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God damn. I think she might kill me. I’m so turned on, I think it actually might be fatal.

I can’t see straight. I want all this. I want everything.

I want to fuck her until we can’t walk. Until neither of us can talk because we burned our voices out screaming.

I want to come down her throat, but first, I want to be inside of her again, really inside of her, so the extracurricular activities are going to have to wait.

Because I need to be with her. In her. For real.

“I need to get a condom,” I say.

She nods slowly, and I get up off the couch and go into the bedroom.

My heart is thundering hard, and I shed all my clothes completely as I fumble around in my nightstand for another condom.

Then I walk back out of the bedroom, and there she is, in the hallway.

Completely naked. During that time, she took off all her clothes, and she’s standing there against the wall, hands behind her back.

The only other time I’ve had a feeling that comes close to this is when I’m about to ride a bull .

A mean one. In a championship tournament.

When it’s going to be the ride of my life.

Heart raging, body on the edge, hands trembling.

The feeling isn’t gentle. It’s not easy.

I wouldn’t want it any other way.

I don’t want sweet, easy, romance. I want this. I want to be cut open by it, scarred by it. I feel like this is what I’m always looking for. Every night out in that arena, I’m looking for this. To feel something. Something undeniable that cuts through all the bullshit.

This is it.

I stride toward her, aware that I must look as on edge as I feel.

I reach out, grab the back of her neck and haul her toward me, my mouth crashing down on hers, the storm that reps between us a beautiful catastrophe.

I press her naked body to the wall, her small, round breasts pressing against my chest, and I growl.

I fumble with the condom, roll it onto my cock, and lift her thigh up, thrusting hard inside of her body, pinning her against the wall as I thrust into her.

She grips my shoulders, crying out, arching against me, and shuddering every time I thrust home.

“Mine,” I growl. “Mine.”

She whimpers, clinging to my shoulders as I push us both to the edge of sense, the edge of reason.

“Mine.”

Stay on for eight seconds, Dodge. No glory if you can’t finish the ride .

I grit my teeth and try to hold back. I need her to come. I put my thumb between our bodies, rubbing her sweet little clit as I continue to thrust inside of her. Deep. Hard. Please .

“Come for me.” I’m begging now. I don’t care.

She gives me what I want, beautifully. She trembles and shivers in my arms as she comes apart, biting down hard on my shoulder as she quakes.

And then I give up all control. I wrap my arm around her waist, lift her entirely off the floor as I thrust inside of her, losing myself in the rhythm, in my pleasure.

In my need. When I come, my knees buckle, and I press her against the wall, my arm planted next to the side of her head, as I try to keep myself from falling over.

“Dallas,” she whispers, pushing my hair off my forehead. I open my eyes, and meet hers. “Sarah.”

She kisses me, deep and fierce. And then I suddenly hear a roar come from the other room.

Dragons . That movie is still on.

I laugh. “Well. I finally figured out how to distract you from hobbits.”

“An orgasm will do that,” she says.

“Christ,” I say, scrubbing my hand over my face.

She laughs. “I’m not quite God, Dallas. But I’m close.” Then she poked me in the ribs, which she keeps doing, and I grab her arm and pull her up against me.

“You need to be punished,” I say. I’m teasing her, but I’m starting to get turned on again.

“I wouldn’t say no,” she says.

I lean in and bite her lip. “Really?”

Her cheeks turned bright red. “You do have a lot of experience, don’t you?”

There is actual insecurity in that, and she’s throwing some barbs at me, maybe to put some distance between us. I get it. I was lost in the moment there for a second, but the reality of the whole situation isn’t… Not scary.

“I told you. I do. I’m not ashamed of it. I’ve never cheated on anybody. I’ve never had a relationship. I’ve never tried to, not really.”

“Because you don’t want one?” she asks .

“No. I do. Someday. Look at my family. They’re great.” I let out a sigh. “Are we just going to stand here talking about this while I still have a condom on my dick?”

She looks down, her cheeks turning an even brighter pink.

“I don’t know. You’re the one standing there.”

