I continue my riding lessons.

And Xavier continues not touching me at night.

Well, of course, he’s Xavier, so a day doesn’t pass without him having his hands all over me.

But no intimate touches.

No more orgasms.

It’s because of the period. It’s got to be. He has some weird hang up about it. And I’m too chicken shit to ask him to explain. And anyway, I’m happy about the new order of things. I never wanted him touching me. This is all a good thing, dammit.

It’s just the not knowing that’s driving me crazy, that’s all. That’s the only reason I’m glad when my period peters off.

Right?

Right, Mel, you just keep telling yourself that.

Okay, so let’s just ignore that snarky bitch who runs around inside my head sometimes trying to tell me inconvenient truths. She doesn’t know what the hell she’s talking about.

Anyway, Xavier’s more than aware when I’m all done with the crimson tide. To my eternal mortification, he hasn’t let one opportunity pass to change out my tampons—seriously, wtf? But whatever, it just means he’s perfectly informed when I’m back in ship-shape order.

That night, baths resume instead of the shower.

Xavier says that he’ll geld Samson soon but that he didn’t want to add stress to the stallion upon his arrival. The way his eyes flick to me when he says this, I wonder if he also simply didn’t want anyone else out on the ranch when I was first here.

Anyway, the bath tonight is extra hot and my entire body relaxes into the water as Xavier massages up my thigh.

Then finally, oh God, finally, his hand dips between my legs.

My back arches in anticipation.

My sex clenches up and my stomach swoops, going liquid.

But after a brief, efficient rub over my pussy lips, his hand moves on.

I just stare at him.

Because again, wtf?

If he feels my stare, he doesn’t react. Not even to return my gaze. He just continues on washing me like everything’s right as rain. The rest of the bath continues. And then ends. Nothing.

Nada.

The water’s draining and my libido is left fully on edge.

I splash the little bit of water left in the bath in frustration. “What?” I look up at him. “What am I doing wrong?”

Eyebrow lift.

I huff out a loud breath and lift my hands in the air. “I don’t get it. What do you want from me?”

“I told you clearly what I want.”

He steps out of the bath, his glorious ass flexing right in my face. I have the urge to take a bite out of it. Teach him what it feels like to be teased and forever on edge without relief.

Then his words register. He’s told me what he wants.

Son of a bitch.

He wants me to beg for his cock.

No way. Absolutely not. Keep dreaming, mister.

I stand up and stubbornly hold my face away from him as he dries my body with the same meticulous attention that he does every night.

Then it’s off to bed where he spoons me tight, slinging his thigh over mine, arm cinched tightly underneath my breast.

“I’m hot,” I say and try to wriggle out from under his hold.

His only response is to throw the covers off and then draw me close again.

Well dammit, now I’m chilly. I roll my eyes. I know I won’t be for long, though, because I usually have the covers tossed off by morning anyway since he’s like a giant damn heater behind me.

I let out a huff of frustration.

The bastard behind me has the audacity to give me one of his low, throaty chuckles. His hand skirts down my abdomen and whispers across my sex before retracting again. His hips press forward and I can feel him rock hard against my ass. My sex clenches reflexively.

“All you have to do is say the word.” His breath is warm on the back of my ear.

I turn my face into the pillow and I grit my teeth.

God, does he think I’m some desperate tramp? I’m not going to be begging him for sex. I never wanted any of this in the first place! He’s just freaking insane. Absolutely out of his gourd.

So why the hell is your body so damn keyed up if he’s the crazy one?

Shut up!

I plump my pillow, punching it into shape, and then pull it close and try to fall asleep.

Annoyingly, like happens so often lately, sleep is a long time coming.

***

We’re in bed a few nights later, still at the same impasse, when yet again, I’m having difficulty sleeping. I fell asleep for a while, but then some noise must have woken me, and now I can’t get back to sleep.

My stupid brain won’t shut up.

