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I lift my hand and tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Then I drag the backs of my knuckles slowly along her jaw. She goes still, breathing hard. I tip her chin up with one finger so she's got nowhere to look but at me. "You made a mess of yourself," I say as my thumb catches a drop of water at the corner of her mouth. I brush it away, and her lips part with the movement. The sight sends a shiver down my spine.

"I was hot," she breathes.

"You keep saying that." I let my hand leave her face, trailing it down the side of her neck where her pulse races beneath my fingertips. I brush over her damp collarbone and feel her shiver under my touch, even though it's ninety-five degrees out here. My fingers trace the outside of her arm, then drift back to her side, slow enough that I feel her breath catch with every brush against her ribs.

"Chace," she exhales, the sound more plea than warning.

"Tell me to stop, Addie," I whisper, my voice barely more than breath against her ear. I keep my hand exactly where it is, not moving an inch, giving her every chance to end this.

Her eyes come up to mine, dark, furious, and wanting. "Don’t stop, Chace."

Fuuuuccck.

Something inside me snaps. I press in, closing the last sliver of space between us, my mouth finding the spot just beneath her ear, along the curve of her jaw. "You feel that?" I murmur, letting my hips settle against hers just long enough that she knows exactly what she's done to me. "That's your fault," I say, my voice rough. "That's been your fault for far too long."

I hold her gaze for another beat. "You want to keep playing this game, Sunshine..." The corner of my mouth tugs into the faintest grin. "You ought to know what you're playing with."

A small, wrecked sound comes from her throat. Her hands come up and grab the belt loops of my jeans, and instead of pushing me away, she pulls me impossibly closer, grinding herself against my cock. A rough possessive growl escapes my mouth.

"Beg me, Addie," I breathe against her hair. My hand splays flat and greedy over her hip now, thumb digging into that soft, bare stretch of skin above her shorts. "That's all it takes. Two words and I'll put my mouth on you right here. You just have to ask me for it."

Her hand slides over my back and digs in, fingers pressing into muscle like she's trying to memorize the shape of me. Her leg slides up the inside of mine, slow and deliberate, and then her knee settles against me — right where I want her most — rocking back and forth in a slow, steady rhythm.

"Christ—" My forehead drops to the truck beside her head, my hand clamps down on her hip hard enough to leave marks, and I'm holding on like it's the only thing keeping me standing, because it might be.

She turns her head. Her mouth grazes my jaw, and when she speaks, her voice is pure sugar and poison, breathless and thrilled with herself. "What's the matter, Cowboy?" Another slow, filthy press of her knee, and I have to grit my teeth to keep from grinding into it like a teenager. "You still seem a little distracted."

I pull back just far enough to look at her. She’s flushed, soaked, chest heaving, and eyes lit up like she just won something. She's got my heart going through my ribs and every ounce of my self-control gone up in flames. She knows it, and she is delighted.

"You're gonna regret starting this," I promise her.

"Prove it." Her knee shifts, and her nails drag down my back.

I lower my head towards her. Her breath catches as I get close enough that I can actually feel her lips parting for me…

An air horn suddenly blasts straight through the tension, and we jump apart like teenagers caught kissing on a front porch. It's a big living-quarters hauler with a feed-company logo wrapped down the side. The passenger window rolls down. An older guy in a straw hat leans out the window, and a woman I take for his wife leans in behind him to see.

"Y'all need a hand?" he calls. "Saw the trailer settin' funny. That your rubber back up the road?"

"Yes, sir." My voice comes out about eighty percent normal, which is a miracle. I walk toward them, grateful for something to do with my body that isn't what it wanted to do thirty seconds ago. "Blew a tire and bent the rim. Waiting on a tow, but it’s hours out."

He whistles low. "That'll ruin an afternoon." He's already killing the engine and swinging the door open. "Well, hell, we can't leave you settin' out here," he says, and jerks a thumb toward the back of his rig. "Got a couple empty box stalls. Your horse can ride in with ours. Assume ya’ll are heading to Cheyenne?"

“Yes, Sir. We are.”

We get to work. He drops his ramp, and between the two of us we load a deeply skeptical Dusty into the stranger's trailer — he plants his feet and gives me one long look of pure betrayal before Addie clucks at him, and he walks right up like a gentleman, because of course he does, because she asked.

They've got room for the horse and one rider. Not the camper, not the truck, and definitely not two grown adults plus their gear. Which means somebody's got to stay with the rig and wait on the tow, ride it into whatever shop'll take it in the morning. While the other one goes on ahead to Cheyenne.

"Go," I tell Addie, before she can start arguing about it. Like hell am I going to let her be the one alone on the shoulder of the highway. "Take Dusty in, get him a stall, get some sleep. I'll ride in with the tow and crash in the camper tonight."

"Chace—"

"It's my truck, Sunshine. Dusty needs you." I nod at Dusty, already loaded and looking smug about his new accommodations. "He needs to be somewhere with water and shade tonight, not sitting on the side of a highway. Go. Take my tent to sleep in."

She hesitates. "You'll be okay?"

Something goes tight in my chest with her question. Nobody asks me that. I've made a career out of nobody needing to. "I've slept in worse places than a camper in a tow lot," I say, and it's truer than she knows. "Text me when you get settled."