Page 162 of Scent to the Feral Cowboys

To imagine…

To picture…

Boone’s hands touching more than just my cheek.

I swallowed hard and forced my eyes away, reminding myself for the thousandth time that I wasn't supposed to stay here. I wasn't supposed to want any of them—not Boone with his quiet intensity, Wade with his nurturing touch, Cooper with his easy smiles, Levi with his brilliant mind, or Wyatt with his unbreakable exterior hiding fragility beneath.

Stop imagining a tomorrow here,I scolded. I was supposed to be ready to bolt the very second Eros emailed their answer. Yes or no, it didn’t matter.

My mind began to spin, caught on a carousel as a truth I’d been denying tried to dawn on me despite my best efforts to ignore it. This wasn’t something I could ignore anymore though. It was staring me in the face. The spinning contraption full of embellished horses had stopped right in front of a blinking sign.

You’re still in denial.

If you’re really hellbent on leaving, regardless of Eros’s reply, then why are you still here now? They trust you. Grab the keys. Go tonight. Never look back.

My Omega nature wanted me to be here, yes.

But if I was being completely honest, that was only a small part of it.

My stubbornness and resolve to leave had grown weaker by the day, eroded by moments like this—Boone behind me inthe saddle, pressed so close that I could feel the ridges of his abdominal muscles and the line of his manhood against my bottom.

I shifted slightly, feeling the way he pushed against my borrowed jeans. The idea that the most intimate parts of our bodies were so close made vibrating anticipation pulse down below. I tried to ignore it, but every slight movement of the horse beneath us pushed us together in new ways, creating friction that made my breath catch.

"You alright?" Boone's voice rumbled against my back, his breath pushing against my ear.

Shit, he could probably smell the lust on me, like I’d bathed in Omega pheromones.

"Fine," I managed, though my voice sounded strained even to my own ears. "Just... getting used to this."

Getting used to what?

To wanting him?

To needing him?

To constantly thinking about marking and mating his entire pack?

We rode in silence for a while, Behaichi's powerful strides carrying us across the ranch. The sun kept traveling closer to the horizon, making the world around us golden. I tried to focus on the breathtaking beauty of the landscape rather than the breathtaking, beautiful possibility seated behind me.

"I used to hate riding," Boone said suddenly, breaking the quiet between us. "When I was a kid, fell off more times than I care to admit.”

I turned my head slightly, surprised. "You did?"

He nodded, his chin brushing against my hair. “Got a lot of shit for it growing up. Riding comes second nature on the reservation. I was the black sheep.”

"I can't imagine you falling off a horse," I admitted.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t imagine it actually,” he teased, fluttering the reins and prompting Behaichi to quicken his steps.

We fell into a comfortable silence as the massive stallion carried us across the vast pasture. I leaned back against Boone. He stiffened, but only for a heartbeat before relaxing again. His own scent fogged around me, betraying his own desires.

The Wyoming landscape seemed to go on forever, the horizon never getting nearer. This was nothing like the urban confines of Seattle or Tacoma or even San Francisco where I'd spent most of my life. Here, the world had room to breathe, revealing its character within gentle slopes and patches of wildflowers interrupting emerald grass. The picturesque sky arched overhead, impossibly wide and quickly becoming painted with the telltale pinks and golds of approaching sunset.

I shivered not only at how lovely it all looked, but also at the feel of my head resting against the chest of my Alpha behind me.

"Cold?" he asked immediately.

"No," I said truthfully. “Not cold.”