I think because when I woke up, I was turned around, my body chest to chest with Xavier, my head nestled into the crook of his neck.

Unconsciously, that’s the position I sought in sleep. I couldn’t have placed myself more vulnerably.

Does it mean something? That even though I’m fighting him so hard when I’m awake, subconsciously I’ve already given up?

Or is ‘given up’ the wrong phrase? Somehow, down deep, do I, like the horses, ultimately find Xavier trustworthy?

Don’t they say that animals have an innate sense about these things? Like, the fact that the horses take so well to him might indicate he actually is a good person? Or am I just making that up and an evil person can trick horses just as well if he’s a master of manipulation?

God, I’m so confused. I look toward the ceiling in the dark room. What time is it anyway? Two a.m.? Three? Just a few hours before Xavier will be dragging us out of bed for the morning.

I shut my eyes again, determined to get back to sleep. The days are long and punishing on my body. I’ll be regretting it tomorrow if I don’t get all the rest I can tonight. I pull the covers up tight.

I’m cold without the contact of Xavier’s body but I couldn’t bring myself to snuggle back up against him after finding myself in that position on waking.

I settle into my pillow again.

“Stop!” Xavier suddenly cries out. “Don’t open the gate!”

Then he swings out, narrowly missing me as I pull back out of the way of his massive arm. He writhes in bed and in the dim light of the full moon streaming in our window, I can see that his face is a scrunched as if he’s in terrible pain.

“Xavier,” I call his name, alarmed.

He continues thrashing in the bed sheets.

“Xavier,” I try again.

“No!” he shouts, so loud it almost hurts my ears.

I reach forward and grab his shoulders.

Wrong move.

Immediately he’s on top of me, body-slamming me into the bed.

“Xavier!” I cry. “Stop, it’s me!” I claw at his arms holding me down. “It’s Pet!”

His eyes have been open yet distant, like he’s watching some other movie playing out in front of him. But suddenly he blinks and he jumps back from me, looking down at his hands in horror, then at me.

“What—” he starts, then stops. He looks confused and bewildered like he’s a small child who’s woken up somewhere he’s never been before. It’s heartbreaking to see in a man usually so absolutely in control.

I crawl across the bed to his side.

“Shh, you’re okay. You just had a nightmare. You’re okay now.” I draw him into my arms, pressing his head to my chest. He wraps his arms around my waist and clutches me close like I’m the only solid thing in his world.

I lay my cheek on his head, inhaling the scent of his simple, clean-smelling shampoo and enjoying the texture of his springing curly hair. I run my fingers through his hair and for once, he actually lets me. I revel in the feel of him.

“What was the nightmare about?” I ask after several minutes. “Sometimes it helps to talk it through?”

And God, I only realize after I ask how much I want him to tell me, to trust me enough to start sharing his secrets with me.

Instead he pulls away. “It was nothing. Let’s get back to sleep. Just a couple hours before we have to be up.”

He tugs me back to lie down with him.

In control again.

I can’t help my frown.

For a few minutes, I was seeing beneath that damn shield he keeps up around himself at all times.

And you? What have you been giving him lately?

I scoff back at my stupid internal voice. I’ve given him so much. I eat from his damn hand. I do all the stupid farm chores he asks of me. I don’t complain when he tells me to do this or do that.

But, what about you? Have you really given him you, your real, true self?

Well hell no, I haven’t. That was the whole point. I was always going to keep the core of me to myself. He was never supposed to be able to touch it.

So I guess I shouldn’t balk when he’s not willing to reciprocate or do so in return.

Then why is there this stinging ache in my chest at the space between us that feels more and more like an empty chasm?

I barely sleep a wink and am tired all the next day.

But after seeing Xavier so vulnerable the night before, I can’t help looking at him in a different light.

There are demons in this man’s past, I’m sure of it. And if I just knew what they were, I bet I could understand him, and even what he wants of me, so much more clearly.

