AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Total chaos.
But after a few wild minutes, I get them under control and settled back in their pen.
Plath’s a little harder to contain.
She’s a bit like me.
Feisty as hell, and once her blood’s up, she’s ready to go hoof to hoof with just about anyone.
Thank God for Frost.
She’s got this thing with him where she just can’t bring herself to lash out at her buddy—and when he trots me over to her and lays his head across her neck, she stops her snorting.
I swing down out of the saddle, looping my arms around both their necks and stroking their manes; their big heads hang heavy against my shoulders, hot horseflesh against my skin.
“There we go, guys,” I soothe. “Everything’s okay.”
Holt comes loping up, chagrin written all over his face as clearly as the dirt streaked all over him.
“Sorry,” he says. “Don’t know what happened. It’s like the sheep just hate me.”
“Animals can sense pure evil,” I say dryly, and he belts out a laugh while I snort. “Look, you obviously can’t be trusted not to destroy this place if I let you do anything hard. Why don’t you put Plath away, give her a good rubdown and a carrot or two, and then muck out the stalls?”
He blanches. “I fucked up so bad you’re putting me on horseshit duty?”
I smirk, nodding. “Yep. That bad. It ain’t glamorous, but at least it’s hard to screw up.”
“Fuck, fine,” he growls out an exaggerated sigh and hooks an arm around my waist, pulling me in close with an easy strength that makes my stomach flip. Leaning down, he buries his face in my hair, breathing in deep. “Just let me get a smell of you first for the road.”
Tangling my fingers in his grubby shirt, I choke on a laugh. “Aww, c’mere.”
I don’t need to ask him twice.
My lips hit his and we go hard.
He kisses me rough, makes me forget everything but the feel of Holt Silverton completely taking me over in shivers and gasps. I’m nearly rubbing my body against his in rhythm with the deep, teasing stroke of his tongue.
There’s a sweet friction to it, slick and velvety as our tongues duel.
I feel every caress, warming me up so hot I know I’ll be feeling him for hours.
God, I’m letting him in too deep.
I know it.
I just can’t seem to help myself.
Finally, I break for air, shoving at his chest.
“Go,” I say. “Get gone.”
“Getting gone,” he says, saluting me with that unrepentant grin. It’s made all the worse by the fact that his mouth is so red.
I watch him storm away on those long, muscular legs, looking like walking sin.
Yep, I hate that man.
…if only because I love how he makes me feel.
It just ain’t fair.
* * *
There’s a lot that goes into running a ranch, and with Frost for company, I head out to mend a few fences that’ve been left neglected for far too long.
Don’t even go there with the Sierra metaphors.
It’s twilight by the time I’m done.
When it’s over, I’m sweaty, scraped up, sore, and working out a few splinters.
Still picking them out, I mount up and head back to the barn. I’m so in tune with Frost’s gait that I can ride without even holding the reins, busily focused on tugging little bits of wood out from under the skin of my fingertips.
I find out real quick that’s a mistake.
When as I draw up to the barn, I catch a hint of motion.
Holt, standing there outside the barn with the hose held over his head, water pouring down him in glittering sheets.
Crap city.
He’s shucked his outer shirt, leaving one of those ridiculously tight undershirts and his jeans, both of them soaked to his skin until he might as well be naked.
The fabric clings, outlining every chisel of his abs, every hard edge of his pecs, every ripple and bulge of the gorgeously toned muscles in his thighs. His bare arms glisten, the water running into the sharp-cut channels between stark ridges of biceps and forearms.
He sloughs off dirt from the barn like he’s trying to tease me to death.
It’s like one of those pinup calendars with half-naked cowboys come to life.
And I’m so busy watching I don’t even realize I’m squeezing my hot, aching thighs against Frost’s flanks so hard the horse jolts forward.
I’m not sure if the lurch in my gut is vertigo or a sudden flare of twisted desire.
He doesn’t even see me yet.
Doesn’t realize I’m watching this lion of a man with a ruthless hunger building up inside me.
But I can’t hold back.
I’m swinging down before I realize it, looping Frost’s reins around the closest post and striding across the space between us like I’m being pulled on a tether.
He lowers the hose, bowing his head down just as I close in.
There’s a second where his head tilts.
