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Sally stays put in my lap, and my hands dig into the delicious curve of her hips.

The image slams into me like a freight train—Sally’s on my lap, facing away from me, like she is now. We’re still sitting. Only she’s naked, and she’s playing with her tits as I guide her body up and down, up and down, her pussy’s grip on me unbearably hot and tight as she rides my dick in a reverse cowgirl position.

The image is so vivid that I can see the way the muscles in her back bunch and release with every curl of her hips. Her hair is long and loose over her shoulders. Her tits bounce in her hands as she moves. I reach around and stroke her clit with my thumb, a slow, steady rhythm that has her gasping for air, her pussy tightening around me to an almost-painful degree.

“I should probably follow him though, don’t you think? I feel like I’m missing an opportunity?—”

“No.” I say the word with so much force that it surprises us both. My mask has slipped yet again without me even knowing it. Good thing the barn is emptying out.

The confusion on Sally’s face deepens. “Wyatt, he’s about to leave.”

I’m hit by an acute need for nicotine. Or sex with Sally.

Christ, I don’t know what I need. All I know is, this girl ain’t going anywhere with another man right now.

“Wyatt,” she says, “are you okay?”

My thoughts whirl—tell her he’ll come back, say she’s just upping the stakes, ask her to marry you—but I can’t make myself say the words.

Thank God my brothers are busy wondering what crawled up Beck’s ass and died, so they don’t witness my silent meltdown.

See? This is what happens when I let my guard down.

“Are you okay?” Sally’s face is close to mine. Too close.

Not nearly close enough. I swear this girl is gonna kill me.

Pretending to not want her for another minute is gonna fuckingkillme.

“Fine.” Firming my grip on her hips, I slide her onto the seat of Beck’s empty chair. “Go.”

“Wyatt—”

“I’m sorry.” I’m shaking as I shove up to standing and hook a finger into the knot of my tie, giving it a vicious tug. I can’t breathe. “I’m—I know I’m being weird. I just—I can’t. I can’t, Sal. I’m sorry.”

Then I turn and stalk out of the barn like it’s on fire.

I’m on fire, and I’m so damn tempted to let the flames take over.

To let them take me out.

CHAPTER 11

Sally

CHANGE MY MIND

I stareat the broad expanse of Wyatt’s retreating back, my chest twisting.

What the fuck just happened?

I think—I mean, I have to be imagining it, but I think I saw hurt in his eyes. Hurt and something that looked shockingly like longing.

My stomach takes a violent nosedive. None of this makes sense. We were having so much fun playing poker. Too much fun maybe? Is that why Wyatt refused to let me go with Beck?

Or did Wyatt feel it too—the very real pull between our bodies as he and I flirted, touched, teased? The insistent throb between my legs is evidence of just how turned on I am—was—from the way Wyatt did that thing he does so damn well: making me feel like I’m the only woman in the room.

Tonight, he made me feel like the only woman he wanted.