I move my hand down to cup her thigh and bring her leg up onto my top one. It opens her enough that I can guide myself into her from behind. It’s all I can do not to groan loudly when I slip into her tight sheath. I inhale deeply so as not to make any noise. She tips her h*ps back toward me, giving me an even deeper penetration. I don’t know if it’s intentional or instinctive. I still can’t be sure if she’s awake or not.
Working my fingers back to her moist center, I rub her toward orgasm as I move slowly in and out of her wet heat. When I feel her muscles begin to clench around me, her hand comes up to my hip, gripping me, pulling me tighter against her.
She’s awake.
I hear her breathing pick up and then she gasps. I feel the spasms of her orgasm and hear her panting softly. I hold her firm and steady as I drive into her, harder and harder.
And then an explosion of sensation and I’m coming inside her. Before I even realize it, my teeth are biting into her shoulder. It seems to stir her. She brings her hand up and fists her fingers in my hair, pulling it a little, making me jerk inside her.
Damn, I can’t wait to see what she’s like when she lets go.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN - Olivia
I can’t stop smiling. Again. Even though doubt niggles at the back of my mind, it’s impossible to think entirely bad thoughts when I’m lying on Cash’s chest, tracing his tattoo.
“What does this mean?” I whisper.
“It’s the Chinese symbol for awesome,” he teases lightly.
I giggle. “If it’s not, which I imagine it isn’t, then it should be.”
“Are you paying me a compliment? I just want to be sure, so I don’t miss it.”
I slap his ribs. “You make it sound like I’m mean and horrible because I don’t throw myself at your feet.”
“You don’t have to throw yourself at my feet. Although if you want to, I’m sure I can think of something for you to do while you’re down there.”
I look up at him and he’s waggling his eyebrows again.
“I’m sure you could.” Shaking my head, I settle back onto his chest and resume tracing the ink shapes. “Seriously, what do they mean?”
Cash is quiet for so long I begin to think he’s not going to answer me. But then he finally speaks.
“It’s a collage of things that remind me of my family.”
I look at each image, not really being able to see any discernible images. I trace the things that look like dark fingers. “And these?”
“They symbolize the fire that took them from me.”
I lean up onto my elbow and look down into his face.
“What do you mean?”
He looks disconcerted for a second before he answers. “Well, my mother was killed in a boating explosion that was intended for my entire family. My father is in prison for her murder. My brother and I are very...separated. In all the ways that matter, that fire took my family. My home. Now, it’s just me.”
I think back to Nash telling me about his father being in prison for murder. We never got to talk more about it, so I didn’t know his mother was dead and his father was to blame.
I want to know more, of course. I have a thousand questions, but I don’t want to push.
“Do you…feel like talking about it?”
His smile is polite and sad. “Not really. If you don’t mind. I hate to ruin a day that has started out this perfectly.” His grin widens when he reaches down to cup my butt. I feel him getting hard against my belly where I’m half lying on him.
I grin, too. “Well, you’re just gonna have to cool your jets. My dad will be up soon and I may not have mentioned that he’s a crack shot with a pistol.”
“In that case, how about breakfast instead?”
I giggle. “Wise choice, braveheart.”
“Don’t tease. How much good would I be to you if I let your dad blow my dick off?”
I say nothing, only smile. But inside, I feel my heart plummet. Already I’m thinking that there’s so much more to Cash than the fact that he’s great between the sheets. He’s charming and witty, he’s considerate and passionate. He’s smart and resourceful. He’s all sorts of wonderful things that have nothing to do with his prowess in the bedroom.
And in a public bathroom. And against the shower wall.
Those thoughts have me feeling lighthearted again in no time.
After Cash sneaks back to his bedroom, I head for the shower. Again. I need to actually bathe this time.
I smile the entire time. There’s not a place on my body that doesn’t seem to be marked with Cash as I rub over it with the soap. And it’s a decidedly nice feeling. For the moment anyway.
