Page 40 of Bucked By Love

“That noise you hear is called well loved.”

I grin. “Should I start rumbling, then?”

He grips my hip, his thumb rubbing up the curve of my waist. “Rumbling. Purring. Shaking. The whole nine.”

He scoops me in close and envelops my mouth with his. There’s a new intensity in our kisses. An urgency. We’ve waited this long, but now, the ache suddenly seems unbearable.

If we don’t stop kissing, I’m going to make him take my virginity right here, against the gate.

I tear my lips away from his. I rest my palm at his chest. “Okay, cowboy. Steal me away.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I hop into his truck and together, we drive off, leaving the Preacher Ranch in the dust.

We take the winding road towards the mountains that cradle Belleflower in their blue-tipped fingers. Ransom puts on music and I roll down the window to let the wind tease my hair.

Ransom pulls off the smoothly paved asphalt road and takes a detour down a dirt road. Every time the truck rolls over a bump, something clinks in the truck bed. We come to a stop in a corn field.

Here, in the middle of nowhere, Ransom kills the engine.

You know, the place serial killers take their victims.

I side-eye him. “We’re stopping here?”

He looks too pleased with himself. There’s nothing but trouble in that smug smile. “Just trust me. Think you can do that?”

“I think I don’t have a choice, but?—”

He unsnaps my seatbelt. “No. You don’t.”

He says it so definitively, I feel my body giving in. I like the take-charge version of Ransom. Even if his version of take charge is: you’re going to try something new, woman, and you’re going to enjoy it.

We both get out of the truck. We’re in a small clearing but, for the most part, we’re hedged in by tall, stiff rows of corn stalks. They hiss and rustle in the wind.

Ransom walks behind the truck, so I follow him. The back rattles as he tugs the frame down and shows me what he has in store for us.

He’s covered his truck bed with blankets and pillows. He’s expects me to have sex. In a truck. In the open. Worst of all, he looks thrilled by it.

“What d’you think?” he asks.

Claire thirty seconds ago would have said yes to anything.

Claire right now suddenly has limitations.

I cross my arms. “I’m not losing my virginity in the back of a truck.”

Ransom hops up. He flashes me his dumb, Ransom grin. “No. You’re not. We are.” He pats the place beside him. “Room for one more.”

I relent. He gives me his hand and I let him help me up into the truck bed. I brush the back of my dress down and settle on a cushion.

He’s tried to make it cozy. There’s a picnic basket in the back of the truck. Blankets all around. A soft lantern to set the mood. But I can’t help but think…

What would Mr. Darcy do?

Certainly not this.

But then Ransom gets onto his back. Trying not to sour the mood, I follow suit, laying down beside him.

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