Page 37 of The No Falling Rule
I look up just in time to see her face transform with ecstasy. She’s the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen.
I close my eyes and focus on breathing as I keep pumping my fingers inside her, letting her ride the wave of pleasure.
Her head tilts back, her chest rising and falling wildly, as a chuckle escapes her lips. She’s wild and radiant—utterly free. And she’s mine.
This.
This is what I want for the rest of my life.
“So… horses?” she asks with a laugh, blowing a strand of hair from her face.
“Yeah, baby. Let’s go for a ride,” I say, straightening her bikini bottom and grabbing a few tissues from the office near the stall to help her clean up.
Once my senses finally return, I send up a silent prayer of thanks that none of the ranch hands decided to check the stables. I mean, it’s Christmas Eve—the real day of celebration in Latin America—so I knew the chances were slim to none. Still, I’m grateful.
Now I just have to make it through the wedding—to finally have Mia the way I’ve wanted her since the moment we met.
And then… I’ll have to tell her the truth.
That I broke our rule. That somewhere between her laughter and the way she says my name, I fell hard.
That I’m already at her mercy.
Chapter 12
Mia
“Carly!” I shout the moment I step into our bungalow. Diego and I spent way more time exploring his family’s estate than I anticipated, but the second I saw all those horses, I couldn’t help stopping to meet every single one of them.
Now I’mrushing to get ready for the wedding, but Carly’s nowhere to be found.
I head to her room. No light seeps from under the door. But I knock anyway. Nothing.
“Carly?” I ask again, softer this time, my knuckles tapping against the wood.
It’s way too late for her to be still volunteering. The thought that something might’ve happened makes my chest tighten. I’d never forgive myself.
I press my ear to the door. At first, there’s silence—then the faintest sound.
“Carly, I’m coming in,” I say before turning the knob. It’s not locked. Light from the living area spills across the room, outlining her silhouette on the bed. She has her knees pressed to her chest, her arms wrapped around them. She’s rocking back and forth gently, as if she’s crying.
I take a step closer and come to a stop. I don’t want to scare her, but seeing her like this—distraught—is sending me into a state of panic I don’t have time for.
“Hey,” I whisper, climbing onto the bed and lying down across from her. “What happened?”
Carly wipes at her face, and in the soft light, I can see the tear tracks she missed. Her nose is red and irritatedfrom all the wiping. When I glance at the floor, there’s a small mountain of crumpled tissues scattered around.
Good lord, how long has she been crying?
When she hands me her phone, I see a text thread.
And my eyes widen at the name on the screen.
River “Crabby” MacAllister:I wish I had the words to talk to you, but I never do. Many years ago a big part of me died and I became who I am today. A sour, grumpy, damaged man.
River “Crabby” MacAllister:Today my family is celebrating new traditions, thanks to my sisters’ husbands. My brothers are jabbing at each other playfully. My mom and Granny are laughing and having a great time. And me? I’ve become invisible. It’s an art I’ve worked on for so long, I forgot how it wasto be seen.
River “Crabby” MacAllister:But you do. You seemeDr. Martínez and I don’t know what to do with that.
