Chapter Twenty One #2
“I love the rain.”
The words hit me like a brick to the skull. I blink, dragging myself back to the moment—just in time to stop myself from rutting against her on the back of a goddamn horse.
I clear my throat, voice like sandpaper. “What’s that?”
“I said I love the rain.”
“Why?” I ask, eyes locked on the way tiny stray curls spring from her destroyed braid.
“I love the way it makes me feel.”
“Wet?” I ask, low and teasing.
She laughs, soft and throaty, and mutters, “Not as wet as I am right now.”
My arm tightens on instinct. “You can’t say shit like that. I’m barely hanging on by a thread.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“We talked about this. Saying it didn’t happen doesn’t make it true.”
“Yes it does,” she huffs.
I roll my eyes, palm stroking her heavy jacket, every ounce of me mad it’s in the way. “Fine. You didn’t say anything.”
“I know.”
“I’m still thinking about the words you didn’t say , though,” I whisper against the crook of her neck. “You can pretend all you want, but it’s burned into my fuckin’ brain now.”
She exhales sharply. A little whimper escapes—and it nearly ends me.
Then she moves. Subtle at first. A shift of her hips. Maybe keeping time with the horse. Maybe not.
Silence falls between us, but soon enough, she does it again, bumping the hard ridge of my cock digging into her back.
There’s no way she can’t feel it, right?
“Tell me about the rain, freckles,” I rough out, teeth gritted.
She swallows hard, breath hitching as she leans deeper into me until not an ounce of space is between our bodies—her back to my chest, head tipped on my shoulder, ass digging directly in my groin.
God, I might actually come in my fucking jeans.
“I…” She wets her lips. “I used to live in the country for a few years when I was a teenager.”
Her voice is barely there—breathy and soft, almost like she’s trying to distract herself from how close my hand is to the button of her jeans, or the way opening up to me makes her feel raw, something I understand way too much.
“The country, huh?” I smile into her hair, inhaling her wild scent. “Knew you were hiding a cowgirl in there.”
“No you didn’t.” She scoffs. “You called me a city girl. Repeatedly .”
I swallow hard, thumb pushing up under her jacket. When she doesn’t stop me, I drag that finger up and down, up and down, then add the rest of my hand. My palm slides against her soft bare skin, and based on the reaction my body has, you’d think I’m palming her dripping pussy instead.
“And you thought I was a deadbeat alcoholic,” I murmur, swallowing hard. “Guess we were both wrong.”
She giggles, and her hips move again, only instead of rolling, they curve up, closer to my hand. The tip of my fingers dip beneath the edge of her jeans and we both suck in a breath.
“Tell me about the rain, Georgia.”
“I loved the quiet of the country,” she says softly, breath hitching when I slip in an inch. “The space. But the storms were so big, and they scared me.”
“Keep going.”
I sink in another inch and pause, thumb stroking, dick rocking against the saddle—rocking against her , because I’m losing my mind here.
She hesitates, so I do too.
“Because they’d come out of nowhere. And when you’re small… and everything in your life keeps changing… you start to think storms mean something bad’s coming.”
Fuck.
My chest tightens, but I stay quiet. Let her keep going. My hand stops moving, but my thumb doesn’t, passing back and forth in soothing strokes.
“But after, there was always something beautiful. A rainbow. The air felt clean. New.” She smiles. “I love rainbows the most.”
The horse has slowed to a crawl. The wind picks up just enough to mist our faces, and there’s a drop clinging to her lashes.
She’s stunning. Glowing. The most beautiful thing I’ve ever fucking seen—and I’ve been all over the damn world.
“Rainbows are pretty,” I agree, eyes locked on her profile, throat tight. “But there are things in the world way more breathtaking than a stroke of colors.”
“It’s not that,” she says breathily, swiveling her hips in an impossible circle, like she’s begging me to keep going. “You can hang your wishes on a rainbow.”
“And dandelions. Do you love those too?”
She smacks my thigh, and her hand stays there, gripping tight enough to bruise. I choke out a groan, and she shudders against me.
“I make wishes on everything.” She says the words like they’re a dirty secret. “Stars and pennies, birthday candles and rainbows. I never miss one.”
“That’s adorable,” I admit, slipping my hand further until my fingers are dancing across the seam of her panties.
Christ, I can feel how hot she is, and I haven’t even reached her pussy yet.
“Kade,” she breathes, rolling her hips, whimpering up a storm. “ Kade .”
“Your wet little pussy feel good against that saddle?” I tease. “I bet this whole ride had you seconds from coming all over yourself, didn’t it?”
“You—” She breaks off, biting her lip hard. “You have an incredibly filthy mouth.”
“Tell me to stop then, baby,” I whisper, lips brushing her neck, inhaling hard, imprinting her and this moment into my senses. “Swear to God, I didn’t drag you to my horse for this, Georgia, but Christ.” I groan. “You in my arms, fucking hell , you fit perfect against me.”
“I…know…it’s so annoying.” A throaty, quiet moan has her head shaking back and forth. “I… oh fuck. What is happening right now?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes…no…I don’t know.”
“You don’t have to know a damn thing right now. Just have to let go.”
Her head bobs as she chokes, “Just let go. I can do that.”
“Yeah, baby,” I murmur, wondering when that name started feeling so easy for a woman I claim to hate. “You can.”
I rock against her ass, and her nails dig into me as she moves with me, creating a steady rhythm that quickly has me losing all sense of right and wrong.
My lips ghost the side of her throat, pressing soft, teasing kisses.
I scrape my teeth down her pulse, feeling the way it bounces under my lips, and she shivers.
