Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73094 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73094 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Jesse was down there. He was naked, stripped bare so that he could wade into the shallow, glittering stream, his tattooed skin a burst of color against the green and pale brown landscape.
I was desperate for him.
Jesse looked up at me as I traipsed down the bush-lined path toward the river, and there was a knowing look in his eyes: there you are.
I closed the distance between us. He sat down onto a blanket by the river and I straddled him.
We were so close. I looked at his freckles, running my fingertips over them. I was already hard, my cock aching to be closer to him—to be in him, pushing past his lips.
His green eyes reflected the dappled sunlight under the trees, full of questions. His hand came up to my face, and he pressed his fingers gently against my mouth.
“You know we shouldn’t,” he murmured in his deep voice. I moved my face in close, kissing against his fingers.
“I know.”
The only thing separating my mouth from his was his hand. I licked between two of his fingers, my tongue sliding against an exposed portion of his mouth. He groaned as I rocked my hips forward, begging for more contact.
“Bad idea,” he murmured.
But his fingers slipped downward as he said it, like a tide moving off the shore. The moment I could, I claimed his lips with mine.
“Need you,” I uttered against his lips before the slick heat of his tongue met mine.
I needed his voice.
The way it sounded when someone younger still called me a good boy.
Call me a good boy, again?
“You’re a fucking mess,” he whispered against me instead. “What are you hiding from, Mason?”
My heart suddenly pounded like a drum.
Desire gave way to panic. I’d been caught red-handed again, and I didn’t know what my crime was.
My dreams often ended like this.
“Not hiding from anything,” I told him.
His green eyes smoldered. “You’re lying to me. Stop.”
The dream morphed. I was suddenly scrambling again, getting up and trying to run away again, like I always did. To push away from him. Running into the summer sun, hoping that Jesse wouldn’t catch me this time—that he wouldn’t find the real me.
But Jesse was close behind me, no matter where I ran. I wanted to disappear, but also wanted to turn back into his arms, all at the same time.
I woke up with a gasp, pushing up onto my elbows.
The light was still bright outside. It poured in through the tall windows, making lit-up rectangles of light along my living room floor. I checked the clock and it was only three in the afternoon.
“Fuck,” I whispered.
I must have nodded off just half an hour ago, falling into a deep nap in the pool of sunlight on my couch. I’d been texting Jesse one minute, and then dozing the next.
I could see the endless leaves of the oak trees outside past my windows, gently swaying in the breeze.
The house was quiet.
So quiet it made me sad from the moment I woke up, remembering that I was still here alone. Why did being alone have to feel so fucking empty? Introverts all over the world would relish this—a peaceful house, all to myself, after waking up from a nap.
But all I could think about was this morning. Seeing an article that ripped open every wound I still had about not being able to live up to Minton Ranch’s legacy. I knew I wasn’t doing anything right in the past year—but why did that have to be exposed for all of Bestens to read over their goddamn morning coffee?
I pulled in a breath, trying to push the memory of it away, all over again.
I was out in the summer air a minute later, carrots in hand as I slipped into my boots. The distant smell of hay carried through the air, and I slowly ambled down the path toward the horses. Finn had been over early in the morning at six to do the morning rounds, but now more than ever, I just wanted some company.
“Hey, girl,” I said as I opened the latch on the stable gate, going in to find Pippa at the front of her pen, happy and wagging. She was already anticipating the carrots. I gave her a couple before heading on down to Hopper, Maisie, and Chomp, refreshing their water as needed.
Maybe the dumb article was right. It was true that in the last year, I’d barely taught riding at all, and in the last few months it had been next to nothing.
But I missed teaching every single day.
The last few clients I’d had, I’d almost broken down a couple of times, thinking of how different everything would have been if Dad was there. He was the best at getting people to be comfortable on a horse for the first time. He never rushed anything. I was a good teacher, but I was nothing like him.