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“Now, that’s how you do it!”
It wasn’t until then that Boone cracked a smile.
And I fell just a little bit harder.
15
BOONE
After Harrison handed over the food Norma had sent—another elaborate spread from the looks of it—he left for the long drive back, and not a moment too soon. Finally, Richard and I were alone again.
Richard shuffled his feet, looking almost nervous. He kept scoring his teeth across his bottom lip, and if he didn’t stop soon, I wouldn’t be able to resist running my tongue against that plump flesh.
As if he sensed the direction of my thoughts, he cleared his throat. “So…”
I grinned. I liked him like this—full of anticipation and a little bit of nerves. Waiting for me to make good on my promise from earlier.
I slowly stepped toward him and watched as his pupils dilated with desire. I pressed my palm against his chest and slowly slid it down his front until I cupped the bulge in his jeans. “Please tell me you have lube and a condom in one of those fancy kits of yours.”
He groaned, his eyelashes fluttering. “Yes. Of course.” He began to pull away to go get it, but I kept my grip on his cock.
“Not yet,” I told him. He let out a squeak of needy protest.
I began to stroke him and leaned into him so that my lips brushed the shell of his ear as I spoke. “Tonight.”
“Oh god,” he moaned. His head dropped to my shoulder. His teeth nipped at my neck. “Need you now.”
I dropped my hand and let out a low chuckle. “Work first, play later.” I wasn’t sure who I was damning the most with my words, him or me. It would be a long day in the saddle at this rate, but I also knew if I allowed myself to indulge in him right now, we’d never leave this spot.
Richard let his head fall back as he blew out a long breath. “Fine.”
I smiled. “Now, saddle up. We have a lot of ground to cover.”
A string of muttered curses followed me as I settled myself on Victory’s back. My own cock was just as hard as Richard’s had been, and I wanted nothing more than to throw him down then and there and get us both off. But I liked the idea of his anticipation even more. And I liked the trust he was putting in me to take care of him.
Once Richard had mounted Branson, we moved off toward the northern boundary of the ranch. As we traveled, I pointed out plants, trees, rock formations, the remains of an old hunting cabin, and even an eagle.
He absorbed all the information I threw at him and even asked for more—wanting to know what I’d studied in school, how I’d grown the size of the herd, and what my longer-term plans were for the ranch.
I’d turned the tables on him and learned he’d studied business in college, but only at his dad’s insistence. He’d dutifully taken statistics and economics and everything else his father had deemed important, but then he’d audited several art and fashion classes as well. “Because I audited them, they never showed up on my transcript, so dear old Dad never learned that his hard-earned tuition money was spent educating me on the evolution of the silhouette and textiles through the ages.”
“You rebel, you,” I’d gasped.
He’d preened. Then he’d gone on to tell me more about his classes and about how he’d put them to use designing costumes for his friends. I’d never thought about fashion much before and knew next to nothing on the subject, but Richard explained things with so much enthusiasm that it was hard not to understand his interest in it.
It wasn’t until we’d been talking about it for a while that I realized the implications of what he’d said about auditing all those classes. “But wait, if you were taking all those other classes, that was like a double course load,” I’d pointed out.
He’d shrugged. “The assignments never felt like work. It was just fun.”
I’d made a mental note that it was just more evidence that Richard wasn’t the man he sometimes seemed at first glance.
We’d continued talking, swapping stories as we rode north. The landscape was different in the northeast corner of the ranch. There weren’t any grazing lands on a large swath of it due to the craggy, rocky ridge that ran across the corner. I led him up part of the ridge to show him one of my favorite views.
“This is incredible,” he breathed, looking out at miles and miles of fertile Wyoming forage area.
I pointed out the distant mountain ranges and told him a little history about the area, and he asked more questions, proving he was curious and eager to learn.
Again and again, I noticed how different Richard was from the lazy, entitled, spoiled rich kid Oscar had warned me about. Was that simply because Oscar was too loyal to James to try to look below the surface? Or was Richard somehow different out here than he was back home?
