Page 80 of Brim Over Boot
I snort, frankly having no sympathy for the man.
He leans closer, his chest lining my back and his voice beside my ear. “Wecouldshare the saddle.”
“Fuck right off,” I tell him, willing myself not to get a boner. Not right now, for Christ’s sake. “There’s no room.”
He chuckles, his fingers slipping through the rips at the top of my jeans. What the fuck is he doing? “Bet there would be room with you on my lap,” he whispers.
My inhale is sharp, the suggestion in his words impossible to miss. “I swear to God, Noah, I will leave you on the side of this mountain without a single ounce of regret.”
He snorts, leaning back slightly. His fingers don’t leave my thighs.
I glance down at my jeans. At Noah’s fingertips disappearing under the denim, his touch hot against my equally scorched skin.
I’m grateful when we reach the clue box.
Noah lets go of me and slides down off Clementine, grabbing two scrolls from within the box. He closes the lid before getting back behind the saddle.
“It’s another map,” he says, handing me one of the scrolls.
Instead of a dot on the trail like last time, this one is a visual depiction of stairs leading to an overlook, an X placed on top. I recognize the spot, having spent a lot of my youth exploring this land. These are the closest public trails to the ranch, this mountain range visible from the house. The overlook indicated on the map is near Hawk Hollow’s beak, a beautiful view beyond it.
“It’s this way,” I say to Noah, giving Clementine a gentle press of my heel to get moving.
He’s suspiciously quiet behind me, his hands resting on my thighs again, fingertips edged under the fabric of my jeans as if in search of a home.
Clearing my throat, I say, “No one would believe this, you know. The two of us getting along.”
He hums. “If anyone asks, I’ll say you kidnapped me.”
“Rescuedyou,” I put in, punching his leg best I can from this position.
He merely snorts. “I do appreciate the pickup, Colton. Not thatthisis what I expected when I called.”
“Beggars can’t be choosers,” I chide.
“Colt,” he says quietly, his tone of voice putting me on high alert. “I think we both know, out of the two of us, I’m not the beggar.”
I close my eyes and let out a slow breath, wanting so badly to be rankled by his words. Only I can’t muster up the outrage. He makes mewant. Even though it’shim. Even as I’m mortified by my own terrible, wrong attraction and the fact that Ienjoybegging. Because every time I ask anything of him, Noah gives it to me. He makes me feelgood.
Why? Why is he doing this? Whyme?
“Lost your tongue?” Noah asks, his tone softly teasing, his fingers trailing over my thighs again. He damn well knows the effect he has on me, and that pisses me off, too.
Or, at least, it should.
“No,” I say, a surge of perverse courage making me add, “Just wondering when you’re finally going to make use of it.”
Noah goes still apart from the flexing of his fingers. “Is that so?”
Oh, fuck.
That voice.
Part of me wonders what the fuck I’m doing, but it doesn’t stop my words from spilling free.
“You keep threatening to put me on my knees,” I point out, my pulse thrumming wildly as I lead Clementine around a bend in the trail. “But so far, that’s all it is. A threat.”
Noah curses behind me, the sound almost too quiet to pick up. “Oh, little Colt. I don’t make idle threats.”
