I lean against the dresser, the grin still tugging at my mouth. “Oh God,” I sigh dramatically. “What are they doing to us?”
Arina smiles, snapping her purse shut and slinging it over her shoulder. “Exactly what they planned, girl. And you know the worst part?” She glances at me with a wink. “We’re letting them. Face it bitchwe’re sprung.”
? ? ?
We step out of the house, the gravel crunching under our boots, and the sight of Saint’s truck waiting by the curb makes my heart skip. Saint sits in the driver seat, one hand resting lazily on the steering wheel, his broad chest bare beneath a pair of denim overalls. I know sliding into that passenger seat is about to test me in every way.
King hops out first, flashing a stupidly charming smile as he opens the back door for Arina. “Come on, darlin’,” he says, his fake drawl somehow smooth as hell. It sends a blush straight up her cheeks as she climbs in.
Cairo meets me halfway, his jeans sharp and crisp, boots shining like he’s been polishing them all day for this. A silver belt buckle gleams under the streetlight, catching my eye just before his hand catches my waist. “Damn,” he murmurs, tugging me close, his fitted tank stretching tight across his chest as he dips down to kiss me. His rough palms frame my face, before sliding down to grab both my ass cheeks, making me gasp into his mouth.
The kiss lingers long enough to make my weak in the knees. When he finally pulls back, his fingers trace along the hem of my shorts, knuckles grazing bare skin as he smirks. “Don’t start something you can’t finish,” I whisper against his lips. He laughs quietly, then smacks my ass like he’s already accepted the challenge.
He opens the passenger door, stepping back to let me hop in. The scent of Saint hits me before I even settle into the seat, that musky clean leather smell mixing with smoke. My eyes dart to him, his jawline sharp, the straps of his overalls hanging low across his chest, leaving little to the imagination.
God, I want to trace those lines of muscle with my tongue just to see if he tastes as good as he looks. I shift in my seat, heat creeping up my neck. His eyes flicker toward me for just a second, the corner of his mouth twitching like he already knows exactly what I’m thinking.
I buckle in, my throat tightening as I stare straight ahead, stealing glances from the corner of my eye. Hungry isn’t even the word—and I’m not scared to look at Saint. Iwanthim to know exactly what’s running through my head.
He catches me staring, lips curving into the faintest smile before he speaks, his voice rough enough to curl down my spine. “You keep looking at me like that, pretty, and I’ma have to remind you what happens when you do.”
Before I can answer, his hand slides from the wheel to my neck, tilting my face toward him. His mouth crashes into mine, his tongue entering my mouth gently before he pulls away just as quickly, leaving my lips tingling and my thighs tingling.
He glances into the backseat, his tone shifting like nothing just happened. “Everybody good back there?”
After a chorus of laughter and yeses fill the car, he shifts the truck into drive, the engine rumbling as we pull off into the night.
? ? ?
The sky is painted in streaks of orange and pink when we arrive, the sun still hanging low enough to cast long shadows across the ranch. The air carries that crisp hint of evening, the type of fall night that teases winter without fully giving in.
The ranch itself looks like something straight out of an old Western—weathered wood siding, wide wraparound porches lined with white railings, rocking chairs creaking in the evening breeze. Lanterns flicker along the porch, their glow soft against the fading daylight, while strings of bulbs stretch overhead, waiting for nightfall to flip the party into something wilder.
Horses tear across the open field, dirt flying behind them as riders lean low in their saddles, chasing bragging rights. Others move at an easy trot, weaving through the crowd with quiet confidence, hats tilted against the light. Closer to thehouse, mechanical bulls spin and buck, riders clinging tight until the inevitable fall sends the crowd roaring with laughter.
I slip my hand into Saint’s, my other into Cairo’s, linking us together like a chain. The move isn’t for them—it’s for everyone else. Anyone thinking about walking up, can see that I’m clearly taken care of and so are they.
The looks don’t take long to follow. A few girls in cut-off shorts glance our way, whispering behind their hands. Some guys give a nod of respect, stepping aside as we pass.
The message is clear, and it settles in my chest like a quiet thrill. The music’s loud, but it’s the sight of the mechanical bulls near the barn that catches Arina’s attention. Her eyes light up instantly, she grabs my arm, bouncing on her toes like a kid.
“Oh my God, bitch wehaveto do it!” she squeals, pointing as another girl goes flying off, landing in the padded pit to a wave of cheers.
I laugh, already feeling the challenge stir in my chest. “Fuck it. Why not?” I say, my grin spreading. “Matter of fact—let’s see who can stay on the longest.”
Arina’s smirk matches mine, and just like that, it’s on.
King’s face lights up, his voice booming over the music. “Oh, hell yeah—I gotta see this! Arina, you better hold on tight!” His eyes track her every move, clearly already picturing the show.
Saint arches a brow, a slow grin tugging at the corner of his lips as his gaze drags over me. “Now this,” he says, voice low, “I don’t wanna miss.”
Then Cairo slaps my ass hard enough to make me gasp, his grin wicked. “Oh, hell yeah. We’re gonna need drinks for this one.”
I swat at him as he backs away, excitement in every step. “Get me something strong!” I call after him, my cheeks burning but my smile refusing to fade.
Before he disappears into the crowd, I lean in to Saint, pressing a quick kiss to his lips—sweet, but charged enough to draw a quiet groan from him. “Make sure he’s got a drink waiting for us when we’re done,” I murmur, low enough for only him to hear. “We’re gonna need it.”
Saint chuckles, his hand brushing over my waist as I pull back. “Don’t worry,” he says, caramel delights glinting with that dangerous promise. “I’ll make sure he has them ready. You just don’t fall too quick, pretty.”
