Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 21744 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 109(@200wpm)___ 87(@250wpm)___ 72(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21744 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 109(@200wpm)___ 87(@250wpm)___ 72(@300wpm)
After, I collapse on top of her, careful not to crush her, and bury my face in her neck. My whole body shakes like I just ran a marathon.
“Are you okay?” I mumble against her soft skin.
She squeezes me tight, like she’s never letting go. “Better than okay.”
I roll us so she’s sprawled out on my chest, her cheek pressed over my heart. She sighs, content, and I can’t help but run my hands up and down her back, just feeling the softness of her skin.
“You’re mine now, Sierra,” I whisper.
She hums, lazy and happy. “I like the sound of that.”
I stare up at the ceiling, stunned by how fast my world has changed. But I know, without a doubt, that this is it. She’s my everything now.
I pull the covers over us and close my eyes, still holding her tight. This is just the beginning. I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure she never regrets it.
CHAPTER NINE
SIERRA
One week after my first night with Rogan, I still half-expect to wake up and find this has all been a dream. I stretch awake and find a note sitting on the pillow next to me.
My eyes can barely focus, but I peel it off and squint at the blocky handwriting:
His slightly crooked heart turns my heart to goo, and I smile so hard I nearly split my lips.
I hop out of bed and rush through my morning routine. Then I pull on my softest jeans and a T-shirt with a faded print of a cactus on it. After pulling on my old tennis shoes, I make my way through the quiet house, pausing to inhale the silence. It’s new, this hush. For the first time in years, my life doesn’t feel like it’s running from an invisible threat. Every step is my own. Every day, a choice.
I find Rogan standing by the open door of the stables, dressed in jeans and a soft blue shirt that clings to his arms just so. He sees me and his whole face changes—shoulders loosen, eyes crinkle at the corners, mouth curves in that slow, deliberate smile he uses when he thinks no one is watching. God. I love this man.
“Good morning, Boss man,” I tell him as I walk up to wrap my arms around his waist.
“Good morning, sweetheart.” He glances down at me, and his expression goes serious in a heartbeat. “There’s something I want to show you. Something I’ve never shown anyone else.”
My brain runs wild with possibilities, most of which are NSFW and involve hay bales. But his eyes are soft, almost shy, and it hits me that he’s nervous. Rogan Hawke, the human wall of steel and scowls, is nervous to share something with me.
He turns and gestures for me to follow him into the stable. The inside is nothing like what I’d imagined a barn would be like. For one, it doesn’t smell like horse shit. Instead, it’s a mix of sweet hay, leather, and sawdust, with a faint undercurrent of something clean and sharp.
Stalls line both sides, each one immaculate. The horses inside watch us with solemn, liquid eyes, flicking their ears as we pass.
He stops at the last stall, where a dappled gray mare is already tacked up and looking impossibly majestic for this ungodly hour. “Meet Bluebonnet,” he says, running a hand down her neck. “She’s gentle. Smart as hell. Perfect for your first ride.”
My heart skips. Oh no. I’m not sure I’m ready to ride a horse. “You want me to ride a horse?”
He grins. “You’re going to ride with me.”
He swings open the stall door and leads Bluebonnet out. The horse sidesteps once, then stands perfectly still. Rogan hands me the reins, and I almost drop them, palms suddenly slick with nerves.
He senses it, steps in close. “You’ve really never ridden before?”
“Nope. I’m a horse riding virgin.” I pet Bluebonnet’s nose, and she nudges my shoulder.
He moves behind me and, in one smooth motion, cups my waist with both hands. My entire body goes molten.
“Don’t worry,” he instructs, voice low in my ear. “I’ll take care of you.”
My brain short-circuits at the feel of his hands on my overheated body as he helps me up onto the massive animal’s back.
Rogan steadies me, one hand on my back, the other braced on my thigh. “You okay up there?”
My heart goes full hummingbird as I settle onto the saddle, hands locked on the horn like it’s a lifeline.
He moves to Bluebonnet’s other side, adjusts the stirrups, then looks up at me. “You’re a natural.”
I snort. “If by ‘natural’ you mean ‘could fall off at any moment’ then yes.”
He swings up behind me in one fluid motion, and his chest presses against my back. His arms bracket mine as he takes the reins. He’s so solid and warm, and his scent wraps around me, warming me from the inside out.