Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 97369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
I giggle when he teases me with his teeth. My shoulders lift, and a shiver works its way along my skin.
“Tomorrow, you should tell Fletcher you want to tour Rice University.” He slides off Ranger just outside of the barn and helps me down.
I follow him to the stall, resting my chin and hands on the smooth rail. “I’m not going to Rice. Nowhere in Texas.”
He removes the saddle. “Indie, I don’t give a shit where you want to go to college. I have some business to take care of in Houston on Monday. And if you tell Fletcher you want to tour Rice, he’ll make me take you with me.” He turns.
My lips roll together. I’m trying to play it cool, but it’s hard. Milo wants to spend the day with me.
When the gate latches, I step into his space, wrapping my arms around him.
“Get to bed, Indie girl.”
I grumble into his chest, and he chuckles.
“Fuck if I know,” a deep voice sounds from somewhere close.
Milo pulls me around the corner to an empty stall filled with hay bales on one side and horse blankets draped on the other side. It’s not well-lit, cloaking us in the shadows while several workers use the spigot just outside the barn.
I peek between two of the blankets hanging over the stall’s rails. The men take their time rinsing buckets, shrugging off their dirty shirts, and drinking from the hose.
Milo’s arm snakes around my waist, his warm chest pressed to my back and his face tucked into the crook of my neck. He sucks the sensitive skin below my ear.
I release a tiny hum.
“Shh …” he whispers.
Biting my lips, I angle my head, giving him better access.
His kisses grow demanding as they did in the pasture. My fingers grip the railing over the blankets.
One of Milo’s hands splays along my stomach, pulling me closer to him. That’s when I feel him—his erection, through his jeans, pressed to my backside. My breaths quicken, making it hard to keep quiet. Milo’s other hand skates up my body, over my breast to my neck. He cups my jaw, angles my head back to him, and kisses me hard.
Hard like his body flush with mine.
Hard like his erection.
Hard like his pelvis rocking against me.
This is so fucking unfair. Now he does this? When we’re feet away from workers? When we’re fully clothed? When we can’t make a sound?
I’m angry and frustrated, but it doesn’t mean I don’t want it just the same. My tongue flicks against his while I arch my back. Milo releases my jaw, his head dropping back to my neck, sucking and biting his way to my shoulder while both hands grip my hips.
I lift onto my toes, and his fingers dig into my hips as he grinds his erection along my ass, his hips jerking hard and slow.
The men cackle with laughter while lighting cigarettes, seemingly in no hurry to leave their circle around the spigot.
Milo hugs me tightly, one hand sliding up my shirt and beneath my bra while his other hand keeps my hips from moving away from his.
I suck in a harsh breath when his calloused thumb strokes my nipple before his hand squeezes my breast.
“Shh …” he whispers in my ear again.
His adept fingers flick open the button and pull down the zipper of my jeans. Then he steals my right hand from the railing and guides it down the front of my underwear.
“Touch yourself,” he breathes heavily against my cheek, gripping both of my hips and increasing his pace, each thrust a little faster … a little harder, just like his labored breaths at my neck.
My fingers slide through the warm wet space between my legs, over my sensitive clit. And I close my eyes, imagining his erection sliding between my legs, dipping lower, pressing inside me. I lose it; my knees weaken with my orgasm. My head drops to my arm anchored to the bar with a death grip.
Milo bites my shoulder, muffling his low groan while he holds me painfully tight and circles his hips before stilling, body rigid for several seconds. Then he slowly releases a long breath while his muscles relax along with his grip on my hips.
I turn in his arms, but it’s too dark to see his eyes. His hands frame my face, and he takes me under again in a passionate kiss. It’s easy to dismiss the sexual release as something animalistic, the human need to fuck, to feel that release. But this … this kiss is not physical. It’s emotional. It’s everything I know he can’t say with words. It’s a promise he can’t keep. A life we can’t have.
My fingers clench his shirt, my weight on the balls of my feet. The men’s voices outside of the barn fade in the distance. And Milo slowly pulls away. His thumb caresses my lips, and he softly kisses them again. I swallow the words I want to say, the case I want to make for the unfairness of life. He said I could have him.