Page 27 of Wrangle Me, Cowboys

“Was that too much?” he asked.

“Yes,” I panted, still out of breath. “But no.”

For the first time, a genuine smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “This is just the beginning,” he said. “Now that you’ve had a taste, are you still on board for being in a relationship with three men?”

“Waylon Westling,” I said. “Are you propositioning me?”

“Didn’t I already do that?”

“Usually you let the others do the talking.”

“They’re better at it,” he said, looking away.

For the first time, I realized maybe his silence wasn’t arrogance. Could he be self-conscious about something? Waylon, this impenetrable mountain of steel?

“I think you’re pretty good at it,” I said, snuggling closer to his chest. “You talked to me by the fire that night.”

He made a soft, snorting noise but didn’t answer. After a minute, his arms tightened around me, and he kissed my hair. I realized then that he’d had his tongue deeper inside me than I’d ever had anything, except maybe my own finger, but he’d never even kissed my lips. The thought made my face burn for a second, but it quickly turned to a sense of naughtiness.

I’d never thought of myself as someone who wanted to feel dirty and wild, but maybe I did. I had fantasies, but I’d never shared them with Charlie, of course. He would have shamed me. I played at being a bad girl, but I was only the closely regulated version of one that Charlie allowed. He made the rules not only about how far we could go, but how far I could go, how wild I could be.

I could party and get drunk and puke out the door of a cab, I could put my leg behind my head in front of an entire bar. And Charlie was cool, he wasn’t jealous. He’d laugh along with everyone else. He’d let me dance with other men. I’d even kissed other men when I was wasted, though I didn’t remember it. He’d told me. And he’d forgiven me. But I’d felt like dirt for it. It hadn’t been my choice, really, but because I was out of control drunk and horny as hell.

Now here I was, in full control of myself. And in control of how far not just I went, not just my boyfriend, but three men. I set the rules here. I made the boundaries, not them. I was the one in power. And I could be as dirty as I wanted to be.

If I had fantasies, no matter what they were, I felt safe to share them without judgment. After all, they had opened themselves and shared their deepest wish with me. I hadn’t judged them, hadn’t run. And when I shared mine, I knew at least one of the guys would be eager to fulfill them—if not all of them. I could have any of them, or all of them, or none of them, whenever I wanted. I had choices. But why choose?

It was hard to think beyond basic sex when you couldn’t have anything. Now the world had opened before me. I felt like I was becoming a new person, at least sexually. I was blossoming. I could be anyone I wanted, as wild or as chaste as I chose. I set the pace. I made the rules.

I lifted my face to Waylon. “Kiss me,” I whispered.

And he did.

16

Amber

The next day, I asked Grimes to saddle up Van Gogh so I could ride. I stood back watching him work, trying to memorize everything he was doing. I’d seen Holden do it before, and it didn’t look too hard. If I could lift it, I could probably saddle her up myself.

As usual, Grimes didn’t say a word, but he gave me creepy looks every now and then, eyeing my body like a dog watching meat marinating on the counter. Since I was wearing a scarf and a puffy yellow down jacket, his lusty looks were either a testament to how little he was getting from his wife or how much marshmallow Peeps turned him on.

When he finished saddling the horse, I took the reins and led her out, trying not to notice his eyes slithering down my legs as I passed him. Outside, I shoved my foot in the stirrup, grabbed the saddle horn, and hoisted myself up. I threw my leg over Van Gogh, got myself settled into the saddle, and gave the horse a gentle squeeze with my knees, shaking the reigns to encourage her. Relieved to be away from Grimes, I let my hood fall back and the chilly wind whip through my hair, searing my cheeks.

It felt good to be out in the fresh air, in all that wide open space. I realized as I rode that all that emptiness around me didn’t feel weird anymore, like I’d hurtle off the earth because there was nothing to hold onto. When I’d first come to Wyoming, it had seemed too big, but now, as the horse began to trot, I realized that I loved all that space. Space to run the horses, to move the cows from one pasture to the next. Space to run away and think when I needed to.

If I was living with three guys, there were bound to be days when I needed my space. As much as I desired and adored them, I liked my own time, too. It might get exhausting to be wanted by three men all the time. I tried to imagine the four of us crammed up in some tiny New York apartment. It just wouldn’t do.

But out here…out here, I could ride away on Van Gogh, have space to breathe. And it wasn’t really empty space, like I’d thought when I arrived. There was lots here—the aspens along the edge of the property, fences dividing it, a creek, grass, bits of snow in the shade, fields, feeders, barns, hay bales, watering tanks, ponds, farm equipment, the little cabins…

In a way, the place had as much going on as New York. It was just a lot lower here, except for the mountains in the distance.

I wondered if the guys ever visited their dad in New York. I couldn’t imagine them hurrying around under all those lights, between so many tall buildings. As soon as I thought about them, my belly warmed at the memory of the night before. Were they thinking about it this morning, too?

A delicious shiver went through me when I remembered the way Waylon had just thrown me down on the table and devoured me. Picturing it made me wet, my body heating up in anticipation of it happening again. I couldn’t wait to feel his tongue inside me …Sawyer’s playful lips on my skin…Holden’s simple words that made me feel so very naughty.

If Charlie liked bad girls, well, he’d love me now.

I snuggled into my parka with a smug smile at the thought of him coming over to Haley’s after I caught him cheating. Begging for me to hear him out while I pelted his car with eggs. To my surprise, the memory no longer tore into my heart like barbed wire through skin. Maybe what they said was true. The best way to get over a guy was to get under another.