“Fuck.” He pauses, his fingers working her nipple until a bead of milk appears. “I know it’s kinky to like this. When she started leaking in front of my eyes, and I had a taste, I was hooked.”
“It tastes good, but it’s more than that.”
“Yeah. After a long day, it’s the best kind of relaxation.”
“She’ll have to stop sometime,” I say. I know he won’t want to hear it, but making milk takes it out of a woman.
“I’ve told her to eat and drink double so she stays strong.”
“And when we want her to have our kids?”
“We stop,” he says.
“You got it all figured out.” I chuckle, trying to keep my voice low so I don’t wake Joelle.
She shifts, using her hand to draw me closer.
“I don’t want to stop,” she murmurs. “Not yet.”
Her voice is barely there, but the emotion behind it is vulnerability edged with certainty. It’s not just the kink that she wants. She wants theconnection. The caretaking. The surrender.
Wade sighs happily, rolling her to her back. “What the lady wants, the lady gets,” he says, latching on and humming with contentment.
Chapter 29
Joelle
Caleb’s already saddled the gentlest mare in the barn—a calm, flaxen-coated beauty named Penny who smells like hay and sunshine and shifts gently on her feet like she’s aware of my fear and doesn’t want to startle me. She’s the kind of horse you can trust with beginners.
I adjust the strap of my brand-new hat and run a sweaty palm nervously down my thigh. My jeans are snug, my boots are scuffed, and my heart is a mess of excitement and trepidation.
Wade’s sitting on the rail fence nearby, Little C wobbling on unsteady toddler legs in front of him, gripping the rail and squealing every time a horse so much as flicks its tail.
“He thinks he’s in charge,” Wade mutters, grinning, arms ready in case our son loses his balance.
Little C babbles something that might be“horse!”and kicks at the dirt, delighted when one of the ponies snorts in his direction.
I turn toward Caleb, who’s watching me like I’m the only thing worth looking at in his whole universe.
“You ready, sweetheart?” he asks, voice low and coaxing.
“Not even a little,” I admit.
He chuckles, moves closer, and offers his hand. “That’s all right. You’re not doin’ it alone.”
He boosts me up into the saddle, then climbs up behind me, his arms sliding around my waist, anchoring me against his muscular body. The horse shifts beneath us, her body warm and powerful.
“Okay,” I whisper, trying not to hold my breath.
“You’re doin’ fine.” Caleb leans in close, his mouth brushing the shell of my ear. “Relax. Let the rhythm do the work.”
His words are soft but confident, and the tension in my thighs eases. My spine finds its curve. With his chest pressed to my back and one hand light on the reins, he guides us into a slow, swaying walk.
I giggle unexpectedly, and the horse’s ears respond with a fascinating flick. “This is... not as terrifying as I thought.”
“See?” he murmurs. “Told you. You’re built for this.”
“I don’t know about that,” I say, cheeks warm.
