21. Holden
HOLDEN
Sage stares down at the bed we’ve made, and it doesn’t take a genius to see what’s running through her head. I don’t want her to feel uncomfortable, but spending the night in a drafty barn with a storm outside and no dry clothes will be far worse if we don’t share at least a little body heat.
I approach her slowly, like I would if she were a green horse.
She wets her lips as she blinks up at me, and I choke down the completely fucking inappropriate surge of lust that floods my body.
Bad enough it’s been simmering in my gut since she walked out of the stall wearing my jacket, her legs bare apart from her boots—like some kind of cowboy’s wet dream.
But in such a vulnerable situation, especially after I kissed her the other night, I need her to know she’s safe with me.
I reach out and brush a few damp strands of hair away from her cheek. “We need to stay warm, sweetheart. But that’s all, okay? I won’t touch you in any way you’re not comfortable with.”
I don’t know when I started calling her sweetheart or why, but it keeps slipping out.
Maybe because it feels right.
Her eyes flutter shut for a moment, then she smiles. “I’m not worried about that. In fact, you might have to worry about me. I can be a bit of a clinger in bed. At least that’s what I’ve been told.”
I clench my jaw at the image of Sage in bed with another man, being told she’s clingy. It was probably that asshole ex of hers. He should have considered himself damn lucky to have a woman like Sage clinging to him.
Any man would.
I roll my shoulders to release suddenly taut muscles, my injured one twinging enough to pull me back to the present. “I’m going to have to get out of these clothes as well, otherwise I’ll just make you wet.”
Her eyes widen, and then laughter bubbles out of her. “That’s confident of you.”
I replay my words in my mind, then tilt my head down and smirk. “I was trying to be considerate.”
“Very considerate.” She raises her hands and shakes her head. “Sorry, you’re trying to be a gentleman. I’m the one being inappropriate.”
My body heats at the idea of finding out just how inappropriate she can be, but even if I were to let myself go there with her, this is not the time or the place.
The humor in her expression fades as she rests her hand on my forearm. “I trust you. I know you won’t do anything.” She frowns and gently rubs my skin. “You’re icy.”
There’s no way I can admit how quickly her touch is heating me from the inside out. Stepping back, I get to work on the buttons of my shirt. “Get comfortable. I’ll join you in a minute.”
Rather than responding, her gaze lingers on my chest. Then, blinking several times, she spins away and tentatively approaches our bed for the night.
She toes off one boot before stepping onto the blanket-covered straw, then does the same with the other and moves them to the side. With another quick look at me, she lowers herself and stretches out next to the wall.
As my jacket rides up her thighs, I cast my attention upward, willing the sudden rush of blood to my dick to disappear, because dammit, I have to take my Wranglers off.
No fucking luck. Though at least I’m not going commando.
I kick off my boots, then strip down to my boxer briefs, doing my best not to focus on Sage waiting there for me like a damn fantasy.
When I glance at her again, she’s staring right where she shouldn’t be. The column of her throat moves, and I swell even more.
For fuck’s sake, how far gone am I that her eyes on me alone, in what should be as far from a sexual situation as possible, are enough to get me rock hard? Her lips part, but before she can make whatever inappropriate comment is on the tip of her tongue, I stalk toward her.
“Anything that comes out of that mouth of yours is just going to make it worse.”
She presses her lips together. “What if I was going to say I’ve seen bigger?”
A laugh rumbles through me. This damn woman. “Still worse. I’m competitive by nature, don’t forget.”
She covers her face with both hands. “Oh god, please don’t tell me this is you actually holding something back.”
“Better change the subject unless you want to find out. It’s hard to be a gentleman when you’re talking about my dick.”
“I’m sorry,” she says, the smile on her face telling me she really isn’t. “I promise I’ll keep my mouth under control.”
Talking about controlling her mouth isn’t a good option either, but it’s probably better not to mention that.
I snag the last blanket, then lie beside her and spread it over us. It’s far from ideal, but it should trap enough warmth to allow us to get some sleep.
The rain drums heavily against the roof, and bursts of lightning intermittently brighten the inside of the barn, followed by booms of thunder.
Now that we’ve stopped moving, the chill sets in.
When Sage shivers, I give in to the inevitable.
“Roll over,” I tell her, my voice gruffer than it should be.
Her eyes meet mine, and she lets out a breath, but she doesn’t argue. Once she’s on her side with her back to me, I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her close, tangling my legs with hers.
My dick, which I’d only just managed to get under control, wakes up again the moment she presses her ass into me.
Fuck. This whole night is going to be torture.
“It’s funny how things work out,” she says, thankfully distracting me.
“What do you mean?”
She shifts against me, and I squeeze my eyes shut.
