Page 94 of Ride the Sky

I dig the heel of my palm into the side of her hip, massage tight, knotted muscle.

Her voice rises in pitch. “What’re you doin’?”

“Loosening you up.” I look up at her, redirecting my eyes from her thin white tank top, her hard nipples, to her confused face. “Your hip isn’t letting you grip the barrel like it should.”

“I have PT for that.”

“You have me,” I grunt. My fingers must spear a sensitive area, because Fallon whimpers. Her leg trembles. My groin tightens.

“Wyatt,” she gasps, her fingertips sweeping into my hair. Her body arches into mine.

My heart jolts, my cock’s hard as steel. Christ, I want to fuck her. Here, recklessly, roughly, anywhere she’ll have me. Make her scream, make her cry my name. This woman who has me fucking obsessed.

I dig in harder, giving one last knead of muscle, then straighten and scan her stunning face. Pink cheeks. “Feel better?”

She flicks her eyes to me then lowers her dark lashes. “Yes.”

Without words, we turn toward the gate that leads to the cottage. I wrap my arm around her waist and let her use me as a crutch. We slow to a stop when we reach the screen door.

“Goddammit,” she swears.

I scowl. Next to her walker, more roses. Another card.

Despite wanting to incinerate them on the spot, I hand her the flowers. “What does it say?”

Cradling the bouquet in her arms, she flips the card over.

I miss watching you in the ring.

Fallon wrinkles her nose. “God, this asshole again.”

It pisses me off. Some asshole bothering Fallon. Especially after what she’s been through. I don’t like it. Fucking hate it, in fact. Because if anyone is going to get her flowers, it’s me.

“Let’s go inside,” I say, opening the screen door. As she heads in, I glance toward the empty street.

No one around. The setting sun a bright beam of light. Suddenly, all I want to do is lock her in the house and stand guard. The thought of someone walking up to Fallon’s cottage and leaving her things unnerves me.

I head inside after Fallon. She’s at the kitchen counter, walker beside her. Roses in the trash. Country music plays on the radio. A summer breeze drifts through the windows.

Damn near perfect. Fallon’s cottage isn’t mine, but somehow it feels like home.

Living together, being in close quarters, sleeping together, is more than I can take. I have to figure this out. What’s between us, if anything. Because the hard truth is, for me, divorce isn’t an option. And eight weeks will be up too goddamn soon for my liking.

On a groan, I collapse in a chair at the kitchen table and roll my neck out. “I can grill tonight,” I say. Steaks. Potatoes. Beers. After the day we had, all I want is a front porch and Fallon.

I startle when light hands settle on my shoulders. Fallon’s husky voice sounds. “You’ve been working too hard.”

I tip my head back to give her a grin. “Training you and the kids ain’t for the fainthearted.” I groan as the pressure increases. Feels like fucking heaven. “What are you doin’?”

“Returning the favor,” she says with a casual shrug. “Least I can do.” A smile stains her voice. “You’re more out of shape than me.”

I snort then relax into Fallon’s touch. She kneads my muscles, shoulders, and I’m putty in her palms.

“Feel good?” she murmurs.

“Yeah.” I whimper as she runs her hands up the back of my neck into my hair. Her graceful touch does something insane to my pulse.

“Pappy texted me,” Fallon says. “Said he might stop by next week.”

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