Page 63 of Sexting the Cowboy
“I was checking on my patient.”
“You dropped your bag.”
Her lips twitch. “You’re insufferable.”
“But you suffer me all the same.”
She exhales, shaking her head, and for a moment she leans into me again, forehead resting against my chest. I wrap my arms around her because I can’t not. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
She nods once. “You did.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
The silence after that is heavy but not bad. It’s the kind that fills itself. I can feel her heartbeat against mine, quick but steadying. The world is still too loud, still spinning, but right here—this tiny pocket of quiet, of her—it all slows down.
“You ride like you’re trying to outrun something,” she says finally.
“Maybe I am.”
She tilts her head up again. “What?”
“The past…the endless future…everything. But you make me want to stop and be still and enjoy the moment.”
Her eyes soften, and for once she doesn’t argue.
We stand there in the half-light of the stalls, in each other’s arms. Somewhere, someone’s laughing, a horse stamps, the announcer’s voice echoes faintly. None of it matters.
Right now, it’s just her. And the taste of her lips is still on mine.
A shudder passes through her. “I can’t…”
Not sure I want to hear the rest of that sentence. But I have to ask. “You can’t what?”
Her breaths heave. Stress. Longing. Something else. I can’t tell. But when she looks up into my eyes, everything else fades away. The strength returns to her voice. “I can’t lose you.”
That does something funny in my chest. “You won’t?—”
Her mouth is on me before I can finish. Her fingertips trace through my hair, pulling me tighter to her, forcing me to her mouth like she needs the air in my lungs. My hands sink to her round ass and cup her there. Again, I’m not sure which of us moves first, or if we move together, but the weight of her is in my hands as she grabs my shoulders and latches her legs around my waist. I turn and press her back against the stall’s outer wall, and my hard-on digs against the seam of my jeans as I kiss her and grind myself between her thighs.
Whatever this thing is between us, I can’t help myself. I want this woman more than life itself.
When she groans in my ear, my brain goes blank, but some part of me has enough wherewithal to find an empty stall. It’s clean—must not be in use. Inside, there’s a small bench, clean hay, and nothing else. The neighbor is a sleeping mare.
Two thoughts go through my brain at the same time.
This is a public place.
This is the perfect place.
I pull back, and she must read my mind. Her nimble fingers work quick on my belt buckle as she kneels. I stroke her hair to get her attention. “Darlin’, what are you up to?”
She smirks when she looks up at me. “I’m not up to anything. I’m down to something.” Then she unzips me, and her warm hand is on my cock before I can add color commentary.
An involuntary hiss escapes me. “That is?—”
Her mouth is on me.