Now—how to find them out. That’s the real question.

One that I’m no closer to figuring out by the end of the week.

Any question I ask only gets deflected with more instructions for riding lessons. And I swear he’s intentionally trying to drive me crazy by dressing more provocatively every day.

Like, by midday, he always takes off his denim button up so that he’s left with nothing but his white tank top underneath. Which reveals acres and acres of his bronzed, muscled skin. And really, are all those muscles necessary?

I mean, yes, he’s hauling around fifty-pound bags of feed and giant water buckets, but when he gets sweaty, which is inevitable on the hot summer days, the tank top just gets soaked through and I can see the definition of every single one of his abs.

It’s just not fair on a girl’s libido.

Which God, seems overcharged all the sudden.

I swear, I don’t know what the hell is going on, but all I can seem to think about, 24/7, is jumping him. When he mounts Samson in the mid-afternoon, my thoughts are all—damn, I wish he would just fucking mount me already.

When he’s grooming Tornado at night, I’m like, uh huh, honey, that’s right, why don’t you turn a brush on me and rub me down soooooooo good because I’ve been a dirty girl.

Real helpful thoughts like that.

He does nothing to make the situation better. Always being so goddamn handsy. Whenever he passes by me in the stable, he never forgoes an opportunity to grab my ass. When reaching for a brush, if there’s a chance to brush my boob, he takes it.

Throughout the day, I’ll feel his heated stare and glance up to see him checking out my assets. Yeah, Xavier’s not big on subtlety.

I’d at least get off on the fact that I’m torturing him as much as me but while every day I feel more and more like a cat in heat, he seems to grow calmer and more serene. I’d think he’s sneaking away to jerk off, but we’re around each other all day long and I’d know. How can a man have that much discipline?!

It’s enough to drive a girl batshit.

Two weeks into this interminable dance, I feel hornier than ever, which is making me snippy as hell.

“Make sure to give Sugar extra water when we get back,” Xavier reminds me for the umpteenth time as he helps me down from Sugar. She and Pioneer drop their noses and start to munch on the tall grass underneath a tree that shades us from the punishing summer heat. We rode these two today because he taught Samson a new skill this morning and felt it was enough for the stallion to take in in a single day. So he took Pioneer for our daily ride. We’ve been exploring farther and farther out on his property each day.

Today our halfway point is a small ridge where there’s some tree cover to drink water and let the horses graze before turning back.

The horses are good and sweaty from the ride in the heat.

“I got it,” I snap, covering my eyes with my hand as I step out from under the shade to look out at the endless acres of land beyond the ridge. “I got it the first twelve times you told me,” I mutter under my breath. It really is beautiful out here. Nothing but more and more land as far as the eye can see. Frankly, it’s a little overwhelming sometimes for a city girl like me.

Xavier lifts his eyebrows as he stares at me from underneath the shade of the tree. I’ve come to know this can mean many things. It can be the eyebrow-lift of amusement. Or surprise. But this one is in warning because of my snippy tone.

I don’t fucking care.

I’m hot and horny and he’s the bastard not taking care of my needs.

I lift my eyebrow exaggeratedly as I rejoin him in the shade and take a long swallow of water from one of the bottles. “What?” I ask. “Yeah, see, I can waggle my eyebrow, too. And you don’t have to tell me to do every single thing a million times. I’m a smart girl. I hear you the first time.”

His jaw sets and he takes a step toward me.

“Oh no,” I mock in a high-pitched voice, dropping the bottle to the ground behind me. “Is Master going to spank me?” I lift my hands up in pretend fright. “Have I been a bad pet?”

His eyes narrow and I feel a thrill shoot up my spine.

I’m poking the beast. It’s reckless and I know it. But the past couple weeks of inactivity have made me thoughtlessly desperate for something—anything—to start moving this whole thing along again.

Xavier steps forward and grasps me, locking my arms against my body. “Careful, Pet.”

