Page 96 of Ride the Sky

Fallon tilts her head back to the moon and sighs.

I examine the sharp lines of her face. Serene and exhausted, but confident. “You’re tired.”

“I am. But it feels good.”

My gaze falls to her breasts, her beaded nipples, and my groin tightens. What I wouldn’t give to undo one of those strings around her neck.

Taking a steadying breath, I say, “You’ll be back on a horse in no time.”

“Liar.” She purses her lips, her expression agitated. “My hip’s fucked.”

“No lie.” I pass her the whiskey. “I’m always honest with you, Trouble.”

She considers this, drinks from the bottle, breathes out. “That’s true. You have always told me the truth.”

“So let’s tell it, then. Tonight.”

Interest flickers in her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I mean a game. Truth or dare. Just truth.”

She stares out at her dark backyard. “Games always get us.”

They do. There are multiple instances of us losing our tempers over pool, Fallon hurling my car keys into the grass after losing at darts.

“What else do we have to do but fight?”

I study her as she studies me. My cock throbs. She’s too fucking beautiful, having a goddamn stare-down with me because she’s so fucking stubborn.

Her lashes lower. “Okay,” she agrees. Another swig of whiskey, and then she passes it back. “No half-ass answers either.”

“All in,” I drawl.

“And I go first,” she says, lifting a challenging brow.

This should be fun.

“Sheena,” she says, crossing her arms, contempt in her eyes. “Did you fuck her?”

I exhale, pained. Damn. No wind up. Straight to the fucking point. But it’s what I deserve. It’s been a long time coming.

This time, it’s my turn to drink. “I never fucked Sheena,” I tell her, breathing through the whiskey burn. “Not once.”

I keep my eyes on her placid face, so she knows, so she really fucking hears me. She has to.

Tonight, all my cards on the table. My whole heart.

Fallon remains tense as a snake, poised to strike.

“But I used her,” I continue. “I wanted to make you jealous.”

Her nostrils flare.

“My turn,” I say, handing her the bottle. “Aiden. Why him?”

“Why not?” When I stare at her, she sighs. “Aiden was just different enough to be interesting. He wasn’t a cowboy. He wasn’t—”

“What?” I ask sharply.

---