Page 60 of Wild and Unruly
She was perfect, and I was a man who would never take advantage of the gift that she was.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous, it’s killing me,” I rasp out, my lips gliding over her glowing skin.
Bonnie moans softly, letting her eyes close and just feeling every sensation that I am giving her. I was still fully dressed, but right now, my focus was on only her, and I was okay with that.
I had thought what I felt toward Annmarie was love. I thought I knew what it was like to be completely obsessed with someone, but I was wrong. What I felt for Bonnie, what I felt in my chest as my obsession and, frankly, love for her, was completely new to me.
I kiss my way over her stomach, abandoning my hold on her wrists in order to take my fingers and slide her panties down over her thighs, exposing her to me.
She was perfection.
And she was all mine.
I stand, kicking off my boots, unable to hold back any longer because I want to hold and kiss and love on this woman for as long as she would let me.
I rid myself of my clothes, watching as she sits up, sliding the straps of her bra down and unhooking the back. Her eyes don’t leave mine, and maybe she doesn’t mean to, but what her stare does to me is so fucking naturally sexy that I am going to lose my mind.
She moves, sliding the neatly made comforter down the bed and sliding underneath, and I don’t know what the feeling is that comes over me when I slide in next to her, naked and eyes intent on hers, but I feel like this was how I wanted to start every night for the rest of my life.
I move my body over hers, aching to move lower, but I can’ttake my eyes off of this woman underneath me. She’s uncovered this side of me that I never knew existed.
I was the youngest, always protected. But now I have something that is mine to protect. As I slide into her heat, as her legs wrap around my waist and her nails cling to my skin, I know that as long as I live, I will do everything in my power to protect her.
22
bonnie
The floorthat housed the employees ofHorse Universewas bustling when I came in. The final week before the physical magazine went to print is always a mad rush to meet deadlines for the printers, and everyone worked in a rush to get their stories in at the last minute.
I stomp through the long hallway that leads to my cubicle and pause there, tossing down some papers and checking my desk for messages. Nothing that was urgent. I take stock of my little space, filled with old memories from our showing days and a few potted plants to bring some energy and comfort to the space. My coffee mug sits near my computer, covered in a thin layer of dust. I don’t think I’ve touched it in a month.
It was pretty unnecessary for me to even have a cubicle, given that I was usually traveling for my pieces. Most of my work was written from the inside of a hotel room or local coffee shop.
“Helix!” My boss’s voice snaps me back to reality and Ithrow my bag down, grabbing my laptop and heading toward her office. Hers was encased in glass and had spacious views of downtown Denver, with the backdrop of the Rocky Mountains behind her. I was jealous of this office. I had this dream where I would work my way up to this kind of position, where I would run this magazine and finally feel worthy of that glorious mountain view.
Now, I wonder if that’s even what I want.
Images from my memories of the ranch flash through my mind: the gorgeous mountain views, the easy lifestyle at the ranch, the friends I’ve made. And out of all of those memories, the images pause on one face. Stetson.
I was well in over my head, and something in me didn’t care. I trust him.
“Where are you at with that ranch article?” Her voice hits me the moment my foot hits her doorway, and I feel a sense of rushing, of urgency that I haven’t in a few weeks. I study her form, hunched over her desk. She’s got long brown hair that she twists into a clip every day. Her glasses hang down on her nose, and she is a stocky five feet four inches, and every part of her is intimidating.
With her head down, I take the seat in front of her desk and take a deep breath. She still hasn’t lifted her head from whatever is in front of her, but this was how she worked. If she wasn’t doing three things at once, she wasn’t doing enough.
Her words, not mine.
“I’m almost finished, just have a few?—”
“Bonnie, you’ve been there for almost a month. What is the holdup? Are you really struggling to find some substance there?”
That was usually the case because I didn’t feel right goingsomewhere and not giving whomever I was interviewing a fair shake. I would stay and pull at any thread to make the story good enough for Virginia, my boss.
“Actually, it’s the opposite. There’s so much happening that I’m having trouble getting everything. I have?—”
Not being a fan of long-winded explanations, she interrupts. “Get what you have, make it a good story, and be done. I have another spot for you to cover.”
My stomach drops at the mention of being done, of not needing to go back to the ranch again or not seeing Stetson on a daily basis.
