Arthur’s smile is blinding, his deep brown eyes crinkling at the corners as he studies me. “Good. Whenwehave kids, yeah, I’m gonna do everything I can to protect them. You can keep me in line when I hover too much, okay?” He pulls me closer until our bodies are flush. “Breathe, baby. We have time. We’re not having kids right now, it’s all right.” He chuckles because, of course, my panicked expression gives me away.
I take a breath, then and force a straight face as I say, “Well, no, we’d have to have sex for that to happen, wouldn’t we?” My smug smile breaks free, knowing I’ve hit a nerve when he squints his eyes. “You do know that’s how babies are made, right? If you want kids, you’re gonna have to fuck me, Arthur.” Desperate times call for desperate measures. I’ve been begging him to get naked with me for days, ever since the doctor gave me the all clear.
I arch into him, and he hisses in a breath. “You’re a brat, you know that?” His fingers tighten at my back as he keeps me close.
I shrug, still smiling. “Just want to make sure you make good on your promises. I mean, I’m pretty sure you said you wanted me to teach you to ride English, but that has yet to happen…” I keep playing with his hair, twirling the ends that have grown and curl under his hat as I sigh, pouting for good measure.
“You wanna teach me to ride, baby?” Still pouting, I nod. “And you think you’re ready for riding?” He pushes his hardness into me, and I gasp, my nod becoming frantic as my lips part. He lowers his hand to my butt, and I hope and pray he’s about to carry me to the tack room and fuck me senseless. But no. He smacks me lightly and steps back. “Let’s go.” He keeps walking backward, away from me with a devilish smile. His wink is followed by a laugh as he turns around and heads into the tack room.
I stand there, mouth agape and in disbelief that he just did that. I watch as he preps Scout with an English saddle and then does the same to Moose. My shock turns into excitement when it hits me that we’re about to ride together, and I beam with hope that this means I also get to ridehimtonight.
I keepmy eyes locked on Arthur’s butt, doing my best not to laugh. “Okay, now rise with the trot?—”
“Rise? I thought the point was to stay in the saddle!” The exasperation in his voice is clear, and Moose is probably not super impressed with what’s happening right now.
“You’re posting, not ejecting. And stop looking for the horn!” I easily move around him as he reaches yet again for the non-existent horn in front of him. I’ve watched Arthur while he’s riding. Many times. He’s relaxed and confident on a Western saddle, but this… this is equal parts hilarious and adorable to watch because he’s so far out of his comfort zone.
“How do you steer this thing?” He lifts a hand, nearly falling off Scout, and I bite back a laugh, but I can’t help my smile.
“With both hands on your reins. Use your legs and seat. And stop dropping your hand!” I get into his line of sight again, trying to demonstrate what he needs to do, but it’s no use.
“This feels like the horse is trying to buck me off in slow motion.” He bounces awkwardly, and I let out a giggle. He’s trying so hard.
After twenty minutes of watching Arthur flail aroundlike a rag doll, I can’t stay in the saddle anymore—I’m laughing too hard. I slip off Moose and bend over, clutching my stomach as tears blur my vision.
Meanwhile, Arthur remains determinedly mounted on Scout, his dignity hanging on by a thread. “Oh you think this is funny, do you? We’ll see what’s funny when I fuck you tonight in our bed and the only things bouncing around are your perfect tits.” He turns and rides back toward the barn while I’m left with my jaw on the floor for the second time in an hour.
As I get back on Moose and follow Arthur, his words replay again and again like my favorite song.
When I fuck you tonight.
Our bed.
Promises, promises…
When we got backto the barn after his disastrous lesson, Arthur claimed he had some work to do, despite the fact that it’s Sunday. I reminded him about family dinner, and secretly hoped he’d make good on his words from earlier before we had to leave, but nope. No sex for me. Yet.
Instead, here we are, sitting in his truck, about to arrive at his parents’ house. I’ve had to endure the entire twenty-minute drive with a freshly showered and shaved Arthur, smelling good and looking even better. I watch as the muscles on his tattooed forearm flex, putting the truck into park.
He reaches over and wipes at a spot on the corner of my lip. “You had some drool right there.” When I respondwith a glare that I’m sure does nothing to make him believe I’m angry, he chuckles, opening his door and rounding the truck to get mine. I let him because I have a tray of desserts on my lap that I know I’ll drop if I so much as touch the handle myself.
I don’t make eye contact as I climb out, and I don’t say thank you when he helps me. But that feels wrong. I’m frustrated, but I’m still obsessively in love with the man. “Thank you,” I murmur.
The only indication that he heard me is the kiss he leaves on the top of my head as he breathes me in. “I’ll make the wait worthwhile, baby.”
I repeat my thoughts from earlier. “Promises, promises…” His response is a deep chuckle that makes me smile, as I look up at him. He laughs so easily these days. Smiles more. So do I.
As we walk into the already bustling kitchen, Rafael greets us with a wide smile. He’s got an apron on that says, “This guy rubs his own meat,” and I chuckle. Ana Maria always makes him wear these whenever he insists on helping in the kitchen. I set the tray of cookies that we’ll be making into ice cream sandwiches later on the counter and greet Vó with a kiss on each cheek before making my way to do the same with all of the Machado family members congregating here.
When I get to Charlie, I take in the bright yellow apron she’s wearing with the words, “My boyfriend’s sausage is bigger than yours,” in bright red letters. My hand flies to my mouth as I try to hold in my laughter, and my eyes dart to Rafael, expecting to see a proud, smug smile on his face.
“You don’t like the apron, Raf?” Arthur asks, squeezing his brother’s shoulder.
“Not particularly, no. It should say fiancé, not boyfriend.” He winks at Charlie, and all eyes dart to whereshe’s standing, left hand proudly held up in the air and the biggest smile I’ve ever seen on her face.
The room erupts into cheers and tears. Before we know it, there’s a song playing and everyone is partnering up, dancing around the kitchen. I’ve never seen Charlie look happier, and when I look up into Arthur’s eyes, I notice the same is true about him.
He brings his lips to my ears so only I can hear his next words. “You okay with this chaos for the rest of your life, tesouro?”
