How the fuck did I come to this conclusion?When the fuck did this occur to me?
Just now, apparently.Right this moment.
And I think I know why—I want what I can’t have.I can’t have her.Not here.Not under these circumstances.And so I’ve built her up in my mind as the object of unparalleled lust.
I wish this fucking blizzard would burn itself out.
“Well?”Phoebe asks.
“Well,what?”
That came out sharper than it needed to because, for an instant, I worried that she was reading my mind.
“Sorry,” I say.“I got distracted.Yes, the good stuff.The best stuff.”
But it’s more than wanting what I can’t have.Phoebe is something very special.
She’s kind.Sweet.Funny.Concerned about the well-being of others more than what others think of her.She’s strong, physically and mentally.Brave.Gritty.Insightful.Adaptable.
And that’s before I even begin with the beautiful part.The things that make me suck air between my teeth every time I look at her.
Phoebe’s a natural-born smoke show, from head to toe.
Nothing about her is artificial, filled, enhanced, sculpted, or painted on.Her face is strikingly feminine and soft.Her eyes are soulful and expressive, and her mouth—that fucking mouth—is made for kissing.
And more.
She’s a good ten inches shorter than me, so around five-feet-six.She’s athletic but unmistakably feminine, thick in all the right places.Including the bomb-diggity ass and thighs I’m staring at right now.
Her full breasts are round and firm, with delicate nipples I suspect are pink now that she’s not in the throes of hypothermia.I tried my best not to look at her breasts.Or her nipples.Or even think about the fact that shehasnipples.I failed.
“Go on.I’m dying of curiosity.What are some of Evander MacLaine’s favorite things in the whole world?”
You.You’re becoming one of my favorite things.Along with your ass, thighs, breasts, face, mouth…
I need to wrap this up.
“If I tell you, will you stop moving your head around and stop jiggling your foot?I’d like to finish this so you can get dressed and warm up.I know you’re cold.”
“Deal.”
“All right.I’ll start with the non-material things.”
“Your family?”
“Yes.Without them, the material shit’s meaningless.So, first and foremost is my big, loud, in-your-face family and everyone close to us.”
“Except for Special K, who doesn’t say much of anything.”
I laugh.“That’s true, but when he does say shit, he makes up for lost time.”
“I know what you mean,” she says with another giggle.
That comment gives me pause.Something bugs me about it, but I can’t put my finger on it.I continue.“The ranch itself is family, too.The land.It defines the MacLaines.It’s our history.”
“I get that.It’s the same for Travis Ranch.”
“And my SEAL buddies and law school friends.The collection of the world’s people I’ve had the honor to experience, along with the unbelievable variety of food, art, music, dance, and literature they’ve produced.”