“Or what?” I breathe out, my heart thumping furiously, my eyes searching his face. I don’t know what I’m looking for—affection? lust? something… more?—but I hunt for it all the same.

He jerks my head forward and whispers low in my ear. “Or the Big Bad Wolf just might eat you up.”

I laugh a shaky laugh. “He doesn’t seem so big or bad to me lately.”

He yanks my head back and I can see that was the wrong thing to say. Or maybe it was the right thing to say, considering what he does next.

Because he drags me over a few steps, then he sweeps my legs out from under me. Next thing I know, I’m landing on the soft grass.

Then he’s yanking my boots off and my jeans are around my ankles.

And then finally, oh God, finally, that delicious, heavenly, perfect mouth is back where God always intended it to be—licking and tonguing all around my clitoris.

After almost three weeks without any action down there, it feels like all my nerve endings come alight at once. I gasp out a high-pitched squeal of pleasure and my hips buck up against his mouth.

Which has his hands coming to firmly grip my hips, holding me in place exactly where he wants me. All those muscles I was so admiring earlier sure are a damn nuisance now when all I want is to ground up and into him.

“More!” I beg, writhing underneath his hold. “Xavier.” His name is a gasp. “More!”

His tongue licks long and deep all the way up my slit at my plea and I quake down to my bones in response.

Oh my God, no one will ever know my body as well as Xavier. Ever. I’m doomed forever because of this man.

But then rational thoughts get dim because he tongues around and around and one of his hand leaves my hips to start exploring my lips. One finger slips inside. Then a second. They press furtively at first, just a little bit of explorative pressure.

Little whining noises escape my throat, especially when his elbows force my legs wide open. His tongue withdraws from my clit and he pulls his fingers out of my pussy. But only long enough for him to make his tongue hard and long so he can plunge it in and out of my entrance in imitation of… of…

Oh God. My sex tries to clench around him but he’s already gone, licking back up to my clitoris.

But he’s not suckling me or even leaning in with any kind of satisfying pressure. I wriggle underneath him, looking up at the swaying branches overhead.

Please. Oh God, it feels so good, but I need more. The fire he’s stoking—oh Jesus it’s— I can’t even— I had no idea how much I’d been missing it. But I’m liquid fire. The need is all consuming. His touch. His tongue. His heat.

I’ve never needed anything more in my life.

And.

Then.

He.

Stops.

As in, completely stops.

He pulls away from me, stands up, and starts walking away toward his horse like he’s ready to mount up and head back home.

Just leaving me there, spread-eagled and half naked on the grass underneath the fucking tree in the middle of nowhere.

“Wha—” I scramble to a sitting position, shooting daggers that would kill a lesser man. “Get the hell back here!”

He turns to me.

And dares to give me the goddamned eyebrow lift.

“Is there something you wanted?” he asks innocently.

Son of a mother-fucking bastard piece of—

But then my inner tirade stops.

Because it hits me.

There never was any other choice.

We were always going to end up here.

And right now, tortured and on the edge of the sweetest release, with him so mouthwatering, even if part of me does still want to strangle him, I’m all right with that fact.

It seems stupid that I fought it so long.

Still, I can’t help adding a bit of sass as I kick off my jeans and drop my legs open even wider.

“Fuck me, Xavier, please, I’m begging you.” I blink my eyes prettily and put my hands underneath my chin like I’m praying. “Oh please won’t you put that glorious cock inside me and fuck me because I simply cannot live another moment without it?”

His eyes narrow, but he reaches behind him and in one swift motion, jerks his tank top over his head.

My eyes widen at seeing his huge, sweat-slicked chest on display. I know I see him mostly naked every night during our baths—he’s taken to wearing boxers in the tub, like even seeing all of him is a privilege I have to earn—but the sheer size of him never ceases to amaze me. Where the hell do they grow men like him? Did he accidentally swallow some Miracle-Gro as a child or something?