The reality of my situation threatens to intrude once more. And once more, I brush it back. Ruthlessly. Relentlessly. I’ll deal with it on Monday. But I’m taking this weekend and calling a time out. Time out from wisdom and responsibility and all the voices in my head. This weekend is only about Cash and me and all the mad attraction between us.
After dressing in cut-off jean shorts and a Boys Over Books t-shirt, I head downstairs. I’m a little surprised by what I find.
My father is sitting at the kitchen table. His casted leg is propped up on a stool, his crutches are against the wall behind him, and there’s a day’s growth of stubble in place. The most surprising thing, however, is that he’s chatting up a storm with Cash, who appears to be making breakfast.
A thousand different feelings bubble in my chest as I watch the scene. Not one of them is welcome. Each of them means trouble for me. And for my heart.
If only you were more like Nash, I think as I watch Cash add spices to beaten eggs as my father directs him.
“Good morning,” I say brightly, trying to hide the sinking feeling that’s dragging my heart into a pit of despair.
They both turn to greet me with light and happy smiles. Cash winks at me from in front of the stove and pure lust twitches in my lower belly. There’s no denying this man is hot. Effing hot. Probably hotter than the stove he’s cooking on.
I jump in to help and let myself fall into a morning that is nothing short of surreal and Rockwellian in its charm and appeal. As I sit scarfing down eggs, bacon, pancakes and coffee, I know that every other morning for the rest of my life will be measured against this one. And probably come up wanting. By an enormous margin.
Dammit.
After cleaning up the breakfast dishes, Cash helps get Dad settled back into his chair and we head for the barn. On the way, Cash peppers me with questions about raising sheep and what all it entails. I try to answer them as quickly and as succinctly as I can, although it’s hard to cram a lifetime of knowledge and experience into a few short minutes.
“So what is it we’re doing today then?”
“We are going out to look for the new lambs. The ewes separate themselves and have their babies out in the woods or field. We need to make sure the lambs are healthy, though, and not having any problems that we need to treat. I’ll record them and which ewe they belong to. That way, too, we know roughly how long to wait to bring them in to tag them, dock the female tails and band the male testicles.”
“Dock their tails? Band their testicles? Why?” Cash asks, looking fairly horrified at such a barbaric notion.
“We dock the female tails because it’s much easier and cleaner for the ewes when they give birth. It’s for the safety of both the mother and her offspring. Plus, it’s also a way to tell them apart from the young males.
“As for the males, we neuter them because…well, you know what they’d do if we didn’t.”
Over his shock over the procedure wears off, he grins and waggles his eyebrows. “Yeah, I do!”
Smiling at him, I throw my leg over the wide, padded seat of the four-wheeler and pat the spot behind me. “Now, it’s my turn to drive,” I inform him in my wickedest voice.
Cash cocks one eyebrow in that way that I love and very slowly slides onto the seat behind me. He scoots in close, grabbing my h*ps and pulling me snugly into the V of his legs, pressing his chest to my back. I can feel him along every inch of my posterior. He winds his arms around my waist, his hands settling perversely low on my stomach, making my insides twitch with desire.
I feel his lips against my ear when he whispers, “Ready when you are.”
With shaking fingers, I turn the key and crank the ignition. When I rev the engine, I figure there’s no way it’s running with more RPMs than my libido is at this very moment. If Cash doesn’t cool it, I’ll be sitting in a puddle within the hour.
I pull out of the barn and stop shortly after to open the first gate. One of our several herding dogs runs out to meet us. I reach down to pet his enormous white head. “Solomon! How are you boy?” I ask of the Great Pyrenees.
I bend down and he licks my cheek vigorously then moves back so I can push the gate wide and pull the four-wheeler through. Cash gets off to close the gate behind us and that becomes our routine through each gate of each field of the vast 170-acre farm of my childhood.
