Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 34190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 171(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 171(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
When I finally come back to earth, I find my limbs are jelly, and my skin is still tingling, every inch of me burning with leftover desire for him. Cole collapses beside me, and for a long, breathless minute, neither of us moves. We just lie there, tangled together, soaking up the aftermath.
Cole is the first to speak. “Holy shit.” He turns to face me, and I see his blue eyes are darker than I’ve ever seen them. “You okay?”
I want to answer. I really do. But my brain isn’t fully functioning yet. All I manage is a dazed, “Uh-huh.”
His face splits into this lazy, satisfied grin. He tucks my hair behind my ear, then strokes the side of my face like he can’t get enough of touching me. He leans in, kissing my temple, my cheekbone, my mouth. “I’m never giving you up.” He isn’t joking. The look in his dark navy eyes tells me he’s dead fucking serious.
Cole shifts, propping himself up on one elbow. The sheet slips down, revealing his chest, and I notice a few fresh scratches that are one hundred percent my doing. I’m not at all sorry I marked him.
We lie there, naked and all tangled up, until the sweat dries on our skin and goosebumps ripple down my arms. I shiver a little, but I don’t want to move. I don’t want this to end, not even for a second.
Cole must sense it, because he pulls me closer, fitting my body to his like we’ve done this a thousand times. He kisses my forehead, my cheek, the tip of my nose, each one softer than the last.
A while later, he sighs like he just realized how late it is. “I should probably go. If I lie here much longer, I’ll fall asleep, and your grandmother is going to find us like this. And I have a feeling she’ll shoot me.”
I open my mouth to protest, but I know he’s right. Grams wouldn’t appreciate finding Cole’s bare ass in my bed. But damn, the thought of him leaving makes my stomach twist.
Cole sees it. He cups my cheek, thumb stroking just under my eye, and leans in to kiss me again. It’s such a sweet kiss, my heart melts all over again. “I’ll be back,” he promises. “Early.”
I bury my face in his neck, breathing him in one last time. “Good,” I say, muffled against his skin. “You forgot to unload the trailer of hay.”
He laughs, low and rough. “I’ll unload for you all day long.” How does he manage to make that sound dirty?
As Cole rolls away and sits up, I watch him, shameless. He stands and stretches, and holy hell, the man is freaking gorgeous.
He finds his boxer-briefs on the floor and shimmies into them, then yanks on his jeans and flannel. He looks back at me. “Come lock the door behind me.”
I yank on my faded blue flannel shorts and that threadbare Montana State t-shirt with the hole near the collar—just in case Grams comes home early from bingo night.
My bare feet pad against the cool hardwood as I follow him down the dimly lit hallway to the front door. He turns, his calloused thumb tracing my bottom lip before he gives me one more kiss that tastes like Cole and promises. When he finally pulls away, his eyes linger on mine for a heartbeat before he slips out into the night air, the screen door clicking shut behind him before the words "please stay" can escape my throat.
I head back to my bedroom and climb back under the warm covers. My heart is pounding, and my skin is buzzing, and suddenly, I realize I’m still grinning like a maniac.
I know I should be worried about what happens next—about what it means to let a man like Cole Carrington into my life, my ranch, my heart. But all I can think about is the way he looked at me when he said “mine.”
I want to be his, and that doesn’t scare me like it should.
I pull the covers tight around me, breathing in the smell of him still clinging to my sheets. It’s going to be a long, lonely night, but I’ve got a feeling tomorrow morning will be worth it.
I grab the pillow he used and clutch it tightly to my chest.
Yeah, I’m gone. And I don’t even care.
An hour later, I’m still staring at the ceiling, wide awake. Since I’m not going to be sleeping any time soon, I decide to make hot chocolate. I pour it into my biggest mug, pile on a mountain of whipped cream, and drizzle it with chocolate syrup.
I take my prize to the kitchen table and sit, cradling the warmth in both hands. The silence settles around me.
My mind drifts. I wonder if this is what it’s supposed to feel like when you finally meet someone who makes your soul light up like a Christmas tree.