His pants come off next. And boxers.

Oh, wow. He’s fully hard. Like, fully. I really haven’t seen… that part of him since… well, for a long while now. And in the full bright late afternoon sun, just, holy baby Jesus.

It’s long and pulsing and pointed straight at me.

Xavier stalks my direction, gaze dark, his mouth a hard line.

Suddenly all my bravado from moments ago dissipates like a popped bubble.

Um, can I retract my former request and forget I said anything? We’ll just go back to the whole grooming and dinner routine like nothing ever happened? How about that? That’s sounding swell right about now.

Xavier drops on top of me like I imagine a lion might descend on a kill—swift and with dark intent.

“Why don’t we take it slow since—”

His cock is at my entrance and pressing in before I can get another word out.

Oh. Or well, you know, we could just get right down to it and—

“Oh!” I exclaim when he shoves right in, grabbing my ass for better leverage as he drags his cock in and out several times. A low growl rumbles throughout his chest as he hovers over me, holding himself up by one arm propped on the ground.

All my breath is expelled from my lungs at the sudden fullness of his cock. The feeling of him—oh God, he’s inside me—is both completely foreign and in the back of my mind rings a note of familiarity. He’s the only one who’s ever been in this position, but God, so much has happened since he first…

He drags back out in a slow stroke and then with aching attention pushes in. The grass under my back is scratchy, but all I can focus on is him. He, too, seems to be concentrating all his attention on the feel of the head of his cock as it presses in and out of my entrance. And the look on his face—it’s not one of conquering like I might have expected after all this time, him finally getting his way.

Damn him, his features are open and awed. Like he’s regarding the whole experience with reverence.

When he opens his eyes and our gazes lock, my sex clenches around him. His cock jumps inside me in response.

No, this is nothing like the first time.

With the hand not propping himself up, he continues to clutch and massage my hip. He only lets go briefly so he can grab my thigh to urge my leg up and around him. I lift it happily, eager to lock my body around his and ground myself in any way possible.

The feelings he elicits from me. Oh God, it’s insane.

Every stroke seems to take me higher. He swivels and grinds his pelvis against my clit, but more than that, especially when he grabs my leg again and lifts it up to his shoulder, he drives in at an angle that has me gasping and my eyes popping open in shock.

That—holy shit—what is that? I’ve never—

He hits the same spot with his next in stroke and I swear, my eyes roll back in my head.

“Don’t— stop,” I whimper. “Never— fucking— stop!”

Whereas before his thrusts had been slow and somewhat measured, now he starts fucking me with abandon. Every time, hitting that spot so deep, deep inside me. Along with the friction at my clit, oh God, I can’t, I can’t—

My fingers claw at the grass. It’s so—

A high-pitched keening noise starts in my throat.

“Xavier, Xavier!” I call out, almost scared by the intensity of everything I’m feeling. It’s too much. All too much. But oh, don’t stop. Never stop. Never, ever, ever stop.

“Eyes,” Xavier calls out. “On me.”

My eyes have been flicking around wildly but I finally focus up on him. The wind whips up, whistling across the ridge. His nostrils flare and his stern face is drawn with strain as he thrusts and thrusts and thrusts.

“Precious,” is all he says and then he leans down, drawing me close to him with his hands slipping underneath my armpits and wrapping around my shoulders from behind. He begins to fuck me like a man possessed.

My orgasm hits on a wild high and continues while he thrusts in and out and in and out. He pushes in and holds it for one long moment while I’m still at the height of my high.

He’s coming. Inside me. We’re coming at the same time. I cry out and tears leak down my cheeks.

I abandon the saddle blanket and wrap my arms around him, clutching him instead.

Never stop. Never let go. Ever.

He pumps inside me several more times.

By the time he pulls away, the devastation at his loss goes so much deeper than the physical separation as he pulls out of me.

Because I know there’s no way out of it now.

I’m going to be absolutely wrecked by this man.