Page 28 of Sawyer

I’m not sure a man like that actually exists. I have yet to meet one. My girlfriends and I all dealt with the same issue in our marriages, how we felt like we didn’t get nearly enough help from our husbands. I used to joke that I was a single married mom because I did literally everything. The nighttime wake-ups, the cooking, the cleaning, the scheduling. When I got pregnant, I told people I’d left the barrel racing circuit because I was ready to retire. But really, it was because I struggled so mightily to juggle my career and my pregnancy that something had to give.

That something was the job I loved. I was a damn good racer, and I’ve missed it. A lot. It’s one of the many reasons I’m thrilled to have landed this new gig at the Wallace Ranch. I truly can’t wait to start, even if I feel more than a little anxiety. Pardon the pun, but so much is riding on me doing well at the Wallace Ranch. I get child support and alimony from Dan, but it’s not enough to live on. I’m rebuilding my savings and retirement from scratch. This job has to work.

I have to succeed if I want to support myself and my daughter. I have big plans for Junie—college, grad school if she wants—and I need money to make those dreams come true.

Taking the wheel in my life after letting someone else drive for far too long has been liberating. I’m finally free, and it feels fucking fantastic.

The thrill of that freedom pounds through my bloodstream as I work my soapy palms over Sawyer’s massive shoulders. My hands move south, smoothing over the firm slopes of muscle that cover his chest and stomach.

“I like that about you,” I breathe, reveling in the way his abdominals clench beneath my touch, “how generous you are with your compliments.”

He grabs my wrist after I draw my fingertips over his nipple. “Generous, huh?”

The water is a smidge too hot. Or maybe that’s the way he’s looking down at me, something like adoration in his eyes as he guides my hand to his dick.

“In every sense of the word.”

He’s not hard, but his velvety warmth still fills my hand. His eyelids go heavy as I gently stroke him with slippery fingers. I’m not trying to get him worked up. I’m just exploring, touching.

This manlovesto be touched, and I love how much he clearly appreciates it.

I love how wild his confidence in me makes me feel. He’s a filthy talker. What other fun, filthy things would he be into?

What other things amIinto? I suddenly want to explore that, too.

His lips part. Water droplets catch on his eyelashes. “You keep playin’ with me this way, I ain’t ever lettin’ you leave.”

“Remember, we have not one, but two boxes of condoms to get through,” I say, parroting his line back to him. I cup his balls, gently kneading them. I put my other hand on his shoulder, my fingertips toying with his neck. “I could stay a while, sure.”

He groans. “Better get to it then, huh?”

“You in a rush?”

“No.” Searching my eyes, he loops his arms around my waist and crosses his wrists at the small of my back. His long, broad fingers tickle my ass. “And yes. How long you gonna let me have you?”

I grin, leaning in to kiss his mouth at the same time I thumb his tip. “Tonight is all we got, cowboy. Let’s make it count.”

CHAPTER8

Sawyer

PUBLIC INDECENCY

I’m wrappingAva in a towel when she spots the speaker on the vanity beside the sink.

Her eyes light up. “Perfect! Here, lemme get my phone and I’ll put something on. Any requests?”

“Surprise me.” I grab a towel and dry myself off before knotting it at my waist.

Ava ducks into the bedroom, clutching her towel to her chest. I glance in the mirror above the sink and blink at my reflection.

Something’s different. My eyes, maybe? My hair is a fucking disaster, but that’s nothing new. I’ve always had too much of it, a thick mop that Mom used to love ruffling with her fingers when I was little.

My handsome boy, she’d say.

Even now, almost thirteen years after she passed in a car accident, I feel that sense of love, of being cherished, that her touch provided.

And even now, the memory of it makes my chest cramp.

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