Page 9 of The First Day of Breeding Season
Some of us haven’t had sex in years. Some of us haven’t really ever had sex, not the way most people do, because we’re big terrifying oafs with zero people skills who scare women every time we look at them.
The sum total of my life experiences in that area is a few fumbled moments, quick and forgettable.
“Look, Miss Hughes, we don’t got room for you in the bunkhouse,” I finally say.
Pop.
Her face falls.
“Where am I staying, then?” Her voice quivers with uncertainty.
“It’s not a requirement to live on site.”
“I can sleep in the barn,” she offers. “I have a sleeping bag.”
She can’t be serious. I stare at her in disbelief. “You can’t sleep in thebarn.”
Her expression turns desperate.
“I don’t have a place to live this summer,” she says in a rush, her words tumbling over each other. “My scholarship included student housing but only September to May, and I didn’t get a job because you said I could do this placement and if I don’t have a job I can’t afford rent, and I don’t know if you’ve tried to rent an apartment without having money to pay that rent, but it’s actually very hard. Plus, Dr. Lowry said?—”
“Round here, he’s just Noah,” I growl, cutting her off. And I don’t care whatNoahpromised her, he should’ve thought about the consequences of inviting a girl like this onto the ranch. I pace away from her, my chest heaving. “I need a minute to think.”
“Wait, please—” She lunges forward, grabbing at my arm.
Her touch is stronger than I expect, strong enough to halt me in my tracks, and her fingers slide along my forearm.
Her gaze falls to where she’s clutching my wrist.
“What…” She circles her thumb against the dark hair on my forearm that disguises the tattooed knot right over my wrist.
Slowly, she turns my arm over to look at my exposed wrist, where the rope frays a little. All of the breath in her body rushes out of her in a shocked little exhale. “Whoa.”
Whoais right.
I thought I was hard before, but I’m aching, my erection heavy and throbbing.
“You like that?” I ask thickly, hearing my voice from a distance.You like Daddy’s ink? It’s older than you, little girl.
She doesn’t answer right away.
It’s as if she’s transfixed.
I sway closer as she rubs at the realistic ink. “That rope’s been there for twenty-two years, waiting for someone to notice it.”
She whimpers, a soft, tiny sound that burrows deep under my skin. “That long, huh?”
“Oh, the stories I could tell you,” I huff out, laughing under my breath.
“I hope you do.” She clears her throat and lifts her face, blinking away the curious wonder in a flash. “So, if not the barn, where can I sleep?”
The woman has more self-control than I do. I was ready to pick her up and carry her into the nearest empty stall in the barn and show her the rest of my ink.
“I’ll find you a room to put your stuff in,” I mutter.
She nods. “Thank you.”
I turn on my heel and stalk toward the house.
