Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
SADIE
I can’t believe I asked Wesley to be my summer fling.
Even thinking the words feels unreal, like I temporarily left my own body and let some braver, more audacious version of myself take over.
It was impulsive and reckless and almost definitely a mistake—but after he kissed me, my thoughts scattered completely.
All that remained was the dizzy, impossible want for more.
At the start of summer, I was daydreaming about being Kolson Kennedy’s girlfriend. It was safe, predictable. Something that made sense on paper, even if the reality would’ve eaten me alive.
And now?
Now I’m tangled up with a broody cowboy who looks at me like I’ve both ruined his peace and become the center of it.
It doesn’t make sense.
None of this does.
I’m going to have sex with Wesley.
The thought drops like a stone into my stomach. I try to swallow the weight of it, repeating to myself over and over that it’s not a big deal. We are two consenting adults, engaging in a physically intimate relationship. No senseless feelings, no emotions.
Just sex.
Simple and easy.
Except the word simple has never applied to him, and every time I repeat the words in my head, my chest tightens.
Maybe I should’ve mentioned the small matter of my virgin status, but it shouldn’t be some world-altering revelation. That is the whole point of this—to take off the pressure and just live my life. Virginity is a social construct. It’s just the first time. It’s not that monumental.
And that’s what I’ll keep telling myself until I believe it.
This morning, at breakfast, I kept waiting for him to look at me. Even once. Some small flicker of acknowledgment that last night wasn’t a dream or an accident or something he’s already regretting.
But he never did. Not once. He joked with Emmett, quietly passed the syrup, and kept his gaze anywhere but on me.
And I don’t know why that stings.
I thought maybe last night would shift something between us—start something. But after he agreed, we drove home, said good night, and disappeared behind separate doors. No lingering pause. No low, warm invitation. Not even a soft brush of his mouth against mine.
It shouldn’t matter.
It shouldn’t matter.
It shouldn’t matter.
But it does.
Shouldn’t he…want me? Even a little? Isn’t that the whole point of this arrangement?
Unless he’s rethinking it. Unless he’s already looking for a way out and just hasn’t found the words.
Except that’s not Wesley. If he didn’t want this, he wouldn’t have agreed to it.
So why does it feel like I imagined the whole thing?
Why does the silence feel like an answer I’m not ready to hear?
By the time I drag myself up the porch steps, my body is aching with exhaustion. I didn’t even have a chance to take a lunch break, which means I haven’t seen Lydia yet. Probably for the best—she’d take one look at me and sense I’m keeping a secret from her.
Rule number one: Nobody can know. Not even my best friends.
Keeping a secret this big feels like my skin is tightening around me, hot and itchy. Suffocating.
I’m halfway up the stairs, almost to my room, when Heath calls my name. My stomach drops. A dozen catastrophic possibilities flood my brain—did Wesley tell him? Did he find out my father sent me here to run away from a salacious scandal? Did Lane retaliate and open his mouth about his suspicions?
I swallow the panic and step into the kitchen.
Heath stands at the island chopping carrots and potatoes, his grin wide as ever. The same as Emmett’s and impossible not to love.
“Perfect timing,” he says. “Wanted to run an idea by you.”
My heart vaults into my throat.
Is it finally happening? Is he going to let me lead solo trail rides? I’m desperate to get out of that fucking barn and have one day where I don’t have to scoop up piles of shit.
I brace myself, leaning against the counter. “Okay.”
“Your friends are still coming next week, right?”
Relief washes through me so hard my knees nearly give out. He doesn’t know.
“Yes. Emmett volunteered to drive us to the airport to pick them up.”
“Good,” Heath says, nodding. “A cabin opened up that weekend, so I blocked it off for you girls. Figured you’d all enjoy having your own space.”
My face lights up before I can stop it. “Seriously? Heath, that’s…Wow. Thank you.”
“The only catch is that you’ll be responsible for cleaning it up before the next guests.”
“Of course. Done. Thank you, Heath.”
He waves me off like it’s nothing. “Just a matter of good timing is all. Go and get cleaned up. Dinner’s in twenty.”
Approximately thirty seconds after I’ve stripped out of my jeans, a soft knock sounds at my door. Ugh. I was really hoping to use each and every one of those twenty minutes and stand under the hot water to relieve my aching muscles.
With a groan, I yank the blanket off my bed and wrap it around me, wearing only my bra and underwear beneath the knitted fabric—and the second I crack the door, Wesley slips inside, shutting it firmly behind him with his back.
