Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 24659 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 99(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24659 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 99(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
But when I close my eyes, all I see is Lena.
Naked, wet perfection, smirking at me like a wild temptress.
I strip off my jeans, spit on my palm, and begin stroking my cock while I picture her perfection. Christ, what it would feel like to slide my shaft between those plump tits. What that tiny little line between her thighs…with just a little tuft of hair. I bet she gets herself waxed at a high-end salon back in the city, but there’s nothing like that out here. Even still, that wouldn’t stop me from spreading her legs and going down on her, lapping at her clit like a hungry dog until she was screaming my name.
God, help me. I don’t think I can stay away. My resolve is crumbling like old clay under too much sun.
And the worst part?
I don’t think she wants me to.
5
LENA
I’m losing my frigging mind.
My thighs are sore, my hands are raw, and I’m wound up so tight that I feel like screaming.
And it’s all because of him.
Colt Ryder, the gorgeous, brooding, maddening cowboy who thinks he can glare at me from under the brim of his hat and keep me in “my place” by barking orders and threatening me with more punishments.
I thought last night would cause him to act.
Last night when he watched me–saw every single naked inch of me. No other man alive has seen what Colt saw last night at the pond. I offered myself to him like a female in heat, and he denied me.
He was hard, I know that. I could see the bulge, very visible, beneath his dirty jeans. His eyes were flaming as he raked my body with them, and yet he still turned away like I’m some little girl who doesn’t know what she’s doing. Like I’m a mistake just waiting to be made.
But he’s wrong. He doesn’t know anything about me.
And I’m just dying to show him.
I’ve literally felt his gaze on my skin since I first arrived. I’ve heard him muttering things about me below his breath when he thinks I’m out of earshot. I’ve seen the way his fists clench tightly and his jaw flexes whenever he checks me out or I sass him.
Colt wants me. There’s no question about it.
So then why won’t he act on it? Is he just too stubborn to admit it? Is it some kind of gentleman-cowboy code that I don’t know about?
Well, if he won’t do something, I will. I’m tired of pretending there isn’t something going on between us.
I slam the barn door shut behind me so hard that the horses shift in their stalls, whinnying nervously. The morning sun is high, slanting through the windows in golden shafts that light the dust as I march past the stacks of hay bales and the saddles hanging from their racks.
I know he’s in here. I can feel him.
And sure enough, as I walk down the row between the stalls, I hear him. That low, gravelly voice, rumbling a curse at a broken feed bucket. The sound of his boots on dirty concrete. “Nobody else to get this goddamn work done,” he mutters, drawing a smile from my lips.
“There he is,” I say loudly, crossing my arms and smirking down at him where he kneels in the hay.
Colt looks up, and the second his eyes land on my body, I feel it. That raw, electric tugging sensation that makes the air too thick to breathe and causes my heartrate to skyrocket. His face is a storm of indignation–eyes narrow, brow furrowed–but behind it all, there’s something incredibly hot that pulls at me like gravity.
It’s need.
“Lena,” he say slowly, his voice low and controlled, like I’m some spooked little barn cat he doesn’t want to scare off. “No more screwing around–”
“I’m not here to play games, Colt,” I interrupt, stepping closer.
He nods. “That’s good. Then turn your little ass around and march out of this barn and let me work.”
I pause, smile, and shake my head. “Sorry. That’s not happening.”
He stands up slowly. His shoulders look even broader in the shaft of light illuminating him like he’s on a stage, his white tee clinging to the sweat slicking his enormous chest. He chucks the feed bucket behind him with a loud clang, almost like he’s trying to intimidate me.
All it does is turn me on even more.
“I’m your boss here, Lena–”
“I’m tired of you acting like you don’t see me,” I snap, my emotions rising up in my chest. I’m hot, and my cheeks are burning. “Sick and tired of this strong, angry cowboy act you’re putting on. You watched me last night, Colt. You looked at me like you wanted to throw me over your shoulder and have your way with me.”
A growl sounds low and deep in his throat.