For once, I had no idea what to say, too surprised by the way my own feelings seemed to wrap around his, wanting to comfort him somehow, or tell him how I’d never had an experience quite like this before, not even with Cal.
Instead, I was saved by the other feelings that suddenly rose up as he pushed into me again, making me come so hard that I almost saw stars. His mouth covered mine, wrapping me in a gentle kiss as I moaned, hardening as it was followed by his own.
I held onto him as he finished, my arms still circling his shoulders as I rested my head against his chest, eyes closed as I tried to catch my breath. We stayed there, just breathing against each other, one of his hands still in my hair, the other on my ass. He smelled incredible: a deep, warm, smoky scent.
‘That was . . .’ he began, breaking off as though realizing the next words might just take us into new territory, to somewhere I guessed neither of us was familiar with. I lifted my head as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
His eyes blazed into mine, clearly deep in thought, as an unfamiliar but very definite jolt hit me square in the gut.
‘Yeah, it was,’ I whispered, wanting nothing more than to stay right here with him, and therefore knowing I had to leave immediately.
Shit.
CHAPTER2
HESTIA
‘So . . . when are you going to tell me what happened with you and Jesse last weekend?’ Lottie’s lips twitched as she came out onto the wraparound deck at the back of the ranch house, handing me a steaming coffee. She curled herself into the wide rocking chair opposite mine. ‘And don’t you dare bullshit me. Jesse’s been as smug as fuck but suspiciously quiet ever since, so I know for a fact you were making way more than snacks in there. And frankly, it’s even weirder that you won’t tell me all about it.’
I hid behind my Ray-Bans, taking a sip to hide the expression that agreed with her. So instead, I took the tried and tested route – and deflected.
‘It was just a quick fumble,’ I replied, shaking my head as her mouth popped open. ‘Seriously, chill. Not everyone comes on holiday to Wyoming and meets the love of their life, okay? He’s hot, we were both horny, so we just . . . hooked up. That’s it. No drama. End of.’
I knew I sounded defensive, and I kicked myself internally as Lottie let her mass of curls fall forward to cover her deepening smile. It was impossible not to soften at that, at knowing how well this woman knew me, unlike anyone else.
‘That sounds . . . great,’ she said, clearing her throat, clearly trying not to laugh. ‘Just what you needed, then.’
‘Exactly.’ I stared out across the incredible view, the soaring mountains ahead casting a long shadow over the green valley floor. This place was crushingly beautiful, and about as far from East London as I could’ve got. ‘I’m here for a break from the hellscape of home, from all of the bullshit with Cal. Any other activity, including screwing cowboys, is entirely recreational. Fuck yoga – getting hammered up against a wall is my kind of stress relief.’
Lottie choked on her coffee, eventually recovering enough to laugh. I loved the sound of it, the way her whole face came to life.
‘I’ve missed you,’ she gasped, holding out her free hand to me. I took it, my inked skin and dark nails against the natural, unmarked beauty of hers. She smiled, likely noting the same thing. ‘You know it’s okay to like someone, though, right? I know it’s been a shitshow with Cal, but Jesse isn’t him.’
I shrugged, hating just how aware I was of that, how the last moments of our kitchen encounter had replayed over and over in my mind.
‘Right. I just want to do my own thing right now, though, you know? Just me. Although I’ll always want you around.’ I winked at her, watching as her perceptive, all-too-wise gaze read my real thoughts, just as she always had.
‘Just as long as you know you don’t have to do it alone,’ she said, stroking a finger over the sharp tips of my nails. ‘I know that big old wall of yours has been up for a long fucking time, but you can share yourself with someone and still be independent. I swear it. Wouldn’t have believed it myself before coming here.’
‘You’re a walking Hallmark movie, Lottie Wright,’ I replied, lowering my glasses and smiling at her now sheepish expression. ‘And I am so fucking happy for you. That man is a sweetheart andalmostas hot as you.’
She raised her eyebrow, still smiling, knowing exactly what I was doing in ignoring the truth in her words. I knew they were true, but about as unreachable as me becoming a cowgirl and learning how to line dance. I groaned, remembering the event was tonight.
‘What?’ she said, letting me go in order to reach for her coffee again.
‘The line dance; I just remembered. I really can’t go in my normal clothes, can I?’ I glanced down at my black jeans and T-shirt, the fierce, masked face of the lead singer of my favourite metal band at odds with the sunny, raw wilderness spread out before us.
Lottie considered it, then shook her head.
‘I’d lend you some of my stuff, but . . .’ She gestured to my ample chest. ‘Pretty sure it’d give a very different look.’ I groaned, now contemplating the idea of clothes shopping, not something I was into or good at. ‘Ask Bailey,’ Lottie suggested. ‘She might have something?’
I thought of the perky, no-bull natural redhead. In the few conversations we’d had she’d projected an air of quiet confidence, someone driven in their ambition and not afraid to work for it. But there’d also been a tiny hint of something else. I smiled. Two birds with one stone – something to wear tonight and a new distraction, maybe even some . . . recreation.
It was mid-afternoon before I got my shit together enough to wander down to the barn. What felt like a lifetime of working into the evenings at the studio and getting up late was deeply ingrained, and anything before 11 a.m. felt like a punch in the mouth. In reality it was only three years since Cal and I had quit uni a year early, both bored to hell with degrees we’d realized would never pay us back.
I was still grateful to him, despite the dumpster fire our relationship had become, for believing in our ability to become the artists we’d slowly turned into, growing our client list into a waiting list. The money he’d inherited from his grandad had allowed us to rent the studio space and kick it all off, and somehow, three years had gone by in a fucking blur.
And for what?
