As if sensing my stare, his eyelids fluttered. Blue eyes, hazy with sleep, cracked open. They focused on me, and a lazy, arrogant grin spread across his face.
"Morning, trouble," he rasped. His voice was deeper than the Mariana Trench, vibrating straight through my chest.
"Morning, city boy." I reached up, tracing the line of his jaw. "You snore."
"Lies. Slander." He shifted, his hips rolling forward, and my breath hitched. He was hard. Rock hard. The ridge of his morning wood pressed insistently against my hip through the thin sheet, a heavy promise. "I don't snore. I purr aggressively."
I laughed, the sound bubbling up from my chest. "Is that what we're calling it?"
"Come here." He grabbed my waist, hauling me flush against him. He buried his face in my neck, inhaling deeply. "You smell like me."
"And you smell like sex and trouble." I leaned back to look at him, but he chased my lips, capturing them in a slow, languid kiss that tasted of toothpaste and last night’s decisions. It wasn’t urgent like yesterday; it was possessive. It was a seal.
"Round two?" he murmured against my mouth, his hand sliding down my spine to cup my ass, squeezing the flesh. "I’m feeling... inspired."
"Beau, no." I pulled back, breathless, though my body was already betraying me, arching into his touch. "We have to get up. It’s a ranch. People work here."
"I'll fire them. All of them." He nipped at my chin. "I'm the son of a CEO. I can do that."
"You absolutely cannot—"
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Heavy boots on the stairs. Unmistakable.
I froze. Beau froze. We stared at each other with wide, panicked eyes like two teenagers caught in the backseat of a Chevy.
"Pops," I whispered, horror dawning. I glanced at the clock. "omg it’s five in the fucking morning!"
"Farmers," Beau hissed, scrambling upright. The sheet fell away, revealing his magnificent, naked glory, and for a second, my brain short-circuited. Focus, Winnie. Do not stare at the dick.
"Winnie? You up, kiddo?" Pops’ voice boomed from the hallway, getting closer.
"Move!" I shoved Beau’s shoulder. He nearly fell off the bed, tripping over his own discarded sweatpants.
"I’m a grown man," he whispered furiously, hopping on one foot as he tried to yank his pants up. "Why am I hiding?"
"Because he has a shotgun and he knows how to use it! Go!" I pointed to the connecting door to his room.
"Winnie?" Pops knocked. The handle started to turn.
"I'm up!" I yelled, my voice cracking an octave too high. "Just... uh... finding a bra!"
I threw a pillow at Beau, hitting him square in the back of the head as he scrambled through the connecting door. He shot me a glare, winked, and clicked the door shut just as Pops opened mine.
"Morning, sunshine," Pops said, leaning against the doorframe, a mug of coffee in hand. He looked entirely too awake. "Breakfast in ten. Elise is leaving at noon."
"Right. Yes. Breakfast." I stood by the bed, trying to look casual while shielding the tangle of sheets that definitely smelled like cologne and latex. "I'll be right down."
Pops’ eyes scanned the room. They lingered on the second pillow, which still bore the imprint of a head, then flicked to the closed connecting door. A slow, knowing smirk curled under his mustache.
"Alright. And tell the 'City Boy' that the walls in this old house are thin. And he snores."
My face went nuclear.
Pops chuckled, turning to leave. "Ten minutes. Don't be late."
As soon as he was gone, I collapsed onto the bed, burying my face in my hands. "I am going to die. I am literally going to die of embarrassment."
