering. She’s giving me raw and unfiltered trust, and it both exhilarates and terrifies me.
"Are you sure?" I murmur.
She nods. "Very sure."
My grip tightens around the coarse fibers. "Alright."
Everything shifts. The air crackles, thick with anticipation.
"Put your hands together."
She rests her wrists against each other, holding them out, and I loop the rope around them, my fingers grazing over her soft skin. The binding presses into her, but I keep the tension light.
"Is that comfortable?"
“Yes," she breathes, her chest rising and falling, each inhale pressing against the loose fabric of her shirt.
My fingers drift down, tracing the hollow of her throat, feeling the quick, pulsing beat of her heart beneath my touch.
"Good," I whisper.
I lift her arms, trapping her head between them. Her lips part with expectation. I press my mouth to hers, slow and deep, tasting her surrender. She softens, melting against me as I let my hands roam. Slipping beneath her shirt, I skim the delicate swell of her breast. She arches into my touch, and a breathy moan escapes her lips.
"Is this okay?" My voice is barely there.
She lowers her arms. "More than okay." Despite the rope binding her wrists, her fingers fumble with my belt. I grab her hands, stilling them.
"No, darling. This is all about you."
I press a line of kisses down her belly, lowering to my knees and parting her legs. Her sheer panties leave little to the imagination. The heat of her body radiates against my lips as I drag my nose over the fabric, inhaling her scent.
"You smell ready," I murmur against her thigh, scraping my teeth over the cotton, savoring her shudder.
Sweeping her panties aside, I press my tongue to her slick heat, tasting her and teasing her. Her legs tremble as I slide the fabric down, my fingers skimming over the soft, sensitive skin of her inner thighs. She gasps, her tied wrists resting on top of my head, urging me on, but I don’t need the encouragement.
I dip lower, lapping at her folds, drawing out another shaky moan. Then I pull back, watching her. She blinks down at me, lips parted, chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. I slide two fingers into my mouth, coating them, before pressing them gently inside her. Her body clenches, and a strangled yelp slips free.
I still and slowly lift my gaze.
"Emma?"
Her eyes flutter open, hazy, unfocused.
"Yes?"
I swallow hard, my fingers still inside her.
"Are you a virgin?"