“But you don’t get to disappear on me, either.”
A faint smile tugs at my lips. “You’re not going to let me, are you?”
“Nope,” she answers with an unnecessary amount of sass that causes me to chuckle.
She steps closer, stopping just in front of me before admitting quietly, “I’m scared, too.”
I’m so used to being fearless that her admission catches me off guard. “You are?”
“Of course I am. This,”—she gestures between us—“matters to me. We matter.”
“Wematter,” I repeat.
I stand and erase the small distance between us. With myhand cupping her cheek, my thumb brushes lightly along her jaw. She leans into the touch without hesitation.
“I don’t want to be alone anymore,” I confess, and her breath hitches slightly. “I don’t want to run from this. Even if it scares the hell out of me.”
Her eyes glimmer in the low light. “Good,” she whispers.
I rest my forehead against hers, letting the silence stretch between us. For the first time in a long time, fear and hope exist in the same space, inside my heart.
The afternoon sun beats down on my face, flushing my cheeks from the warmth. I adjust my hat to shield my eyes against the glare, watching the cowboys in the paddock show the horses they are selling. Knox and Deacon are discussing a gelding that Knox is interested in.
“His gait is horrible.” Deacon gestures animatedly, growing agitated with Knox’s insistence. “His strides are short and stiff.”
I’m pretty certain Knox picks the worst option every time we view horses and cattle, solely to get a rise out of Deacon. Easton stands beside them, his arms crossed, as disinterested in their argument as I am, more of his gaze on me than the horses.
“I’m heading up to the stable,” I share, brushing a stray hair away from my face. “I need to prep the stall for that yearling arriving tomorrow.”
Easton turns, his dark eyes catching mine for just a moment. With a mischievous glint in his stare, he watchesme push from the fence before returning his attention to the horses.
“Take your time,” Knox calls without looking back. “We’ll be here a while. Deacon’s got opinions abouteverything.”
Chuckling to myself, I walk from the paddock.We all have opinions about that horse.My boots crunch against the gravel path as I make my way toward the barn, and I swear I can feel someone watching me. When I glance over my shoulder as I open the door, I’m not mistaken. Easton is watching me with such intent that my stomach flips.
Now carrying a bale of hay, I head toward the empty stall at the far end of the barn. I spent most of yesterday removing all the bedding and spraying down the mats that line the floor. All that’s left to prepare is fresh straw spread and a new water bucket.
As I work, my thoughts drift to Easton and that glint in his eyes. It’s been days since we’ve had any real time together.Any intimate time. The ranch keeps everyone busy, and with my brothers always around, our stolen moments are rare. My body aches for him in ways that make it hard to focus.
Spreading the last of the straw across the stall, I startle slightly when I hear footsteps behind me. I start to turn, but a strong arm wraps around my waist, and a hand presses flat against my stomach, stilling me. Using his firm hold, he shoves me forward until my chest hits the wooden wall. The rough boards dig through my Henley, and I gasp as his warm breath ghosts across my ear. “It’s been too long,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough as he cages me against the wall.
My heart hammers behind my ribcage, and my chest heaves. “Easton,” I breathily pant.
“Shhhh.” His shush blows over my skin, prickling goosebumps down my spine as his free hand dips into the front of my jeans. I hear the pop of my button giving way, and the distinct sound of my zipper sliding down. His fingers slip beneath the waistband of my panties, and I suck in a sharp breath when he slides them over my clit.
“Fuck, wildfire.” He groans against my neck. “You’re soaked.” I can’t deny his observation. Being pinned to this wall and knowing we could be caught at any second has me excited—and nervous as hell—in ways I can’t even begin to describe.
His fingers rub teasingly around my entrance, gathering my arousal before circling my clit with maddening pressure. I arch away from the wall, against him, a moan spilling from my lips before I can stop it. “Shhh.” His free hand slides over my face to cover my mouth, muffling the sounds escaping me. “You don’t want everyone to hear how hard I’m going to make you come.”
My eyes flutter shut, and I struggle to breathe as his fingers work me with practiced skill, drift down to tease my entrance, then up to stroke my swollen clit. I grind my ass against him, feeling his hard length straining against his jeans. The knowledge of his desire, sending sparks of excitement zipping through me.
“Easton.” My whimper muffles against his palm. “Please.”
“Please, what?” He pushes two fingers into me, curling them to find that spot that makes my knees buckle. “Tell me whatyou need.”
“You. I need you.”
He rewards me with a third finger, stretching me open, while the butt of his palm continues its ruthless assault on my clit. My thighs tremble. The pressure builds, coiling tight in my core. I cry out into his skin as the first wave crashes over me. My whole body shudders. I clench around his fingers, pulsing with each aftershock. Easton holds me upright, working me through my pleasure until I’m struggling to stand.
