Page 27 of Colt (The Bull Riders #2)

I’m happier to focus on that than I am on my current emotional state.

I wait for conversation to strike up easily between us.

It doesn’t. That’s unusual. I can’t tell if it’s me or if it’s him.

“You didn’t even have trouble sitting down,” I point out.

Mainly because I’m desperate to get something going, but I’m not sure that was the right thing to say.

He looks at his crutches. “No. I didn’t. Sometimes I don’t even think that much about it anymore.”

“Because whatever happens, you’re just going to keep… Being you. Figuring it out.”

“I guess that’s life. Isn’t it? I mean, you’ve been through some stuff, but you just keep on doing it.”

“Yeah,” I say.

I have a feeling that he’s going to go on the list of things I’ve been through.

I don’t think that drawing a boundary around this and forgetting it happened is going to be easy.

Hell, I’m tempted to say that it will even be possible.

But I can’t think that way. We jumped into this, and we need to be able to get back out of it.

For the sake of our family. For our sake.

I’ve heard the term forest bathing before, but never thought much about it. As I sit there beneath the pine trees, the sun pouring down on me, I feel like I understand it. Like there’s something healing out here. A baptism among the firs, and he’s with me for it. With me in it.

Then, he reaches across the distance and touches my face. I recognize that look on his face. Intense, longing.

“This is literally a public space.”

“There’s no one here,” he says.

I’ve never been as attracted to anyone as I am to this man. I’ve never wanted somebody so badly that I was willing to take a risk like this. He makes me want to do it.

He makes me want to forget everything, drop all my rules, drop all my worries, and embrace him.

And why not? If he’s going to be a hard learned lesson, if I’m already sleeping with my stepbrother, then I might as well take this risk.

It might as well be him and me, here under the sky, with the trees as witnesses, and all that healing sun.

It might as well be as dirty and brilliant and risky as all that.

Because maybe healing has to hurt.

God knows his is.

Maybe the kind I need to do is going to hurt too. I never really thought about it. About all the ways that I’ve been protecting myself. I thought that I had processed my mom’s death. As well as you can, anyway.

It’s not like I would’ve chosen it, but I feel a certain sort of peace.

But… Do I? Or do I just hold parts of myself back so that I’m never really hurt. Do I keep from challenging those tender places? Those parts of me that are vulnerable and raw.

He doesn’t wait for me to say yes. He kisses me. There’s a desperation to it. A deep sort of longing. As if he senses the magnitude of the moment too. Maybe he’s thinking about the end, just like I am. Or maybe he’s just thinking about this and us and the whole sky bearing witness.

I can’t say.

I’m not sure that it matters. We are experiencing this intensity together, and I find there’s something beautiful in that.

Hell, it’s been beautiful the whole time.

That we both want this. Beyond reason, madness and anything else.

I give myself over to the kiss. Open my mouth wide so he can take it deep.

His hands move over my body, effortlessly removing my dress.

I strip his shirt away, push him onto his back. I want him. I need him.

We’re always responsible. We always use condoms.

But I’m on the pill, and I feel a risky edge to this that I want to explore.

Like I want to stop shielding myself, and feel everything.

I want him inside me with nothing between us.

I have never wanted that before. In fact, I would say that I wanted the condom.

I wanted a barrier between myself and the man that I was having sex with, and if that doesn’t say something about those relationships, nothing else can.

But suddenly, I need him. I crave him. Want to be filled with him.

Is that twisted? Maybe.

I’m there. Twisted, undone. For him.

Only for him. I want to give him everything. I want to lay it all down. I want to be more vulnerable. Is that even possible? Like we only have this very limited amount of time, and I need to experience the full extent of all the feelings that can exist between us. I have to.

I’m not gentle when I tear at his belt, his jeans, until he’s free.

“It’s okay,” I say, throwing my leg over him and taking him deep inside of me.

“Hell,” he breathes, as he enters me slowly. I feel each excruciating edge of him keenly. I moan, his hot, bare skin driving me insane.

He starts to arch his hips upward, claiming me, fucking me with an intensity that shocks me. I didn’t know that he could do that from this position, especially not with his injuries, but Lord. He’s taking me to another planet.

He takes me like that, over and over again while I arch my hips and ride along with the rhythm. It’s fast, it’s furious, and he comes in a hot rush inside of me. Making me tremble, shake, cry out his name.

And as the echo of our voices fades into the trees, I realize that we’ve just taken a massive risk.

I can’t bring myself to care. To be regretful. To be embarrassed.

“That was amazing,” he says.

“I’ve never…” I collapse onto his chest for a moment, before sliding off of him. “I’ve never done that before. Without a condom.”

He shakes his head. “Me neither.”

“Really? Never?”

“No. I… Generally speaking I would rather double up than ever forget. You know how my dad is. I’ve always been clear that I was never going to litter the world with my bastards.” He’s quiet for a moment. “If you got pregnant I’d take care of you. I would take care of the baby.”

That quiet admission, the fact that he would take on that kind of responsibility just because we both lost control, makes my heart squeeze tight.

“I’m on the pill,” I say. “So, that’s not going to happen. I just… I don’t usually do that, because it seems to… Close.”

But it didn’t this time?

“No,” I say. “It felt right. It felt good.”

He touches my cheek. “I kind of like it that you thought about it.”

“You thought I did it on accident? I said it was okay.”

“Yeah. But I sure as hell wasn’t thinking. But I just kind of like that you did. That you actually just wanted me. Like that.”

And I liked it that he hadn’t thought of it all. That he lost control. We might be opposites, but we are apparently kind of mutually needy and messed up.

Good thing we have those boundaries.

Good thing.

“This is by far my favorite trip to the lake that I’ve ever had.”

I laugh, my voice echoing across the water. “Me too. But you know, we’re going to have to figure out how to act around other people.”

He nods slowly. “Yeah. You think that bar night is a great idea?”

“Yeah. Sure. I think it’s a good idea. Because that’s going to be life, isn’t it? After this is all over.”

“Yeah,” he says. “It is.”

We’ve never been awkward after sex, not even really the first time. But for some reason, this time feels a little bit awkward. I wonder if it’s just having to come down from the intensity of it. I know I personally had some big realizations in the lead up to it. I don’t know if he did.

I want to ask, but I’m not brave enough. This is so tangled up. And it hasn’t felt tangled up, not the whole time. It’s felt great. Good and fine.

But now suddenly it feels a little bit fraught.

I’ve never had a relationship before. Not a real one. I’ve never felt like I couldn’t dig or ask for what the guy was thinking or feeling. Because I’ve never worried what he might have to say. The stakes just never felt all that high.

And suddenly, with him, I feel terrified. Just really terrified. For the first time in a couple of weeks, I excuse myself to go home. I need distance. A break. My own bed.

He fires up a group text, with Dallas and Sarah, Gentry and Lily and me.

Everyone free to go to the saloon tomorrow night? I’m feeling adventurous.

There’s a round of enthusiastic agreements. I give it a thumbs up, because I’m feeling a little bit muted, even in the text conversation. Tomorrow we’re going to go out and pretend that nothing’s going on. It’s important, I know it is.

But for some reason, it mainly feels like the beginning of the end.