From how right it feels.
Sam presses in closer, kissing down my neck like he’s sealing every vow we haven’t spoken yet.
“Did you know this barn is one of the original structures on the property?” he murmurs against my skin, voice rough with want. “Legend has it Elijah and Mary made their first kid right here.”
I let out a shaky laugh, fingers working open the buttons of his shirt, needing skin, needing him.
“Lots of legacy,” I whisper. “Sounds like we’ve got big shoes to fill.”
His lips brush mine again, slower now, deeper like this time, it’s not just heat driving us.
“We’ll fill them plenty fine,” he growls against my neck, voice thick with promise.
Fingers fumble with buttons, fabric sliding away in haste, not carelessness. There's a hunger in the way we undress each other like we're carving this moment into memory. Skin on skin. Breath on breath.
Then Sam spins me gently, guiding me to face the wall. My palms find the rough wood, warm from the sun, and I gasp as he presses a hand to the small of my back, arching me for him.
“Gonna do it like horses?” I tease, voice breathless.
“Hell yeah.” His tone is low and ragged, laced with something feral.
The anticipation coils tight in my stomach as I feel himline up, his tip brushing against my entrance. Then he thrusts in deep, and I cry out, one hand scraping against the stall wall, the other bracing for dear life.
His hands grip my hips, fingers digging in just enough to anchor me as he moves slowly at first, but thick with tension. Every drive of his hips sends heat sparking down my spine, stealing my breath.
A whimper slips past my lips.
“Shh,” he murmurs against my ear, voice like molten sin. “Can’t have anyone hearing how much of a naughty girl you’re being.”
That only makes the ache sharper. The burn deeper.
“Sam,” I plead, pressing back into him. “Please.”
His response is a low groan, his pace shifting, the rhythm going from reverent to rough like he’s giving me everything I asked for and then some. The barn groans faintly with each movement, and outside, the world is calm. But in here? In here, we’re a storm. And I don’t want the sky to clear.
His grip tightens on my hips, anchoring me as his pace turns frantic, each thrust a promise and a claim. The sound of us echoes softly off the old wooden beams, a steady rhythm of skin and breath and want that fills the barn like heat.
My forehead rests against the wall, eyes fluttering shut as pleasure winds tight in my core, sharp and rising. Every movement drives me higher. Every sound he makes—those low, broken groans, the way he says my name like a secret—pulls me closer to the edge.
“Sam,” I gasp, my voice cracking under the weight of everything building.
His hand slides from my waist to my front, fingers finding that aching spot with a practiced touch. I cry out,hips jerking, the pleasure crashing into me so hard I nearly fold. My whole body clenches around him, shaking with the force of it.
“That's it,” he rasps. “That’s my girl.”
I can’t even respond. I’m lost in him.
And then he follows.
He groans, a sound low and guttural, hands gripping me like he’ll never let go as he drives into me one last time. He spills with a shudder, his body pressed flush to mine, both of us trembling, breathless.
For a long moment, we just stay like that, skin against skin, bodies humming from the inside out. The silence is thick, golden, broken only by our ragged breaths and the gentle sounds of the horses shifting nearby.
He presses a kiss to the back of my neck, his voice nothing but a whisper. “Darlin’, you just ruined me.”
I laugh. “Right back at you, cowboy.”
And in this old barn, surrounded by legacy and dust and the sharp scent of new life, I know without a doubt that we just started something we’ll never be able to stop.