“Shaking already? We haven’t even gotten to the good part yet.”
My fingers dip another millimeter, meeting bare, warm flesh and promises of ecstasy. Her head shakes back and forth with a restless, needy exhale.
“Kade…”
“Getting mighty damn addicted to you saying my name like that,” I say against her skin. She’s so soft. So sweet.
“Kade, I can’t..”
Another inch, and holy hell, she’s right there, and my mind is a thousand miles away, and yet rooted deep in all that is her .
“We have to stop.”
“I know…” I freeze. “Wait, what?”
Her hand falls away as she exhales hard, turning slowly to face me, eyes glassy, cheeks flushed, hair a wild mess of drenched, muddy curls slipping from her braid—she’s never looked prettier.
But the seriousness and disappointment in her eyes, has me slipping my hand from her jeans and my throat constricting.
“Sorry,” she breathes. “For the whiplash. I got carried away.”
“ We got carried away.” Brushing a stray curl from her jaw, I nod, smiling softly. “This ain’t our moment, freckles. If it’s meant to be, we’ll know it when it comes.”
She bites her lip hard, face tight. “It would be so easy to fall for you, Kade Archer, but I’m not the kind of girl who hooks up on the back of a horse with guys who aren’t…”
When she doesn’t finish, I tilt my head and squeeze her hand. “Aren’t what, darlin’?”
A breathe, and then… “ Mine .”
The word is so simple, and yet I’ve never hated four letters so much.
And I hate them, because she’s right.
I don’t know what the hell we’re doing, or what I want, what she wants, but my hand down her pants before I’ve even tasted her sweet mouth ain’t it.
Georgia Walker isn’t an easy lay, or a quick fuck from a few towns over.
She’s not a dirty secret to hide for a few stolen moments in a mud-filled pasture.
She’s more. So damn much more.
A single lash slips down her cheek when she blinks, catching in the curve just above her smile. Without thinking, I reach up and catch it before the wind can steal it away.
She jerks, breath catching as her cheeks flush pink. “Mud?”
I hold the lash between my fingers. Her words about wishes are still fresh in my mind, sticky like honey I can’t shake loose. And maybe I’m desperate to bring back her smile from a few minutes ago.
Maybe I’m just desperate for that smile to be because of me .
“Make a wish, darlin’.”
Georgia’s eyes go wide, then glassy. A myriad of emotions flash across her face, ones I’m not prepared for. Shock, sadness, something that looks a lot like hope.
Her gaze drifts to the lash and her lids flutter closed. One heartbeat is all it takes before she’s leaning forward, lips pursed, and gently blowing the lash away, the ghost of a smile gracing her pretty face.
When her eyes slowly flutter open and lock on mine, a single tear is ghosting down her pale cheek, blending into the pre-storm dew.
“Fuck it,” she chokes out.
And then, God help me, Georgia Walker’s mouth crashes into mine.
It’s soft, sweet—like something holy.
For a heartbeat, I freeze. My body’s locked with the shock of it, adrenaline pounding so hard I see stars. But that single breath, that first inhale of her, snaps the world into motion.
My hand flies to her jaw, gripping gently but firm, holding her exactly where I want her.
Where I’ve wanted her since the second she stormed into my life, full of fire and fury and the kind of hurt I know too damn well.
My other arm cinches tight around her waist, anchoring her to me in the saddle, chest to chest, heart to goddamn heart.
She tastes like rain and wind and whatever the hell joy must feel like in your mouth.
Her hands are everywhere she can reach at the awkward angle—fisting in my jacket, tugging my hair, digging into my thighs like she’s trying to climb inside my skin.
It's wild and messy and a little unhinged—and Christ, it’s perfect.
The horse shifts beneath us, but neither of us flinch. We’re locked in, consumed and completely lost.
I lick into her mouth, claiming her the way I’ve dreamed about for weeks, and she whimpers, soft and needy, and fuck if that sound doesn’t short-circuit my brain. I kiss her like she’s oxygen. Like this is the only chance I’ll ever get, because maybe it is.
Because in a few months, she still might walk away.
Because I sure as hell don’t deserve her—but God, I want her anyway.
She kisses like it means something. Like it’s not just heat, but hope. Like every flick of her tongue is a secret, and every brush of her lips is a confession she’ll never say out loud.
My hand slides from her jaw to the back of her neck, fingers threading through her damp curls. My forehead drops to hers, both of us breathing like we’ve just survived a war.
“Baby,” I rasp, voice torn to shreds. I bite her bottom lip, pull it between my teeth, suck hard because I can’t not. “Christ, darlin’. I’m not gonna survive you, am I?”
She goes still.
Then she jolts back—taking her warmth, her sweetness, and the entire damn world with her.
My eyes snap open. Hers follow a second later.
And just like that… she’s gone.
Not physically. She’s still on this damn horse, still close enough to touch. But the girl I kissed, the one I’m stupidly falling for, has vanished. And in her place is that icy mask I fuckin’ hate.
“This…” She shakes her head, pale and shaken, refusing to meet my eyes. “This can’t happen.”
“Hate to break it to you,” I say, jaw ticking, heart pounding, “but it already did.”
“Well, it was a mistake.”
“The hell it was.”
Her gaze finally locks with mine—and it’s the pain in it, the sheer terror, that shuts me the fuck up.
“Take me back,” she whispers. “I need to go back. Right now.”
She turns before I can answer, inching away like every molecule between us burns. But I see the tight swallow. The tension in her shoulders.
And when I guide Dusty back toward the house, I don’t miss the tears slipping down her flushed cheeks.
What the fuck just happened? And why does it feel like I ruined the one good thing I never really had?