“Huh?” I manage.
Knox wrenches himself away from me, turning away and stomping to the other side of the study. “I didn’t stutter, little girl. Get the hell out of here!”
“Was I…” My eyes smart with tears. “Did I do it wrong? Are we…do we have a deal?”
“No.” He turns away, but not before I see the surge of regret. “Out!”
Knowing when I’ve pushed my luck, I snatch up my shirt and run, the wind drying the tears on my face the whole way down the mountain. Not only have I failed to save the ranch for my parents, but I think I left a part of myself on the desk in that study.
A part of me I’ll never get back.
Not my virginity.
No, it was…true abandon. Unfiltered vulnerability.
The kind you only give to a man once.
I guess Knox Morgan was my once.
four
Knox
I holdthe binoculars to my eyes with my left hand, because I know for certain I will need to keep my right hand free. Billie is down the mountain, in the paddock of her parents’ ranch, exercising a mare, a tan cowboy hat perched on her head. She’s in those painted-on jeans and a sweaty white tank top, and itpainsme that I’m not closer. Right in front of her to memorize the luscious jiggle of her tits as she trots in an oval on the back of the horse, leather reins in her hands.
Hands that I can still feel curled in the front of my shirt.
The effect of her mouth, her touch, lingers two days later.
I can feel her nubile body against mine. The tremble of her breath and thighs. The innocent yet curious play of her tongue. The softness of her back as I stroked it. How she arched into me, letting the kiss overwhelm her. Trustingmeto overwhelm her.
She wasn’t the only one who was overcome, though.
No, I could have lost myself in her indefinitely—and a slip-up like that would be unacceptable. I don’t carve out space in my life for other people.
Other peopleare the root cause of every misery I’ve ever experienced. I was abandoned on a church doorstep as an infant. Neglected in the system all throughout my youth. Betrayed by so-called friends and locked up in prison for trusting the wrong people. My so called “found family.” Five years in the pen only validated my disgust with humanity and I want no part in society any longer.
My solitude keeps me from getting hurt. Experiencing loss. Being disappointed in someone’s character when I mistakenly thought them to be worthy of trust.
Yet, even in the midst of my resolve, I crave her mouth again.
It’s an unending hunger.
I’ve been at this window so often jerking on my cock, I had to lay down a towel to soak up the abundance of spilled sperm. And Jesus, here I go again, unbuttoning my jeans with a strangled grunt. I press the binoculars to the window and watch her dismount the mare. She takes off her cowboy hat and shakes out her loose hair, my dick swelling at the erotic sight of her, sweaty in the sunshine, the ripe slope of her tits glistening with light.
I moan into my closed mouth, remembering how she kissed so eagerly. How her tongue tasted like strawberries. How she mewled when she realized I had an erection for her. God, I would love to go back in time and suck those nipples. Their taste would be singular. Like nothing else on this planet. I know it in my bones.
You can do anything you want to me, if you cancel out the debt my parents owe on the ranch.
How did I manage to turn down that offer?
I still don’t know where I found the strength.
But I suspect it was my fight or flight instinct.
I can’t fight the way she…draws me sodeeply. Infatuatesme.
Therefore, I sent her running.
