What Ace doesn’t know is how sexy I found saddle bronc riding to be. I wasn’t expecting that. At all.
But seeing how hard the riders had to squeeze their thighs together and how much they bucked their hips, well, all I could envision was what Ace would look like doing that.
Naked.
While thrusting those hips into me.
Somehow, I have turned into a horny mess around this man. I’m sure it’s from the anticipation of what’s to come tonight combined with how long it’s been. Doesn’t hurt that I read romance books for a living either.
But I can’t discount the man himself and how attracted I am to him anyway. He just makes me feel beautiful.
No that’s not right.
He makes me feel worthy. Like I’m worth the time and effort and difficulty of putting up with the chaos I’m surrounded with. And that is the sexiest thing about him—how he makes me feel about myself.
I spent so many years in a bad marriage feeling unworthy of anything. Like I couldn’t do anything right. The house was never clean enough. My stomach was never flat enough. My time was never important enough.
Being with Ace is the exact opposite. In general, he puts others first. But when he decides he cares about you, well. It’s just a whole other level of sacrifice. It’s so much deeper.
Add onto it the tight jeans, calloused hands, now the visual image of him bronc riding and that’s it for me. My self-imposed, although accidental, celibacy is definitely ending tonight.
Driving up to the front of the house, I realize I’ve seen it from a distance many times when I’ve visited the farm, but I’ve never seen it up close.
“How old is this house?” I ask when he parks. Even by today’s standards, it’s a large home. Two stories with a wraparound porch on bottom and a large balcony jutting out from the second floor.
Ace grabs my duffle out of the back of the truck and walks around to help me down, even though I’m already admiring house.
“My great grandfather built it back in the ‘20s. They had something like eight kids so they needed a lot of room.”
“It’s beautiful.”
He smiles, never letting go of my hand as he leads me to the front door. One of the stairs squeaks when we step on it and Ace shrugs sheepishly.
“It’s creaky. There are a lot of boards that need replacing. But I like living here.”
Making our way through the front door, I look around. It smells like an older home. Like cedar and musk and… life. I look up and see all the way to the ceiling, which has a huge old chandelier. A railing on the second floor wraps around the entirety of that level so you can overlook the foyer from anywhere. It gives the illusion that the rooms are set up in one big square and we’re in the center of it all. Old pictures that span back generations pepper the wall next to the stairs leading to that balcony. To my left, through a very large door, at least ten feet tall, appears to be a formal living room. To my right, an office.
“This is where the magic happens,” Ace says walking into the room and flipping on the light. The switch is so old, it’s two buttons that click when you push them. The top one to turn the lights on. The bottom to turn them off. Besides that, nothing really stands out. It looks like a normal office. Except as we walk through, there’s a second door. “No one knows why there are two doors in here, but this one leads to the kitchen.”
Sure enough, we end up next to a screen door that leads outside, a full bathroom across from us, and the massive kitchen just to our left.
“This is the busiest part of the house and where Brittany spends most of her time.”
“Everyone eats here?” I run my fingers down a solid wood table that probably seats more than a dozen people. Long benches made of the same wood are pushed underneath.
He nods. “Breakfast, lunch and dinner.”
That explains the bathroom by the back door.
“Must be weird having people come in and out of your house without knocking all day long.”
He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “They aren’t wandering the house or anything. But it would probably seem odd if I hadn’t grown up with it happening. The farm hands all have to eat and it’s my responsibility to feed them.”
“How did Brittany end up working for you?”
He chuckles and the sound reverberates through me. I wonder what it’d feel like for him to make a deep sound like that while he’s on top of me.
I blink away my wayward thoughts. We have all night, Greer. Slow your roll.
“Pedro actually met her on a dating site. When they got engaged she happened to be in between jobs, but didn’t want to get stuck behind a desk anymore. I guess she was tired of corporate America or something. But she liked cooking so we gave it a shot. She’s been taking care of us ever since.”
We continue walking around the building, making our way through another door into a formal dining room that boasts the largest fireplace I’ve ever seen in my life. I could stand straight up inside it and still see out. The formal living room I noticed when we first walked in is attached. Ace tells me the history behind some of the pictures on the walls and stories that have been passed down, like the time his great uncles got stuck inside the now non-functional dumb waiter.
Eventually, we come full circle and end up back in the foyer.
