ONE MONTH LATER…
Never in my life have I appreciated a sunset quite like this one.
A smoldering collision of color dyes the line where heaven kisses the seam of the earth. The meadow blushes in shades of blue, tangerine, and red. Fire red. Like her hair.
Conor kneels on a blanket a few feet away, her curvy silhouette cut out of the sky like a piece of the night. When she breathes or twitches, streaks of color shimmer across the backdrop and dance over her naked body.
I stand in awe of her mesmerizing perseverance. It’s only been a month since she watched me strangle Levi Tibbs. She still has setbacks with her PTSD, but she doesn’t let it control her. She doesn’t let fear stop her forward progression.
She tilts her face to the sky, eyes closed and hair falling in flames of red behind her. Sitting on her heels, she holds her thighs open, her wrists tethered with rope at her back and every inch of her gloriously nude.
I’m going to annihilate her final trigger tonight.
I search her expression and already know I won’t find vulnerability there. My girl is sunshine, rawhide, and pure fight. The bottle of lubricant on the blanket beside her doesn’t deter her. Whatever fear she still has about anal sex, she’ll face it with radiance and ferocity.
Far to the south, the ravine is filled in, leveled, and sealed with a huge concrete slab. We used the money from Levi Tibbs’ duffel bag to pour the cement pad. It’ll be the foundation for the veterinary clinic I plan to build over the next two years.
The ravine was an ideal place to discard the dirt from the nearby drilling site, and since there’s already a back-road entrance to the property there, it makes sense to build her clinic in that location. Anyone who might be suspicious of the newly poured concrete would consider these factors.
When I told Conor about the investment decision, her soaring joy trumped any trepidation she had about erecting her business on top of a graveyard.
There are still obstacles ahead—the manhunt for Levi Tibbs, the unpredictability of my missing father, and the unfinished business between my brother and Maybe Quinn. Whatever game Jarret is playing with the journalist is guaranteed to end badly, but he refuses to heed my advice to get rid of her.
On the bright side, Conor completed all the steps for her proof of residency and filed the revocation of the Power of Attorney. In two years, she’ll be finished with school and Lorne will likely be released on parole. He and Conor own the land. Jarret and I own the cattle operation. We’re so close to getting our dreams back on track.
Speaking of dreams, I let mine wait long enough.
I approach her sleek, fluid silhouette and stare down at her sanguine lips. Her eyes open, soft and resounding in the fading light. Her mouth wears the hint of a smile, enough to suggest she’s enjoying her thoughts.
I step between her spread knees and curl my fingers around her neck. Her throat bounces against my thumb, but she stays quiet, attentive, and lets the weight of her upper body sink in the collar of my hand.
Her surrender’s as beautiful as the iridescence of color emblazoned on her body. Her muscle definition creates tight dips and winding trails along her outline. Flawless bone structure, skin like silk over porcelain, she glows with the kind of beauty that fucks with a man’s self-control.
Every part of me hardens and heats. Pulses of hunger throb below my belt, tightening my fingers around her throat and flooding my cock with blood.
Her gaze dips to my straining zipper, and she laughs at me. “Eager, are we?”
“You have no idea.”
She lifts her chin and touches her tongue to her lips. “I’m yours.”
Our future manifests inside me, brought into existence by those two words. I want to see my ring on her finger, her belly swollen with my child, and her veterinary clinic thriving beneath her dedication on our prosperous ranch.
I lower to my knees and roam my hands. Her body is my shrine, my place of worship, and I pay homage to every curve and crevice, kissing and licking, stroking and kneading.
She begs for my cock until I give it to her. Then she begs for release until she comes undone in my arms.
But I’m not finished with her, and her awareness of my plans flickers in her green-grass eyes.
“I’ll go slow.” I untie her arms and position her on her knees with her gorgeous ass in the air.
“That’s what you always say.” She laughs nervously.
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes.” No hesitation.
The fall of night robs us of the sunset colors and darkens the fields to obsidian. Bent over before me, she’s no more than a flowing black outline, sighing languidly and dripping with arousal.
I’ve played with her asshole often over the past month, getting her used to the sensations. She’s relaxed, and that means whatever’s going on in her head isn’t causing her to tense up.
Her knees grace the ground, her body swaying like a delicate flower in grass, and I take her as such. Lubricating and pushing against her ring of muscle with care.
Her flashbacks surface, but she fights them. I work her through it with starts and stops, running a hand up and down her spine and marking the changes in her breathing. It takes a while, but I have all the time in the world.
Eventually, she calms enough to accept me, and goddamn, she’s tight, squeezing and releasing around me. Nothing has ever felt this good. The impulse to pound into her grips my body, but I lock it down, keeping my thrusts slow and gentle.
“This is nothing like I remember.” She arches her back, relaxing further into my thrusts.
“Jesus, I hope not.” I dig my fingers into her hips.
She glances over her shoulder, eyes steady on mine and lips parted. “You can go faster.”
A blazing flame crackles and scorches the air between us. I tangle my fingers in her hair and pull, using my grip to bring her back to my chest and her head against my shoulder.
Then I fuck her, dragging my cock along the walls of her dark tunnel, grunting, and fingering her wet pussy. I suck hard on her neck and scrape teeth against tender skin. Her moans feed my hunger. Her breasts fill my hands, and she holds on, reaching back to clutch my ass.
This is us, wild and incendiary, dancing in the open air like a campfire. Galloping through the pasture against the wind. Soaring over the ridge with falcon wings and marveling at the glory of our life together.
I watch her profile as she comes, holding back my own release so I can savor hers—the silent scream, arched neck, and full-body tremors. She’s so much more than a gorgeous woman. She’s love and fight, laughter and tears, challenge and ecstasy.
She’s the best parts of my past come to life. Like a phantom dream.
Except I know this is real.
Because I’m more in love with the woman in my arms than my memories of her.