I stand there for longer than I should, staring after it and the life I ran from. The life that suddenly feels like it’s chasing after me.
Teagan’s horse slows as she approaches, the afternoon sun catching in her hair. She swings down from the saddle easily, boots hitting the ground with practiced grace. “Who was that?” she asks, her eyes glancing toward the disappearing vehicle.
“Just an old ranch friend,” I lie, hating myself. “Happened to be in the area.”
“Fancy car for a rancher.” Her eyes narrow slightly, glancing toward the dust cloud still settling along the road. She loops her arms around my waist, and I stare up at me. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” I answer quickly, forcing myself to hold her gaze. “Everything’s fine.”
She nods slowly, though I can tell she’s not entirely convinced.
The clock on my nightstand reads 12:06 a.m. when I finally throw off the covers. My heart thuds against my ribcage, not from fear, but from the familiar thrill that comes with doing something I’m not supposed to do. Knox and I are leaving at dawn for a rodeo in Cheyenne, three days of competition, road noise, and sleeping in a cheap motel. That’s three days without seeing or touching Easton.
Three days too many.
I pull a jacket on over my sleep shirt, grab my boots, and carry them as I creep down the hallway on bare feet. The floorboards in this old ranch house have a language of their own. I memorized years ago which ones creak and which stay silent. When I reach the back door, I lean against the wall and tug on my boots. The back door sticks in its frame, and I have no choice but to yank it open. I give it a firm tug, and the night air rushes in on a squeal of old hinges. I freeze, listening intently to make sure I didn’t wake Dad or Knox.
The bunkhouse sits maybe two hundred yards from the main house, a dark silhouette against the star-scattered sky. I walk down the gravel path as the wind blows in from the mountains, cool against my bare legs.
After climbing the steps, I let myself inside. It’s dark and warm, smelling faintly of the same citrusy and woodsy scent of Easton’s soap. I can just make out his shape in the narrow bed—broad shoulders, one arm flung above his head, and dark hair falling across his forehead. He sleeps like a man who works himself to exhaustion every day, which he does.
I remove my boots at the door before dropping my jacket beside them. The floorboards creak beneath my bare feet as I cross the room to where he’s sleeping. My hands find the hem of my shirt, and I pull it over my head, letting it fall to the floor as I walk.
After lifting the edge of his sheets tangled low around his waist, I slip beneath them and press my cold body against the furnace heat of his. He tenses, stirring from his slumber with a groan. “Teagan.”
“Yes?” I playfully answer his sleepy grumble.
It takes him a second before he registers that my presence is real and not a dream.
“Jesus Christ,” he breathes, his eyes snapping open. Even in the darkness, I can see the tension in his jaw. “What are you doing here? Your father will fucking kill me.”
“Probably,” I say, letting a smirk curl my lips. My hand traces down his chest, feeling the ridges of muscle as I work toward his cock. “But he’s not going to find out, ishe?”
Easton exhales hard when I wrap my hand around his shaft, but his resistance is crumbling. I press my lips to his collarbone, then drag them lower, tracing a path down his sternum. His stomach muscles clench beneath my mouth as I kiss each defined ridge of his abs, my tongue tracing the lines of his body as I disappear beneath the sheets.
“Teagan—” he starts, but his voice breaks when I lick up his length. He’s already hard, his cock straining toward my mouth, so I take my time exploring him. I trace the vein running along the underside with my tongue, feeling him pulse against me. His hand finds my hair, fingers tangling in the blonde strands as I take him into my mouth properly.
I work him slowly at first, my lips stretching around his girth and tongue swirling over the smooth head. My jaw aches quickly from his thickness. But when I taste the salty musk of his precum on my tongue, it’s overshadowed by the proof of what I do to him. I take him deeper, relaxing my throat, and his hips buck upward involuntarily.
“Fuck,” he groans, his voice strung taut. His fingers tighten in my hair. “Your mouth—God, wildfire, just like that.”
I hollow my cheeks and suck harder, one hand wrapping around the base of him while the other grips his thigh. He grows more rigid in my mouth as his breathing turns ragged. He’s close. I can tell by the way his thigh tenses and the desperate sounds rattling from his lungs.
“Teagan, stop,” he gasps, tugging gently at my hair as he barely holds on to his resolve. I pull off with a wet pop, grinning in the darkness as I emerge from beneath the sheets. He doesn’t give me time to gloat. He hooks his hands under my arms and yanks me up his body before flipping us in onefluid motion. The mattress creaks beneath our combined weight until I’m pinned beneath him. I feel deliciously small like this—trapped between his large frame, his heat radiating into me.
“I swear you’re gonna ruin me,” he mutters, but there’s tenderness beneath the gruffness.
His mouth finds mine, and he kisses me deeply, his tongue sliding against my own. He breaks the kiss to trail his lips down my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin beneath my ear, and I whimper as my back arches off the bed. His hand drags along the length of my body, the heat radiating from his palm seeping into me with a slow burn that stokes a deep, throbbing want I can’t control. I reach between us for his cock, but he tears my hand away.
“I’m not going to see you for days,” he gruffly whispers against my skin. “You’re going to let me worship you, like a good girl.”
His hands map my body as if he’s trying to memorize it—skimming over my shoulders, tracing the curve of my waist, and cupping my breasts. His thumbs brush over my nipples, and I gasp, heat pooling between my thighs. He takes one peaked bud into his mouth, his tongue circling it slowly while his hand attends to the other. My fingers dig into his shoulders, clutching at the muscle there.
He moves lower, pressing kisses to my ribs, my stomach, and then the jut of my hip bones. Wet kisses pepper over the mound of my pussy before trailing down my thighs. When he finally settles there, I’m trembling with need. Easton looks up at me, his dark eyes glinting in the faint moonlight, and then he licks a firm stripe throughmy pussy. I bite my lip hard to keep from crying out, but I can’t hold it back.
“Easton…”
He works me with devastating patience, his tongue circling my clit, sliding inside me, building me toward my release. His fingers join his mouth. First one, then two, both curling to find that spot that makes my vision blur. I’m dripping wet, and I can hear it in the obscene noises filling the otherwise-quiet room each time he thrusts his fingers into me.