“Are you insane?” I whisper, incredulous and breathless in the same moment. “What if Emmett—”
“He’s in the shower,” he says, cutting me off and leaning against the door. His damp hair clings to his forehead and the clean scent of his shampoo fills the room.
His eyes rake down my body, slow and purposeful. My skin sparks beneath the plush cover. “What’s with the blanket?”
“I was about to shower,” I mutter, clutching it tighter around me.
“So…” His brow lifts, lazy and lethal. “You’re naked under there?”
My heart thuds and I shake my head. “Not completely. I was…interrupted.”
A smirk curls the corner of his mouth. “What a shame. My sincerest apologies. Please”—his voice dips, teasing and intimate—“continue.”
I inhale a shaky breath.
“Why did you barge into my room?”
“I knocked,” he says easily. “You opened the door. I’d hardly call that barging in. I wanted to make sure nobody saw me. Rule number one, right?”
Shit. He’s right, but there’s no way in hell I’m admitting that to him.
“That still doesn’t answer my question.”
“What question?”
“Why are you in my room, Wesley?”
He tilts his head and something shifts in his expression—small, but unmistakably wild.
“Well, I was under the impression we had…a special arrangement.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one that matters.” His voice roughens. “Unless you changed your mind.”
My stomach flips. “No.”
I never pictured my first time being a secret quickie, let alone with his dad and brother under the same roof. And then having to sit through dinner, pretending nothing happened. Pretending Wesley didn’t deflower me right before we—
He pushes off the door, slowly stalking toward me with a controlled patience that feels more dangerous than if he’d rushed. Every step forces me backward. My heartbeat rises to my throat until I’m backed into the dresser.
“We shouldn’t,” I whisper, the words barely audible.
“I know.” His breath brushes my cheek. “Trust me, I’ve been trying to remember that.”
His gaze drops to my mouth before returning to my eyes, and my body betrays me, leaning into him like I can’t bear another second without touching him.
He slides his hands around the backs of my thighs and lifts me onto the dresser in one fluid, effortless motion.
“Wesley—”
“Shhh,” he murmurs, standing between my knees and sweeping his thumb along my jaw. “Drop the blanket, Sadie baby.”
My fingers tremble. “Someone could hear us.”
“They won’t.” His eyes darken and the corner of his mouth lifts. “Not if you stay quiet for me.”
Every inch of me prickles with anticipation. Before I can overthink it, I loosen my grip on the blanket, and let it slip down my body.
He watches it fall. Watches me the entire time. His chest rises and falls like he’s the one struggling.
“Fuck.”
He takes another breath.
Then another—and then he lowers to his knees.
My heart slams. “Wesley—wait—”
“Do you want this?” he murmurs, eyes lifting to mine. “I need to hear you say it.”
His mouth grazes my thigh and my hands grip the edge of the dresser until my knuckles ache.
“I shouldn’t,” I whisper.
“I know,” he says softly. “Say it anyway.”
I shake my head slowly and his fingers ghost up my leg, stopping just shy of where I’m burning.
“Tell me to stop.”
I swallow hard.
Silence stretches between us until finally I admit the truth we already know. “I don’t want you to stop.”
He exhales—with relief, hunger, something close to devotion—and rests his forehead briefly against my knee. Then his hands grip my thighs—firmer now, claiming without pushing—and he gently tugs the remaining blanket aside. The air hits my skin and I shiver, helpless.
“Unfortunately, you used up most of our time asking redundant questions, and I’ve waited long enough,” he says, voice soft as his fingers slide up my hips, slow enough to make my skin erupt in goosebumps.
“So now…you’ll have to settle.”
“Settle for what?”
His gaze drops, lips parting as he sweeps his tongue across them.
“Sadie,” he murmurs, his mouth brushing the inside of my thigh softly.
“Hm?”
“Please,” he begs, looking up at me through his lashes. “Shut the fuck up and let me eat.”
In one swift move, my panties are tugged aside and his mouth is on me—and everything inside me detonates.
What he does to me is slow and purposeful, every movement deliberate and controlled—until it isn’t. Heat floods every inch of me, dizzying and bright. His hands, his mouth, his breath—everything is too much and not enough. I clench the blanket between my teeth, biting down to keep myself quiet.
My body goes molten. I reach for him without thinking, fingers threading through his hair, and the sound he makes breaks something inside me. His tongue traces, circling, pressing deeper until my body bows off the dresser.
His fingers tighten around my thighs, guiding, steadying, urging me to stay open for him. His mouth is desperate and tender all at once, each movement a promise, an apology, a claim.