Page 115 of Riding the High

“Ginger. I love you. Ihaveloved you for so goddamn long,” I tell her without thought as I fuck into her perfect pussy on my desk.Myperfect pussy. Her nails digging into my skin and her silent cries of pleasure tell me that the tight wrap of my hand around the slender column of her throat is what she craves. Just as it is for me, this moment is exactly what she needs.

My lips come down on hers and everything turns hazy around us as I fuck her.

“I love you, Cole. You’re the only man I’ve ever loved,” she says between kisses, and I’m free-falling, spilling into her hard and fast. I growl her name into her lips as my cock empties, fighting to stay in the moment as I come, because we’re so in sync, so perfect and, right now, I know there isn’t a hurdle I can’t overcome with her by my side. My movements become sloppy and uncoordinated as my cock jerks inside her. Her breathing slows as she pulls my face down to kiss me once more.

When we’re spent, I lean back, collapsing in my chair. She falls with me, right into my lap.

“Everything or nothing equals you taking me like a caveman on your desk?” she asks with a giggle.

“Yes, because I fucking can’t resist you,” I say as I stroke her hair. She nuzzles her head in the space between my collarbone and my jaw.

“Youloveme,” she says, and I feel her smug smirk against my bare skin.

“I do.” Goddamn, it feels good to say it out loud. Did I picture myself balls deep inside of her when I envisioned the moment I told her I loved her? Definitely not.

I’ll give her as many soft, romantic moments she needs. I’ll spend the rest of my life giving her those, butthatwas something more. Something animalistic I had no hope of controlling.

I kiss her head.

“I’ve wanted to tell you this for weeks,” I say. “I don’t want you to leave at the end of the summer, Ginger. I want you to stay, but I can’taskyou to stay. Us together … with Mabes. This is a lot for you …”

She tilts her head up to me, her eyes questioning.

So I continue. “Taking on the role of being a wife and partner is one thing. But a stepmother? A role model for a child that isn’t yours? That’s a totally different—”

She silences me with a kiss.

“Stop right there, Mr. Ashby,” she says. “We can talk about the semantics later. But if you think for one second I went into this casually, not realizing that you and Mabel are a package deal? You’re dead wrong. I love everything about that little girl. And besides, we’re a team. Remember?” She grins. “You don’thaveto ask me. I volunteer. I know exactly what it means to love you, Cole. I think on some level I’ve always loved you. And I want itall. Every last piece. Especially Mabel.”

I kiss her lips, not wanting to come up for air, because I’ve never felt happiness like this before. I never thought it was possible. It’s overwhelming. This isn’t just my happiness; it’s Mabel’s too. Because she deserves someone like Ginger in her life.

I let my mouth stake its claim on my wife, reveling in my newfound wholeness, until a cold shiver runs the length of my spine as I remember why she’s here today.

I sigh as I plant a kiss on her forehead.

“You were right to come here today. We do need to talk about something,” I say to her.

“I gathered,” she replies, rising, seemingly unconcerned as she pulls her shirt back over her head while I disappear into my private bathroom for a cloth to clean her up.

“Brent Wilson found me last night at your father’s reception,” I tell her as I wipe her down. Her eyes meet mine as if to ask me why that matters.

“He knows about us. He called you my wife,” I say.

Just that word has more meaning now that I’ve told her how I really feel about her. Our marriage no longer feels temporary. She’s my wife and, as crazy as it seems after only a couple of months, that’s how it’s going to stay. Even if she doesn’t know it yet.

Her mouth falls slack for all of ten seconds, and then her mind is working.

“How?” she asks.

“I don’t know,” I admit. “But he’s demanding I step down as sheriff or he’ll tell the public. And I’m racking my brain trying to come up with an option three where I don’t have to do either.”

I tell her all the details I can and, by the time she’s dressed and we’re sitting across from each other at the desk, my beautiful spitfire of a wife is wearing an emotion I rarely see: anger.

“I think he had me followed,” I tell her. “There’s no other way. There’s no documentation of this marriage.”

A thought occurs to me. “Other than the certificate, which should be here anytime. I remember they said it would take eight to ten weeks, but I haven’t seen it yet—”

Ginger’s eyes move to mine and she holds her finger up to stop me from speaking.

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