Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 24659 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 99(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24659 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 99(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
But I already know the truth.
Colt wants me.
And sooner or later, he’s going to break. And I can’t wait to see what happens when he does.
4
COLT
I’ve been tossing and turning all night. I’m on fire, despite having the window open and the fan on high and blowing right on my naked body. My sheets are soaked with sweat, my fists clenched tightly like I’m ready to fight some prick at the bar, and I’ve jerked off twice already, just trying to get these filthy thoughts of Lena out of my head.
And it’s not working.
She’s crawled her way under my skin. Burrowed deep like a tick. I don’t think I could get her out of there if I blasted with dynamite.
Every goddamn time I close my eyes, I see her. Bent over while she uses the pitchfork, those tiny jean shorts riding up and showing the sweet curve where her ass meets her thigh. Her tits ready to burst free of her sweaty tank top, and those plump lips on her smart mouth muttering about me under her breath.
She acts like she’s got something to prove. I don’t know what, but she’s sure as hell proving something–and that’s the fact that I’m absolutely starving for a taste of her.
I thought giving her the sick cow to deal with and all the work in the barn would break her–get her begging me to send her home to Daddy–but I’ll be damned if she hasn’t just grinded right through it like an experienced farmhand. She’s still swinging that pitchfork like she wants me to notice, and the worst part of all?
I like it. I actually love watching her work, despite the fact that I know it’s dangerous as hell. Her sweaty tank top clinging to her curves, the sun glistening off her smooth skin. Even her bratty mouth is a turn-on.
In fact, it’s driving me insane.
With a heavy sigh, I climb out of bed, throw on some jeans, and stalk out of the house like I’ve got the devil on my back whispering sinful suggestions into my ear.
The stars are blazing overhead as I walk, and the night air is warm and thick, alive with the buzzing of crickets and the scent of hay and damp earth. This obsession with Lena–maybe I can walk it off. I doubt it, but what’s the alternative? Lie awake in bed and jerk my hard-on again?
Images of her flood my mind as I make my way down the trail to the creek. It’s instinctual, I guess. I always take a walk here when I’m wound up inside–when life starts to strangle me and I feel like I can’t breathe. I’ve walked this trail so many times now I could do it with my eyes closed. My arms automatically brush branches aside as the sound of rushing water pulls me forward.
And then I hear a splash.
I freeze.
Another splash, followed by low, feminine giggles.
“What the hell…?”
I crouch low and creep forward, staying behind the cover of the trees and bushes. The creek widens here into a deep pool where I often come to swim. The moon is low tonight, casting silver ripples over the water. And that’s when I see her.
Lena. Skinny dipping.
She’s floating on her back like some kind of majestic water nymph, her hair fanned out around her like a halo, her gorgeous body lit by the magical moonlight.
My mouth goes dry, and my dick goes instantly hard.
Turn around, I tell myself. Walk away. She’s the boss’s daughter.
But I don’t.
I can’t.
Lena is so goddamn beautiful it almost hurts to look. Her perfect tits bob just beneath the surface of the glistening water, soft pink nipples poking up like gumdrops just begging for my mouth. Her long legs are slightly parted as she floats there, one knee bending just enough to send my imagination into overdrive.
She thinks she’s alone out here.
She thinks she’s free. Wild and untamed.
And like a punch to the chest, I realize that I don’t want her to be free. I want to own her. I want her chained to me with something thicker than blood and hotter than fire and deeper than the core of the Earth. I want to be the only man who ever sees her like this. No, I have to be.
A twig cracks beneath my foot. Lena gasps, twisting in the water.
And then she sees me.
I brace myself for her scream. The panic. But instead, she simply smiles. A naughty little smirk like she knows she’s just caught me looking. And just like that, I’m fucking gone.
“Spying on me, cowboy?” she calls out, her sensual voice echoing mischievously off the trees.
Lord help me.
She paddles slowly to the shallow edge of the creek and pulls herself onto a rock, water streaming down the slick curves of her body like liquid temptation. She doesn’t even cover herself or shrink back. Her breasts hang with perfection, plump and perky, gleaming and slippery.