Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 84377 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84377 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
“You want a safe word.”
“I want equal power in this.”
He steers Ginny past the quiet bunkhouse, over a hill, and across another meadow. I assume his silence means he’s thinking about my offer. Or maybe he just likes to make me sweat.
About fifty yards up ahead, his brother stands beside a brown stallion and stares over a ledge.
Jarret slows Ginny to a crawling halt and meets my eyes over his shoulder. “If you say stop, it’s over. It doesn’t just end the scene. This, us, your pursuit of truth—all of it ends. You’ll get in your car and drive away.”
“Deal.”
He twists around to face me, angling slightly off the horse with only the strength in his legs to hold him on. Then he grips the back of my neck and yanks my mouth to his.
A current of hunger sparks across his lips as they brush against mine. I splay a hand against his shoulder, intending to push him away, but instead I leave it there. Dear God, I can’t even fight the thoughts rolling through me. His scent, his minty taste, everything about him is consuming. Persuasive. He floods my senses.
His tongue slides along the seam of my lips, demanding entry, and I grant it. My heart flutters. His breathing quickens, and we fall into a kiss that ruins me for all others.
I press closer, crawling halfway onto his lap, clinging to him as he devours my mouth softly, deeply, so deliciously unhurried and nothing like I expected.
My borrowed hat bumps his, and his twisted position in the saddle feels precarious, but I don’t want him to stop.
His hand rests below my ear, his thumb caressing my cheek. His tongue explores mine, communicating a story worthy of more. A story I will never write but will always remember.
Because I love this—the hungry taste of his mouth, the skillful way he controls mine, the bunch of his muscles around me, the perfect fit of our lips, the ease in which I relent as he wraps my braid around his fist, pulling tighter, harder.
Then he leans back and opens hooded eyes.
“Maybe.” He prolongs each syllable and licks his lips.
I don’t know if he’s saying my name or answering a question I didn’t ask. I’m so damn dizzy. Tangled in sensations. Thoroughly seduced.
He rights himself in the saddle and guides my limp arms around his waist. As if he didn’t just kiss the wind out of me, he kicks Ginny into a fast gait and steers us to where Jake waits.
That’s when I realize my mistake. He gave me the power I asked for, but it’s all or nothing. If I stop his devious game, I’ll lose access to him. I won’t do that unless I absolutely have to.
If a safe word ends a relationship, it isn’t a safe word at all. It means I’ll allow more with the hope of keeping this going than I normally would. It’s dubious, and he knows it.
But he already said this won’t be safe.
I have no one to blame but myself.
When we reach the creek, Jarret helps me dismount the horse and follows me down. His demeanor is all business, and that excites me. It’ll be kind of cool to experience a real-life dilemma on a working ranch.
I follow the sound of throaty, agitated mooing to the edge of a fifteen-foot sandy bank. At the bottom, a white calf kicks along the creek bed, water sloshing halfway up his legs as he searches for a way out.
There’s no shoreline or beach. Just steep walls of mud and roots on both sides in either direction. The poor thing must’ve tumbled all the way down.
“How old?” I ask.
“Six days.” Jarret unties a bundle of rope from the saddle.
He’s just a baby. Every inch of him is white, except for those big black ears and adorable black nose and mouth and oh my God, are those black eyelashes? He looks like a little lamb.
I’m instantly and utterly in love.
“How will you get him out?” I press a hand against my chest, aching with each scared cry he bellows at us.
“We’ll rope it and shimmy it through the water to where the bank levels out.” Jake points downstream.
Jarret knots the end of his rope like a lasso. I step out of the way as he throws it. The noose lands around the calf’s neck, but the instant Jarret pulls, the calf goes crazy and bucks free.
Jake laughs. “Slippery sucker.”
“How many times have you tried?” Jarret glances at his brother.
“’Bout a dozen times.”
“He’s so scared.” I crouch on the ledge, searching for a path I could slide down. “There must be an easier way.”
“They’re always frantic in this situation.” Jarret gathers the rope to prepare another throw. “It’s like trying to catch a wild dog that’s attacking with everything it’s got.”
Because he doesn’t want to be roped. He’s down there all alone and traumatized and just wants to find his mother.