Heat crept up my neck. “We might have explored some other healing modalities.” I grinned. “It just happened. The energy was right.”
“Uh-huh. And how was the energy?”
“Really fucking good,” I admitted, and we both cracked up.
Ramon dried his hands. “So what's the plan? You seeing him again?”
“Yeah, we've got sessions scheduled for the next few days. Vincent requested I work with him.” I shrugged. “Should be interesting.”
“Interesting,” Ramon repeated with a knowing look. “That's one word for it.”
After Ramon headed to his room, I took a long shower, letting the hot water work out the pleasant ache in my muscles. My mind drifted back to Cord, the way he'd looked at me, touched me, trusted me with something so vulnerable.
It had been good. Really good. But I wasn't about to make it into something bigger than it was. Hot guy, great chemistry, healing work that happened to include mind-blowing sex. Nothing wrong with that.
I toweled off and pulled on soft sweatpants, then padded barefoot to my easel in the corner of our living room. The energy from the session still hummed through me, and my fingers itched to translate it onto paper.
The charcoal moved across the sketch pad: broad shoulders, the curve of a strong back, the way Cord had looked when he'd arched beneath me. Not trying to capture every detail, just feeling it. The trust, the intensity, when he'd let go of all that control.
I've always been better with my hands than my head, better at feeling my way through things than overthinking them. And right now, this felt right. A good connection with someone who needed what I could offer, wrapped up in some hot sex.
Nothing to analyze. Nothing to worry about.
Just good.
My phone buzzed with a text from my brother Jake. I glanced at it but didn't pick up the device. Whatever he wanted could wait until tomorrow. Right now, I just wanted to ride this mellow, satisfied feeling a little longer.
The sketch was coming together nicely, not too detailed, just enough to capture the essence of the evening. I stepped back to look at it, smiling at what I'd created.
Yeah. That had been good.
And if we got to do it again tomorrow? Even better.
I set the charcoal down and stretched, feeling tired in that post-yoga, post-sex kind of way. Time for bed, and maybe some actual sleep instead of overthinking things.
Because sometimes, the best thing you could do was just let good things be good.
Chapter Four
Cord
The sun warmed my skin as I eased into the pool, careful to keep my shoulder brace dry. I'd been up for hours, showering left-handed, which still felt like learning to write with my off-hand, then forcing down breakfast while scrolling through messages I couldn't answer thanks to The Ranch's strict communication policy.
Before heading out, I'd noticed housekeeping had restocked my suite's amenities. Fresh bottles of massage oil lined up on the nightstand like soldiers, a new selection of toys and lubes arranged in the open credenza by the bed, and someone had replaced the flavored condoms in the bowl on the coffee table. The Ranch didn't hide what it was. Everything screamed sex, from the adjustable leather chaise positioned beneath the mirror to the hooks built into the exposed beam ceiling. This place wore its purpose like a badge of honor.
Swimming left-handed was another adjustment, but the weightless feeling was worth it. For twenty minutes, I managed to forget that my right arm was useless. The Percocet I'd takenearlier had kicked in nice, that familiar warm buzz settling into my bones. Just one more won't hurt, I'd reasoned when I dry-swallowed it after my shower.
Yesterday had been active. Today would be too.
I was heading toward a lounger when a voice stopped me.
“Well, shit. Cord Morales?”
I turned to find a guy about my age lounging in one of the cabanas, another man riding his cock. The cabana's sheer curtains were pulled wide open, because why the fuck wouldn't they be?—giving everyone a perfect view. Two staff members walked past with fresh towels, not even glancing at the show. Around the pool, other cabanas featured similar scenes: a threesome in one, someone getting blown in another, a couple grinding against each other in the shallow end of the pool.
This was The Ranch. Sex wasn't hidden here. It was the whole point.
The bottom was focused on his work, but the guy underneath was grinning at me like we were old friends. Something about him looked familiar—the sharp cheekbones, the expensive ink covering his arms.
