Page 95 of Ride the Sky

I tense, open my eyes. That asshole’s been giving her hope. I swear if that bastard crushes her dreams, I’ll kill him myself.

“You think…” Fallon begins, sounds unsure and soft. “You think he still wants me?”

“He’d be a fool not to,” I say and turn over my shoulder to look at her.

Her eyes are wide for a moment before she blinks and smiles slightly.

“You rode perfect today,” I murmur, keeping my eyes on her gorgeous face.

She levels me with a cool glance. “Because of you.”

Shock slams into me. This fucking woman keeps surprising me, keeps putting me on my ass.

Fallon scowls. “Close your mouth, asshole.”

I let out a soft laugh and face forward. “Not used to compliments.” Once more, her fingers spear into my hair. I groan, my cock flaring against the zipper of my jeans.

I snap, reaching back and capturing Fallon’s wrist. Slowly, I draw her forward until our gazes clash. “You keep touchin’ me like that, Trouble, that’s exactly what we’re gonna have.”

Her eyes narrow in a challenge. “Is that a threat?”

I sit her on my lap. My cock flexes at her heat. “Baby, it’s a promise.”

Fallon’s smile’s nothing short of mischievous as she says, “If you want trouble, I have an idea.”

“What?”

She bites that luscious lower lip of hers. “Whiskey. The hot tub out back.” She offers a casual shrug, though her voice is anything but. “Could give our muscles a good long soak.”

“Hell, I’ll start dinner.” My cock’s at a full-throttle salute.

Her eyebrow arches. “I’ll get us some beers.” Her full lips pull into a wide grin as she slips off my lap. I watch her limp to the counter, those gorgeous hips swaying, feeling like my stupid heart’s about to fuckin’ burst.

Tonight.

Whatever happens between us, it’s tonight.

The water gleams like a silver reflection, so bright by the light of the moon overhead. The hot tub bubbles in the warm summer evening. Fallon appears with a bottle of whiskey. She wears a little black bikini tied together with strings that look like they could snap any second. Her caramel-blonde hair is unbound and wild, draped over one shoulder. Her body is tan and muscled, tattooed and flawless.

My mouth goes dry. My cock jerks with want. She looks like a fallen, defiant angel. Sexy and feral.

As she limps toward me, her hand drifts self-consciously to the scar on her stomach before falling to her side.

I press off the back of the house, shamelessly staring at her ass in those tiny bikini bottoms. “Let me help you in.”

She frowns but obeys. As she grips my hand, I don’t miss the way her gaze lowers to my bare chest. Her appreciative eyes on me pushes a surge of blood to my cock.

Carefully, I help her into the hot tub, making sure she’s settled and comfortable before I slip into the water across from her.

“Ugh,” she says as she relaxes on a seat. She flashes the bottle of whiskey. On the label in gold foiling,Weston Whiskey. “Can’t escape him.” Then, giving a little shrug, she says, “Bottom’s up,” and takes a long pull.

“How is it?” I ask.

She coughs then grins. “Gotta admit, fucker makes fantastic whiskey.”

I lean in as she passes me the bottle then take a swig myself.

We sit barely four feet apart in the small square space. Almost touching, but not quite.

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