I drive us up and down and around the old familiar paths of my youth, pointing out along the way places and things I think Cash might find interesting. He asks several relevant and insightful questions, leaving me in no doubt that his intellectual aptitude is at least equal to Nash’s.
Smart and hot. Dammit.
Cash helps me look for ewes with new lambs. He points out several that are from the spring. Not having been around them his whole life, he can’t look at them and see the subtle differences that indicate they are older. But I see it immediately.
In the end, we find seven late season lambs. They’re a result of Rambo, one of our rams, escaping his pen again and finding his way to the ewes. Normally, Dad tries to keep all the mating in certain months so that the ewes have the lambs in spring. But occasionally, something like this happens and leaves him scrambling to account for surprise lambs.
I make note of each lamb we’ve spotted. According to my father, he was expecting to find seven to nine. What this tells me is either we’ll find a couple more tomorrow when we come out or we’ll find a couple dead somewhere.
Even after all these years, my heart squeezes at the thought. There’s nothing worse than losing lambs.
On the way back toward the front field, we see two other dogs and Pedro, the llama. Of course Cash makes a comment about each. I can’t help but laugh at his witty observations.
My lighthearted attitude toward the day concerns me, though. Despite the danger of it, I can feel myself being pulled in by Cash, to Cash. It’s like looking out on the horizon and seeing a whole new realm of feeling lying just ahead. Along with the ominous clouds of a storm. It would be all too easy for me to imagine us one day taking over the farm. Together.
And thinking like that would be a disaster.
Rather than going all the way back to the house, I drive us to the North barn. Playing with Solomon at every stop is a dirty business, because he’s filthy. Plus, riding through the tall grass flings all sorts of bugs and debris, essentially adding another layer of dirt on top of the first one.
So I head to the barn so we can clean up. It’s the closest place with running water.
I let Cash clean up first. Then, after I’ve washed my hands and arms, I wet a paper towel to wipe off with. I drag it over my sweaty neck and chest, then up my arms as well.
When I’m finished, I move to throw it in the trash and find Cash watching me. He’s leaned up against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, staring. He’s not smiling, but there’s a look on his face I’m becoming familiar with. A heat in his eyes. It’s dark and dangerous, and it has the ability to burn me up if I’m not careful.
I stop. Not on purpose, but because I feel the world shift beneath my feet when he unfolds his body and moves slowly toward me. I feel like I’ve been chosen by a lion as his mate and he’s stalking me.
Cash stops in front of me. He doesn’t say a word. He just bends and scoops me up into his arms and carries me back to the four-wheeler.
I parked it in the sun on the crest of a hill. It’s obscured by woods on three sides. The only thing in the field below is grass. No people, no eyes. Just grass. Tall, tall grass, swaying calmly in the warm breeze.
He climbs onto the four-wheeler and sets me in his lap. He looks into my eyes for several intense seconds, watching me like I’m all he sees. And he’s all I see. For this moment, it seems we are completely alone in the world, each wholly consumed by the other. Nothing else exists.
It scares me that I like it that way. Just him and me. Nobody else.
Cupping my face, Cash kisses me. It’s not an overtly ravenous kiss, but there’s something just beneath the surface that scorches my insides. It’s as though he’s trying to absorb something from my soul, like he’s taking more than just the physical.
With practiced hands, he unbuttons my shorts and rubs his palm across my na**d belly. Chills spread down my legs and heat pools in my core. A volcano of hot lava seems always to be boiling just under my skin whenever Cash is around.
Winding an arm around me, Cash lifts me and pushes my shorts and my panties down my legs then tucks them behind the seat. Still, he hasn’t spoken. And still, there is that implied danger in being with him, in letting him take me where he wants to go.
But I go. I have to. I’m helpless against it. At least for today. Maybe not tomorrow. But today, I go.
Never taking his eyes off mine, Cash scoots back a little and unzips his pants. I can’t help but look down and revel in the absolute perfection of him.
