Page 67 of Mustang Valley

I keep my hand on her throat and drive into her one last time and spill into her, trying not to grunt like an animal, trying not to fucking scream from the uncontrollable desire to have her forever, be inside her always… and never leave this glorious space between her legs.

I drop onto her, panting. Her chest is balmy. I kiss her neck and the taste of salty sex that’s there as much as anywhere else on her body. The taste of her skin makes me want to start all over. It makes me want to run the two of us in circles. With no beginning… and no end.

ChapterTwenty-Four

MOLLY

Dashand I catch our breath, but sleep isn’t in the cards. We stroke each other silently, until his dick goes thick again, and before I know it, he’s drawing himself in and out of me, plunging in to the depths of me, teasing my entrance with his thick crown, filling my insides with deep, soul-wrenching pleasure.

After my two more blinding orgasms, I’m a lot more sober than I was when I opened his door naked. I think Sam must have snuck something more than whiskey in those Irish coffees, because when Dash held my hand at the stables, when he stepped away from me into his bedroom… something daring surged through me. Something more than alcohol.

And my liquid courage coupled with the threat of missed opportunity had me dropping my drawers just outside his room thinking… you only live once.

Now, lying in his arms, feeling more sober, logic tells me it was careless. It was. Nothing has changed about that. But my soul doesn’t have that concern. Dash envelops my heart with his tender, firm embrace and puts me into complete peace. I should be worried about tomorrow. But I’m not. I should be anxious about what this means. But I’m not.

Because one thing I’ve learned about this man is he doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to. No is firmly in his vocabulary. He wanted me just as much as I wanted him, and the swollen feeling between my legs proves it.

Dash runs his fingernails along the arm I have wrapped around his chest. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I’m okay.”

“You’re going to sleep with me tonight.” His voice is heavy with exhaustion.

“Are you telling me or asking me?”

A beat. “I guess both.”

“You want me here?” My heart flutters.

His fingers glide more and more slowly along my skin, and I know he’s drifting off.

“Mm-hm,” he murmurs.

I kiss his neck and nest my head into the coziest pillow I’ve ever had. Somehow, the two very different shapes of us fit together perfectly. I know I’m irrationally attached. But his firm hold never changes, even when I feel his breathing slow under my chin and I listen to his heartbeat thrum so slowly, I know he’s in a deep sleep. Still, somehow, his muscles envelop me with the same flex, the same steely embrace as when he was wide awake.

He’s attached, too. I’m just not sure it’s the same way that I am.

* * *

I startle awake in the middle of the night. Dash’s body is jolting, flinching. His eyebrows flicker up and down and pinch together. His head swipes side to side. On the inside of his eyelids is some sort of dramatic dream. He’s distressed. His lips part, and he lets out a soft, almost inaudible groan. Should I wake him?

His hands shake, then jerk, more and more violently. I don’t know what to do, but when another desperate murmur leaves his lips, I rip him out of this… I don’t think this is a dream, it’s a nightmare.

“Dash…” I rock his shoulder gently. “Babe…”

He sits up so fast, it knocks me to the side. Dash’s alert, vigilant eyes dart around the room. He’s panting. But when his gaze locks on mine, he releases a breath, his body relaxing along with the exhale. He presses his fingers into his eye sockets and rubs them.

“Are you okay?”

He doesn’t seem okay, but it was only a dream, and now he knows it.

“Sorry…” He lets his head sink into the pillow again. “I woke you.”

I stroke waves off his sticky, balmy forehead and kiss it. “You want to tell me about it?”

He shakes his head. But then sinks deep into his pillow, and after a beat, speaks, matter of fact, like this isn’t the first time he’s had this dream and almost as if he’s accepted it will always be there.

“It’s me, riding a horse away from something… I don’t know what it is but I know in the dream it’s something so important my heart races and I’m…” He concentrates on some image in his mind he can still see. “And I’m needing to get away… there’s… urgency. And I’m galloping like fucking crazy when…” He stares into space, shaking his head. “I just run out of ground. The horse’s hooves stop pounding, and we start to fall, and then…” He runs his fingers through his hair. “I wake up.”

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