Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 112903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
What if we have sex and it’s so good that I let down my defenses and actually admit to myself just how hard I’ve fallen for him, and then I’m too heartbroken to go back to New York?
Am I secretly dying for that to happen?
But that’s assuming Wyatt would want me to stay. And it’s pretty obvious that the only semi-romantic interest he has in me is purely physical. It’s all he feels for any girl he’s with. That’s just him. As much as I’d like to think I’m different—that he’d feel differently about me because we have so much history—I just don’t think that’s the case.
It hurts a little, if I’m being honest. But beggars can’t be choosers. And aren’t I getting what I asked for? I told myself I didn’t want love. I want kissing and touching and really great sex, and Wyatt is offering me all that on a silver platter. I have no right to complain.
But I do have a right to feel my feelings. I just wish they didn’t make this all so complicated.
I urge Penny into an all-out sprint, and we catch up to Wyatt in no time. His eyes flash with something like appreciation as we go nose-to-nose.
The fence comes into view, along with an enormous tree with bare branches that’s fifty or so yards ahead.
“The oak,” Wyatt shouts. “First one to the oak!”
Several heartbeats later, I reach up to slap a low-hanging branch at exactly the same time Wyatt does.
I still yell, “I win!”
“No, ma’am, you did not. I did.”
Wyatt is breathing hard as he circles around the oak’s wide trunk to face me. I can see the sweat glistening on his forehead and a slice of thick, well-muscled neck that peeks through his bandana.
I guide Penny forward, holding out my hand as I rub my thumb against the tips of my fingers. “I’ll take my money now.”
“You ain’t gettin’ jack because you didn’t win.”
“Don’t think I won’t reach inside that pocket myself.” I nod at his jeans.
He lifts his eyebrows. “I’d like to see you try.”
With a speed that startles both of us, I reach over and shove my fingers inside his pocket. The denim is soft, warm from the sun. He grabs my wrist and pulls out my hand, but when I try to pull back my arm, he refuses to let me go.
“Stop,” I wheeze, my sides seizing with laughter.
“I know what you’re really after.”
“What’s that?”
“A li’l bit of this”—he guides my hand to his chest, then moves it lower over his belly, lower, as he fights a fit of giggles—“and this.”
I feel his abdominal muscles bunching as he laughs. He’s so solid here, so broad and hard.
Somebody pinch me. I still can’t get over the fact that I’m able to touch him like this.
I lift my hand a little and curl my fingers, tickling him, and he immediately twists in the saddle as he gasps for air. Seeing him laugh this hard makes me laugh hard. So hard that I can’t breathe.
“You knew,” I manage, “I’d do this. How did you”—I gasp—“forget how ticklish you are?”
“Because—” A beat passes. Another. “Bein’ around you—makes it hard to think—sometimes.”
My fingers go still. So does everything inside me as Wyatt’s eyes lock on mine.
A breeze ruffles the long, shaggy hair at his neck. He’s close enough that I can see the copper threads in his beard.
I don’t realize I’m staring at his mouth until that mouth gets closer.
Much, much closer.
Wyatt’s about to kiss me, isn’t he? My pulse riots, and my lips tingle, and then—
“Hello, friends.”
Wyatt and I immediately fall back at the sound of Sawyer’s voice. I have no idea how we didn’t hear him before, seeing as he’s on horseback trotting toward us. Ella, his three-year-old daughter, sits in front of him in the saddle. She’s wearing a pink riding helmet that matches her pink boots.
“Morning, Sawyer.” I smile at his daughter. “And good morning, Ella. We were just…coming to find y’all.”
Sawyer’s lips twitch. “That so?”
“Ella ride with Uncle Wy?” The little girl reaches out for Wyatt. “Ella loves him.”
“Uncle Wy looks like he’s busy trying to get someone else to ride him.” Sawyer clears his throat. “I mean, ride with him.”
“Can you not?” A flush works its way up Wyatt’s neck.
Sawyer looks at me. “Only because I like Sally so much. Sorry if we interrupted y’all.”
“You didn’t interrupt anything,” I reply far too brightly. “Wyatt owes me money, so—”
“She tried to steal it by digging in my pocket.”
Sawyer grins. “There’s a joke in there about pockets and rockets, but I won’t make it since there are children present.”
“I hate you,” Wyatt says wearily.
Ella kicks her feet, still holding out her hands. “Ella loves you!”
“Right! How could I forget?” Wyatt guides his horse toward Sawyer. With a small grunt, he lifts Ella out of Sawyer’s saddle, pressing a noisy kiss to her cheek before settling her on his own saddle. “I love you too, Ellie Belly Boo.”