With confident fingers, I reach out and grip his thick shaft, stroking the hard satin length. When I hear him groan, I see one glistening drop of liquid appear on the head. Sliding back on the seat, I bend forward and touch my tongue to the tip, licking the drop. Then licking him again.
Working my fingers back to her moist center, I rub her toward orgasm as I move slowly in and out of her wet heat. When I feel her muscles begin to clench around me, her hand comes up to my hip, gripping me, pulling me tighter against her.
She’s awake.
I hear her breathing pick up and then she gasps. I feel the spasms of her orgasm and hear her panting softly. I hold her firm and steady as I drive into her, harder and harder.
And then an explosion of sensation and I’m coming inside her. Before I even realize it, my teeth are biting into her shoulder. It seems to stir her. She brings her hand up and fists her fingers in my hair, pulling it a little, making me jerk inside her.
Damn, I can’t wait to see what she’s like when she lets go.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN - Olivia
I can’t stop smiling. Again. Even though doubt niggles at the back of my mind, it’s impossible to think entirely bad thoughts when I’m lying on Cash’s chest, tracing his tattoo.
“What does this mean?” I whisper.
“It’s the Chinese symbol for awesome,” he teases lightly.
I giggle. “If it’s not, which I imagine it isn’t, then it should be.”
“Are you paying me a compliment? I just want to be sure, so I don’t miss it.”
I slap his ribs. “You make it sound like I’m mean and horrible because I don’t throw myself at your feet.”
“You don’t have to throw yourself at my feet. Although if you want to, I’m sure I can think of something for you to do while you’re down there.”
I look up at him and he’s waggling his eyebrows again.
“I’m sure you could.” Shaking my head, I settle back onto his chest and resume tracing the ink shapes. “Seriously, what do they mean?”
Cash is quiet for so long I begin to think he’s not going to answer me. But then he finally speaks.
“It’s a collage of things that remind me of my family.”
I look at each image, not really being able to see any discernible images. I trace the things that look like dark fingers. “And these?”
“They symbolize the fire that took them from me.”
I lean up onto my elbow and look down into his face.
“What do you mean?”
He looks disconcerted for a second before he answers. “Well, my mother was killed in a boating explosion that was intended for my entire family. My father is in prison for her murder. My brother and I are very...separated. In all the ways that matter, that fire took my family. My home. Now, it’s just me.”
I think back to Nash telling me about his father being in prison for murder. We never got to talk more about it, so I didn’t know his mother was dead and his father was to blame.
I want to know more, of course. I have a thousand questions, but I don’t want to push.
“Do you…feel like talking about it?”
His smile is polite and sad. “Not really. If you don’t mind. I hate to ruin a day that has started out this perfectly.” His grin widens when he reaches down to cup my butt. I feel him getting hard against my belly where I’m half lying on him.
I grin, too. “Well, you’re just gonna have to cool your jets. My dad will be up soon and I may not have mentioned that he’s a crack shot with a pistol.”
“In that case, how about breakfast instead?”
I giggle. “Wise choice, braveheart.”
“Don’t tease. How much good would I be to you if I let your dad blow my dick off?”
I say nothing, only smile. But inside, I feel my heart plummet. Already I’m thinking that there’s so much more to Cash than the fact that he’s great between the sheets. He’s charming and witty, he’s considerate and passionate. He’s smart and resourceful. He’s all sorts of wonderful things that have nothing to do with his prowess in the bedroom.
And in a public bathroom. And against the shower wall.
Those thoughts have me feeling lighthearted again in no time.
After Cash sneaks back to his bedroom, I head for the shower. Again. I need to actually bathe this time.
I smile the entire time. There’s not a place on my body that doesn’t seem to be marked with Cash as I rub over it with the soap. And it’s a decidedly nice feeling. For the moment anyway.
The reality of my situation threatens to intrude once more. And once more, I brush it back. Ruthlessly. Relentlessly. I’ll deal with it on Monday. But I’m taking this weekend and calling a time out. Time out from wisdom and responsibility and all the voices in my head. This weekend is only about Cash and me and all the mad attraction between us.
