We scramble up the slippery rocks, slipping and sliding on the wet earth. Denton pulls on his shirt while we run for the horses. My jeans are soaked wet and there is no way I can get them back on. I tie my button-up around my waist so my ass won’t be rubbed raw on the ride back.
The horses whinny, sensing the change in weather, and we hurry onto their backs before the storm gets worse. We break out into a full run across the field. I feel so alive smiling from ear to ear. Denton looks like he’s hanging on for dear life and I can’t stop laughing at him.
“Let’s go, cowboy! Catch up!” I call out.
He pushes Zip harder and our horses run side by side.
By the time we put up the horses and reach the porch to my cabin, we’re soaked to the bone. I’m shivering—but still smiling.
“Want to warm up by the fire?” I ask, my voice shaky.
“Sure.”
A slight smile tugs at his lips. He follows me inside, and I busy myself trying to get the fire going. I turn my head looking back at him—his clothes are dripping wet, and all his things are back at the guesthouse.
“Let me see if I can find you something dry to wear.”
I feel him step up behind me. Slowly, I turn around to face him. His eyes catch mine, dark and intense, before he leans in and kisses me. Electricity shoots through my body, melting the cold away, leaving only the ache of wanting him. My hands slide beneath the hem of his shirt, lifting it over his head.
“I don’t want you catching a cold,” I say, a little breathless, tossing his shirt onto the floor.
“You either,” he whispers.
His fingers find the knot on my waist I tied my shirt in. He works at the knot as he gently brushes his fingers against my belly. When he finally gets it off, I shiver and look down at my wet shirt on the floor. He lifts my chin up looking into my eyes.
It’s been such a long time since I’ve been with anyone—the last time was the night I’ve tried to forget. My mind is all over the place, but deep down I know what I want. And I want it with him.
“We don’t have to do anything, Sorrel. We can just cuddle up by the fire and talk, watch a movie, whatever you’re comfortable with.”
The fire crackles softly, casting flickering shadows across the room. His hands are warm against my skin, steadying me as if to say everything is okay—that this is safe.
“I want you,” I say breathlessly.
Our lips crash together again, slower this time, savoring the taste and the feel of each other. I wrap my legs around him and run my fingers through his hair. I can feel him hard beneath me and his body shudders under mine. We break apart for a moment—he looks so beautiful, his green eyes bright, his hair slicked back but curling up at the bottom and dark from being wet. He smiles at me, a full toothy smile, showing the dimple on his left cheek that I rarely see. In this moment the weight of everything else disappears—the past, the hurt, the fear—fading away like ash off a fire. He traces the line of my jaw with gentle fingertips, his touch reverent, as if discovering something precious.
“Bedroom’s that way,” I whisper, nodding to the room behind me.
“I want you here,” he says as he picks me up and carries me toward the fireplace. Gently laying me down on the faux fur rug.
The world outside disappears; all that matters is the soft glow of the fire, the warmth of his body, and the steady rhythm of our breaths. I stretch my arms out as he devours my body. The rough wood is cool against my palms, grounding me.
Every kiss, every touch, is a promise—not just of desire, but of something deeper. I close my eyes and let myself be here, fully and completely, finally giving in to what my body has been craving for months. We move together slowly, with care and urgency tangled as one. There are no words, only the language of skin and heartbeats, two souls finding comfort and connection in the quiet heat of the moment. The storm continues to rage outside—the whole ranch could be washing away, but we’d never know, so consumed with each other, nothing else matters.
When the fire dies down to embers, we lie tangled in each other’s arms, the silence between us heavy with unspoken promises.
19
DENTON
The soft knock on the door stirs me awake. I blink against the morning light filtering through the curtains, Sorrel still tangled in my arms.
“Morning, beautiful.” My voice is husky, a gentle smile tugging at the corner of my lips.
Her eyes slowly begin to flutter open. Before she can respond, knocking comes again from the front door.
“Just ignore it,” she says, pulling me into her, but the knocking doesn't cease, louder this time.
Sorrel groans, untangling herself from me.