“Just remembering when we met for the first time,” she carries on, hopefully oblivious to the war going on inside me.
“Yeah. I may have been a little… short.”
She laughs. “You think? There I was, stuck in the middle of the wilderness, recovering from a traumatic accident, and my rescuer was mean to me.”
The memory makes me snort. “You weren’t the slightest bit traumatized. Even emerging from a muddy ditch after crashing your car, you were full of sass.”
“Hmm. I guess I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You should.”
She’s quiet for a beat, and when she speaks again, her voice is softer. “I like it when you compliment me.”
Something hot and heavy settles behind my ribs. “Then I should do it more often.”
“But only if it’s real. I don’t want you making anything up.”
Without thought, I rub my thumb back and forth over her stomach, both hating that her skin is covered by my jacket and grateful that it is. “I don’t need to make anything up, Sage.”
She sighs and presses back against me, and I dip my head closer, my lips almost brushing the top of her head.
“It took me way too long to realize that Graham only said the things he knew I wanted to hear,” she murmurs.
“Guy’s an asshole,” I mutter.
Her body shakes with a quiet laugh. “He is.”
She rests her small hand on top of mine under the blanket. “The thing is, I keep wondering why I couldn’t see it. What’s wrong with me that I let him lie to me for so long?”
I struggle to keep my body relaxed, to let her talk about this Graham dick without letting my anger at the thought of him take over.
“You know the worst part?” she asks.
I’m not even sure she’s talking to me at this point, or to herself. Still, I answer her. “What?”
“It wasn’t even the cheating.”
My focus sharpens, and I twine my fingers with hers, pulling her even closer.
“It was that I stopped trusting myself. Way before I found out, honestly. All the signs were there, but it was easier to believe what he told me than to try to figure out what parts of our relationship were real and what parts were lies.”
“Sounds like he wanted you to trust him instead of yourself.”
Sage goes still against me, then nods once. “Yeah, he did.”
My back knots as her quiet confirmation stokes the anger inside me.
“I kept thinking that if I worked harder, if I achieved more, I’d finally feel certain I was doing things right.”
“No.” The word leaves me harsher than I intend.
She shifts, glancing over her shoulder at me.
I exhale, forcing some of the edge from my voice. “You knew what was right for you. He just convinced you that you didn’t.”
The breath she lets out is as soft as her smile. “I’m starting to realize that.”
She turns away from me again, and as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, she presses our intertwined hands to the center of her chest.
For a minute, neither of us says anything, the only sound the rain rattling against the roof overhead, the storm settling into a heavier rhythm outside the barn walls.
This time when Sage speaks, her words vibrate through the fingers she keeps pressed to her chest. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
I can’t see her expression, but her tone tells me she’s smiling again. “Most of the time you act like you figured this kind of stuff out forever ago. Like you’ve never doubted yourself.”
A humorless huff leaves me.
Her fingers tighten around mine. “What?”
I stare up at the now-dark square of the window. “It’s easier when you know where you fit. When you know what your place is supposed to be.”
“And you don’t?”
“I used to.”
She turns her head slightly, enough that I can feel her eyes on me.
“When you were on the circuit?”
I prop my head on my hand so I can look down at her. “Yes. And no.”
Her attention is fixed on me, her expression soft—listening without pushing. It makes the next words easier to say. “I told you my mom died when I was sixteen. The guy had a heart attack and crossed the center line.”
I swallow, my throat closing up like it always does when I think about that day. “After that, things just… changed.”
Her lips part in a silent exhale. “In what way?”
My gaze traces over her features. “I don’t know.” The answer comes out rougher than I mean it to. “The ranch wasn’t the same anymore.”
Not just the ranch. The house. My family. I wasn’t the same.
“So I left. Started riding bigger circuits as soon as I could. Stayed gone longer every year. It was easier being the guy who rode bulls than coming home and feeling like—”
Like the reminder.
Like the reason she was on that road at all.
My throat closes before I can force the words out.
“Holden—”
I shake my head to stop her, the tenderness in her voice twisting me up inside. The wind whistles outside the barn, but inside, everything suddenly feels too close. Too warm. Too damn honest. “It’s been a long day, City. We should get some sleep.”
Her lips turn up. “So we’re back to City now, are we? What a shame. I think I prefer sweetheart.”
I stare at that mouth of hers, the temptation to kiss her a sudden, urgent beat in my blood. But I hold on to my control with every ounce of willpower I’ve got. “It’s been a long day, sweetheart,” I growl. “Go to sleep.”
I savor her soft laugh and the way she rolls over, nestling against my chest again, all without letting go of my hand.
I like it more than I should.
Turns out I prefer “sweetheart,” too.