After dressing in cut-off jean shorts and a Boys Over Books t-shirt, I head downstairs. I’m a little surprised by what I find.
My father is sitting at the kitchen table. His casted leg is propped up on a stool, his crutches are against the wall behind him, and there’s a day’s growth of stubble in place. The most surprising thing, however, is that he’s chatting up a storm with Cash, who appears to be making breakfast.
A thousand different feelings bubble in my chest as I watch the scene. Not one of them is welcome. Each of them means trouble for me. And for my heart.
If only you were more like Nash, I think as I watch Cash add spices to beaten eggs as my father directs him.
“Good morning,” I say brightly, trying to hide the sinking feeling that’s dragging my heart into a pit of despair.
They both turn to greet me with light and happy smiles. Cash winks at me from in front of the stove and pure lust twitches in my lower belly. There’s no denying this man is hot. Effing hot. Probably hotter than the stove he’s cooking on.
I jump in to help and let myself fall into a morning that is nothing short of surreal and Rockwellian in its charm and appeal. As I sit scarfing down eggs, bacon, pancakes and coffee, I know that every other morning for the rest of my life will be measured against this one. And probably come up wanting. By an enormous margin.
Dammit.
After cleaning up the breakfast dishes, Cash helps get Dad settled back into his chair and we head for the barn. On the way, Cash peppers me with questions about raising sheep and what all it entails. I try to answer them as quickly and as succinctly as I can, although it’s hard to cram a lifetime of knowledge and experience into a few short minutes.
“So what is it we’re doing today then?”
“We are going out to look for the new lambs. The ewes separate themselves and have their babies out in the woods or field. We need to make sure the lambs are healthy, though, and not having any problems that we need to treat. I’ll record them and which ewe they belong to. That way, too, we know roughly how long to wait to bring them in to tag them, dock the female tails and band the male testicles.”
“Dock their tails? Band their testicles? Why?” Cash asks, looking fairly horrified at such a barbaric notion.
“We dock the female tails because it’s much easier and cleaner for the ewes when they give birth. It’s for the safety of both the mother and her offspring. Plus, it’s also a way to tell them apart from the young males.
“As for the males, we neuter them because…well, you know what they’d do if we didn’t.”
Over his shock over the procedure wears off, he grins and waggles his eyebrows. “Yeah, I do!”
Smiling at him, I throw my leg over the wide, padded seat of the four-wheeler and pat the spot behind me. “Now, it’s my turn to drive,” I inform him in my wickedest voice.
Cash cocks one eyebrow in that way that I love and very slowly slides onto the seat behind me. He scoots in close, grabbing my h*ps and pulling me snugly into the V of his legs, pressing his chest to my back. I can feel him along every inch of my posterior. He winds his arms around my waist, his hands settling perversely low on my stomach, making my insides twitch with desire.
I feel his lips against my ear when he whispers, “Ready when you are.”
With shaking fingers, I turn the key and crank the ignition. When I rev the engine, I figure there’s no way it’s running with more RPMs than my libido is at this very moment. If Cash doesn’t cool it, I’ll be sitting in a puddle within the hour.
I pull out of the barn and stop shortly after to open the first gate. One of our several herding dogs runs out to meet us. I reach down to pet his enormous white head. “Solomon! How are you boy?” I ask of the Great Pyrenees.
I bend down and he licks my cheek vigorously then moves back so I can push the gate wide and pull the four-wheeler through. Cash gets off to close the gate behind us and that becomes our routine through each gate of each field of the vast 170-acre farm of my childhood.
I drive us up and down and around the old familiar paths of my youth, pointing out along the way places and things I think Cash might find interesting. He asks several relevant and insightful questions, leaving me in no doubt that his intellectual aptitude is at least equal to Nash’s.
Smart and hot. Dammit.
