Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 86031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
“I’m down with that.” I slide her into a two-step. “I can already taste the tender veal melting in my mouth.”
“Ugh. Have you met Chicken?”
“You mean the spoiled, cow-shaped dog living in the stable?”
“You think she’s adorable. Admit it.”
“The rash is starting to itch.” I swing her into a fast turn, which shuts her up.
For two seconds.
“Do you want to talk about Rogan?” She peers up at me.
I never met my half-brother. Never knew I had one until Maybe came along. I don’t care. Blood-related or not, it’s hard to feel any sense of loss for a con-artist who plotted against the people I love.
But that’s not what she’s asking. She wants to know that she and I are okay, that there are no ill feelings. It matters to her, because she has a big heart, and she’s invested every inch of it in this family.
“We’re good, Maybe.” I guide her around Jarret as he speaks quietly at Raina’s ear.
When my attention returns to the blonde in my arms, I find her studying me, as if probing my expression for the truth.
She came to the ranch as a reporter, but in reality, she was a fashion journalist. Though she doesn’t wear a speck of makeup, she seems to prefer dresses, like the frilly one on her now.
I squint at her. “Do we need to bond over hair braiding and toe painting?”
“Is that on the table?”
“No.”
“Then I’ll be content with more dances.”
Across the porch, Conor transitions into Ride by Chase Rice, and Jake leans into her, breathing the lyrics in a rumbling voice that causes her fingers to miss a chord.
Maybe makes a noise in her throat and lowers her arms. “This is baby-making music.”
Behind her, Conor winks at me and turns back to Jake and her guitar.
With a hand on Maybe’s back, I escort her to Jarret and reach for Raina’s arm.
“I need my girl.” I pull the black-haired beauty against me and spin us toward the stairs.
“Under the stars?” she asks.
“Under me.”
Her lips curl into a sexy smile.
I lead her off the porch, where the overhang doesn’t obstruct our view of the sky.
With my fingertips grazing the silky skin above her waistband, I bring her in tight and sway against her hips, flowing with the rhythm of the acoustic.
I know her hands, and I know where they go. On me. Anywhere. I just want to feel her touch, her pulse, her love.
She gives it to me. A palm resting on the back of my neck. Fingers sifting through my hair. Breaths heating my throat. Heartbeat knocking against mine.
“I hear you,” she whispers.
“I love you, too.”
Her eyes widen slightly as she inhales my declaration and sighs it back against my lips.
On the porch, Jarret and Maybe move in their own whispering dance as Jake and Conor serenade us through one of the most sensual country songs I’ve ever heard.
“You love me.” Raina slides against my body.
“Deeply.” I lick the words from her mouth and trace them to her neck before taking them on a journey across the plump rise of her breasts.
Her eyes stay on me, and her hands join the connection, caressing, gripping, and igniting my blood.
She’s impossible to resist. Her gaze, her skin, her mouth… I devour it all, rolling our hips together, laving my tongue, dragging my fingers, and turning the stars into flames.
Jake continues to sing, his voice growing deep and husky as he drawls out words like hotter, loving, and fucking.
Raina chuckles against my throat. “When did country music start dropping F bombs?”
“This is the dirty version.”
“I bet you think this song’s gonna get you laid.”
“I think…” I kiss her mouth, her jaw, and swirl my tongue around her earlobe. “I’m going to spend so much time inside you in the infinite future that your panties will get wet at the sound of my zipper.”
Her breath catches. “I should probably steal some more panties.”
“A lot of desperate days coming your way.”
“It’ll be hard.” Her hand lowers to my belt, and her fingers splay over my swelling cock. “Feels like it already is, but we’ll work through it.”
We’ll work through it right now. And not while I’m watching my sister get worked up with Jake.
I grab her hand, yank her into the house, and toward our room. It’s a zigzagging trip as I back her against every wall to indulge our hungry lips.
By the time we reach the suite, we’re stumbling in a tangle of arms and tongues and frenzied breaths.
When I close the door, she pushes away from me and walks backward with a wicked twinkle in her eyes.
Her shirt hits the floor. Then her boots. As she reaches back to unclasp the bra, I hiss between my teeth.
I want to slow it down, just for a minute.
“Stop.” I wait for her to obey and remove the phone from my pocket.