Standing at the bottom of the stairs, Ace clears his throat. “Um. The only things upstairs are the bedrooms. I don’t know if you’re tired, or…”
He stalls his sentence and shoves his hands in his pockets.
“Ace, you don’t have to be a gentleman with me anymore.”
I watch as his eyes darken and his lids grow heavy. This is the most awkward we’ve been and I know it’s because he wants to make sure I’m ready. “I’m trying to take it at your pace. I don’t ever want you to think this is all I want from you.”
I bite my bottom lip and take two steps forward, until our chests are touching. “I already know that. And I appreciate how much you respect me. But when we’re alone, and especially in the bedroom, I don’t want a gentleman. I want all of you.”
He blinks once and before it even registers, he has me pinned against the wall, kissing me like our lives depend on it. His tongue is hot and strong, plunging into my mouth with a promise of what’s to come. His strong hand wraps around my hair as he pulls my head to the side, giving him access to my neck.
I’m panting and writhing against him as he assaults my neck and collarbone with his lips and tongue and teeth. His erection presses right up against me so I can’t mistake this for anything less than what it is… passion. More passion than I’ve ever felt in my life.
Just as I’m getting my bearings straight, he picks me up by my thighs. “Straddle me.”
So I do. Locking my feet together behind him, he pushes up against me one more time making us groan simultaneously with the friction, before pushing us off the wall and stomping up the stairs. I take the opportunity to kiss down his strong jaw, nipping at his Adam’s Apple and pulling his shirt to the side to kiss down to his collar bone. I have no idea where we’re headed, I just know we need a bed and we need it soon.
Tossing me onto a mattress I didn’t realize was so close, I squeal with both delight and a tiny bit of fear from flying through the air. I already know this is the kind of sex I have desired my whole life. Respectful, loving, and wild with passion.
He rips his shirt over his head before I even stop bouncing from the landing and now I’m looking at the pale, rock hard abs. I’d always wondered if they were under there. I’m no dummy. I know the book boyfriends I help bring to life aren’t real, but I always wondered if it was possible for a real man to be that cut.
The answer is yes. Yes he can.
“Don’t mind the farmer’s tan,” he jokes and for the first time I notice that his torso is, in fact, a significantly lighter shade of golden brown than his arms.
“As long as you don’t mind a few extra dimples in certain places.” I wave down my body and he growls, literally growls his displeasure.
Holy crap, that was hot.
“I think women have a terrible understanding of what really attracts men,” he explains as he pulls my boots and socks off. I push the thoughts of how sweaty my feet must be out of my head and try to remind myself that unless he has a toe fetish, it won’t be an issue anyway. “Men don’t care about a few extra dimples or a few extra pounds. Men care about how women make us feel. And you, Greer, make me feel like I’m on top of the world.”
He slowly runs his hands up my legs, making me shiver.
“You make me feel like I’m important. Like I’m powerful. Like I hung the moon. The way you look at me, like I’m the most attractive man in the world is a bigger turn on than a super model figure.”
His fingers flip open the button of my jeans and I gasp.
“I want to kiss every dimple, every stretch mark, every scar, and every freckle because there’s a story behind each and every one of them. They made you who you are. They represent your journey.”
Slowly, oh so slowly, he pulls the zipper of my jeans down. I can’t take my eyes off his as he peals me out of the denim and tosses it aside. Reaching my waist, he lifts my shirt up, up, up until I have to lean forward for him to pull it off of me.
Laying back down, I watch as he takes his on jeans off. His eyes peruse my body like I do to him. Biting my lip, I find myself squeezing my thighs together to rid myself of the ache that’s formed. Before this moment, the only time I’ve felt this ache was when I was deep—and I mean deep—into a really hot book. But certainly not during sex. There is definitely something to be said for anticipation.
Licking his own lips, Ace climbs up the bed and over top of me, covering his body with mine. “Still want me to put my manners aside?”
I smile and nod. “Watching those bronc riders gave me very dirty thoughts about what you can do with your hips.”
His jaw drops open. “You dirty girl!” he chides, making me laugh. The vibrations create more friction between us, and suddenly we’re not laughing anymore, but gasping at the sensations.
As requested, Ace doesn’t take things slow. His kiss is hard and demanding. His touch is rough. It’s everything I’ve ever fantasized about.
He is everything I’ve ever fantasized about. And more.