“Sarah,” I say. “Behave yourself. I walk past her, and go into the bathroom, discarding the condom before coming back out. She’s standing in the bedroom doorway.

“Get in bed,” I say.

She lifts her chin, looks at me mulishly. “I’m not tired.”

“You’re such a brat.”

So I walk over to her, then down, pressing my shoulder against her rib cage as I lift her up off the ground, draped over my shoulder.

“Hey!”

Then I flip her over onto her back, depositing her firmly at the center of the mattress. “If you want to fight with me, get it out. Let’s do it then. If you want to put distance between us, go right the fuck ahead. Scratch me, little cat. See what you get back.”

She frowns, and I swear, if she were a cat, her claws would be out. “I’m not picking a fight.”

“You are. I know you. You’re pushing at me, because… this scares you.”

“I’m not scared.” She’s scowling at me ferociously. “I fucked you twice.”

“No. I don’t think you’re scared of my penis. I think you’re scared of everything else.” I sigh heavily, coming down next to her on the mattress. “I’m not not scared of it. I don’t know how to do this, Sarah. I figured I would meet somebody, maybe in ten years. Think about settling down. ”

She looks offended. “So there’s some mythical woman out there who’s good enough for you?”

“I have a mythical idea in my head about a family. Something that’s like what my dad has. Yeah. That’s true. I’ve always thought that I would… No. Not always. Since I was eighteen or so. I figured I would do the family thing. Wife and kids and all of that. But you know, someday. When I feel ready.”

“I’m twenty-one,” she points out, like I didn’t just give her a party in a saloon.

“I know,” I say. “And you need to go to school. You need to figure yourself out.”

“Yeah,” she agrees. “I do.”

“This is a mess,” I say. “You came to me because you were in distress, and that’s not a great start to anything. How long have you been in fight or flight?” I ask, reaching out and wrapping a tendril of hair around my finger.

“Every day for as long as I can remember,” she whispers.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” I say. “I promise. This doesn’t change what we are.”

“What are we?” she asks, her dark eyes searching mine for assurance I don’t know I can give her.

“Just the most important people in each other’s lives. Just…”

I want to say everything. But I also don’t quite know where to push and where not to.

I don’t want to scare her away. I also don’t want to make a mistake and promise something that I can’t deliver.

Because thinking about a wife, kids, family, in some theoretical future way off in the distance doesn’t feel scary.

Because the woman isn’t real, the kids aren’t real.

Right now I’m actually staring at the one woman I think I would want to marry, knowing how badly she’s been her, knowing how high the stakes are for me to be the best husband to her…

That makes it feel like a totally different thing.

It makes it feel like something I might not have the wherewithal to accomplish.

Not because I don’t want to, but because…

I return to that fight we had in the alley behind the saloon. Because I don’t know what to do with my feelings. Especially when they’re big.

They’re really big right now.

I want to make all kinds of promises. But I know that promises that end up broken or worse than promises that are made at all. And maybe I need to do something I’m not good at. Which is just sitting in a feeling instead of trying to immediately turn it into an action item.

She reaches out and grabs my hand, draws it toward her mouth and bites my finger. Then looks up at me with ridiculously innocent eyes.

“You still bite,” I say.

“Only really special people.”

“God damn, girl.”

“Affectionately?” she asks, eyes round.

“Fucking affectionately,” I say, drawing her up against my chest. The weight of her feels right in my arms, her body soft and glorious against mine. Maybe I don’t need to know the future. Maybe I just need to know right now.

“Dallas,” she whispers. “Do you remember when we were kids and you held me in bed at night?”

I smile. “I do.”

“It’s the only time I ever felt safe.”

My chest feels tight. Overwhelmed by the weight of that emotion. “Sarah, it’s the only time I felt safe,” I whisper, the reality of that hitting me hard .

She touches my face. “Well, you’re safe now, too.”

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. And I feel something change inside of me. I don’t know what it is. I don’t know if it’s healing or breaking. It hurts.

Love hurts , I think. Even as I fall asleep.