Cash helps me look for ewes with new lambs. He points out several that are from the spring. Not having been around them his whole life, he can’t look at them and see the subtle differences that indicate they are older. But I see it immediately.
In the end, we find seven late season lambs. They’re a result of Rambo, one of our rams, escaping his pen again and finding his way to the ewes. Normally, Dad tries to keep all the mating in certain months so that the ewes have the lambs in spring. But occasionally, something like this happens and leaves him scrambling to account for surprise lambs.
I make note of each lamb we’ve spotted. According to my father, he was expecting to find seven to nine. What this tells me is either we’ll find a couple more tomorrow when we come out or we’ll find a couple dead somewhere.
Even after all these years, my heart squeezes at the thought. There’s nothing worse than losing lambs.
On the way back toward the front field, we see two other dogs and Pedro, the llama. Of course Cash makes a comment about each. I can’t help but laugh at his witty observations.
My lighthearted attitude toward the day concerns me, though. Despite the danger of it, I can feel myself being pulled in by Cash, to Cash. It’s like looking out on the horizon and seeing a whole new realm of feeling lying just ahead. Along with the ominous clouds of a storm. It would be all too easy for me to imagine us one day taking over the farm. Together.
And thinking like that would be a disaster.
Rather than going all the way back to the house, I drive us to the North barn. Playing with Solomon at every stop is a dirty business, because he’s filthy. Plus, riding through the tall grass flings all sorts of bugs and debris, essentially adding another layer of dirt on top of the first one.
So I head to the barn so we can clean up. It’s the closest place with running water.
I let Cash clean up first. Then, after I’ve washed my hands and arms, I wet a paper towel to wipe off with. I drag it over my sweaty neck and chest, then up my arms as well.
When I’m finished, I move to throw it in the trash and find Cash watching me. He’s leaned up against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, staring. He’s not smiling, but there’s a look on his face I’m becoming familiar with. A heat in his eyes. It’s dark and dangerous, and it has the ability to burn me up if I’m not careful.
I stop. Not on purpose, but because I feel the world shift beneath my feet when he unfolds his body and moves slowly toward me. I feel like I’ve been chosen by a lion as his mate and he’s stalking me.
Cash stops in front of me. He doesn’t say a word. He just bends and scoops me up into his arms and carries me back to the four-wheeler.
I parked it in the sun on the crest of a hill. It’s obscured by woods on three sides. The only thing in the field below is grass. No people, no eyes. Just grass. Tall, tall grass, swaying calmly in the warm breeze.
He climbs onto the four-wheeler and sets me in his lap. He looks into my eyes for several intense seconds, watching me like I’m all he sees. And he’s all I see. For this moment, it seems we are completely alone in the world, each wholly consumed by the other. Nothing else exists.
It scares me that I like it that way. Just him and me. Nobody else.
Cupping my face, Cash kisses me. It’s not an overtly ravenous kiss, but there’s something just beneath the surface that scorches my insides. It’s as though he’s trying to absorb something from my soul, like he’s taking more than just the physical.
With practiced hands, he unbuttons my shorts and rubs his palm across my na**d belly. Chills spread down my legs and heat pools in my core. A volcano of hot lava seems always to be boiling just under my skin whenever Cash is around.
Winding an arm around me, Cash lifts me and pushes my shorts and my panties down my legs then tucks them behind the seat. Still, he hasn’t spoken. And still, there is that implied danger in being with him, in letting him take me where he wants to go.
But I go. I have to. I’m helpless against it. At least for today. Maybe not tomorrow. But today, I go.
Never taking his eyes off mine, Cash scoots back a little and unzips his pants. I can’t help but look down and revel in the absolute perfection of him.
With confident fingers, I reach out and grip his thick shaft, stroking the hard satin length. When I hear him groan, I see one glistening drop of liquid appear on the head. Sliding back on the seat, I bend forward and touch my tongue to the tip, licking the drop. Then licking him again.
