Page 58 of Open Arms

My climax built fast and hot, spurred on by the primal sounds falling from her lips. When I came, it was like a dam breaking, pleasure flooding every cell of my body. My cock twitched inside her, relishing the feel of every movement, every squeeze from her inner walls.

Chloe continued to move above me, drawing out the intensity until I was boneless beneath her.

As the waves receded, leaving us spent and clinging to each other, I pressed my forehead to hers, both of us panting, both of us silent.

I sat back against the worn leather of my office couch, a tangle of limbs with Chloe still nestled against me. My heart was thudding in my chest, a staccato rhythm that matched the confusion swirling in my brain.

“Chloe,” I started, voice rough with more than just spent desire. “That was . . .” Words failed me, and I shifted my gaze to her, searching her face for clues.

“Unexpected?” she offered, a wry smile touching her lips even as she avoided meeting my eyes.

“Definitely that.” I ran a hand through my hair, feeling strands stick up at odd angles. But hell, who was I trying to impress now?

Her laughter, light and somehow sad, filled the small office.

“Talk to me, Chlo.” The words were gentle, but insistent. “What brought this on?”

She looked away, staring at a spot on the wall as if it held all the answers. “Can’t a girl just want to feel alive sometimes?” Her voice was a whisper, but it cut through me like a blade.

“Sure, she can,” I said slowly. “But there’s more. I can see it.”

Chloe shook her head, her blonde hair creating a golden halo around her face. “It’s nothing. Really.” But the way her fingers twisted into the fabric of my forgotten jeans told a different story.

“Chloe.” My tone left no room for deflection.

“Please, Mason.” Now her blue eyes met mine, pleading. “Let’s not do this. Not now.”

I stood up, feeling the weight of her secrets like a storm cloudhovering over us. Quietly, and with a kind of hasty care, I dressed her, then myself.

“Come on,” I said, reaching for her hand with a gentle tug.

“Where are we going?” Chloe’s voice was small, but curiosity flickered in her eyes.

“Somewhere we can talk. Or not talk. Just . . . be.” My grip on her hand was firm, yet careful, as if she were a rare bird I didn’t want to startle.

We left my office and walked across the dusty expanse of the ranch. I didn’t miss the way her fingers tightened around mine while we headed toward my truck. The old Ford had seen better days, but it was reliable—kind of like me, I reckoned.

“Your chariot awaits,” I joked, opening the passenger door for her with a flourish that earned me a ghost of a smile. That smile . . . it was worth every bit of effort.

“Thank you, kind sir,” she played along, her voice light but her eyes still shadowed with that thing she wouldn’t name.

The engine rumbled to life, and I steered us away from the main buildings. We drove past the paddocks where the horses grazed, serene in the afternoon sun. A breeze laced with the scent of hay and wildflowers blew through the open windows, soothing some of the tension between us.

“Where are we going, Mason?” She turned to look at me, her blue eyes searching.

“Somewhere special.” My voice was low, almost a promise.

The dirt road snaked ahead, leading us to a part of the ranch that few knew about. I killed the engine beside a copse of trees, the leaves whispering secrets to one another. We got out, and I led her through an archway made by interlocking branches, stepping into a clearing that opened up to a view of the rolling hills and a small, tranquil pond.

“Wow,” she breathed out, her gaze sweeping over the landscape.

“Few people know about this spot. Just the family. And, well, me, I guess. It’s peaceful. Thought you might like it.” I watched her, saw the way the corners of her mouth lifted ever so slightly.

“It’s beautiful, Mason.”

“Like you,” I said without thinking, then cleared my throat.

“Thank you.” Her cheeks flushed pink, and she looked away. But not before I saw the grateful glint in her eyes.

---