Page 81 of Ride Me Cowboy

“Meet me at the truck,” I say, and she nods, quickly. I walk away from her and only the fact I’m gonna see her again real soon stops me from turning back and dragging her into my arms, to hell with who sees. I made Beth mine last night, and for my part, I don’t give a shit who knows it. We’re two consenting adults, what we do is our own business, no one else’s.

But Beth doesn’t want that, and I have to respect her wishes, so I stalk out of the house, just biding my time until I see her bathed in moonlight, walking quickly across the gravel. It crunches softly underfoot, and when she reaches me, she smiles. Her hands are trembling a little when she waves one in greeting. I hold the front passenger door open, and inhale her sweet scent as she sits down. Before she can do the belt herself, I come around and grab it, fastening it across her and clicking it into place. I keep my face close to hers, enjoying the way her breath speeds up, brushes against me, warm and frantic.

“I can’t wait to have you again,” I say, reaching my hand between her legs and brushing her sex.

She moans softly in the cab of my truck.

“I’ve been thinking about you on your knees all day, naked this time, all mine to see, to feel.”

She swallows audibly.

“You want that, baby?”

She nods, and again, I think it’s cause she’s having a hard time getting words out.

“What else do you want?”

I love hearing her talk.

“I…want to feel you,” she says, eyes sweeping shut. “I want to feel you right at the back of my throat. I want to taste you.”

My body shudders at what she’s promising, and I have no concept of how I don’t unbuckle her seatbelt and get this happening right here. But we need privacy, and fast.

“Okay then, let’s make it happen,” I say with a calm I don’t feel, shutting her door gently before climbing into the driver side and starting the engine.

But Beth, sweet Beth, doesn’t want to wait. As I pull away from the ranch house, she reaches over and undoes my jeans, her eyes on my face, her lips parted. Her hand reaches around my cock, freeing it from my shorts, squeezing it in her palm, so I snap my head toward her, cursing under my breath.

“Beth,” my voice is a growl. “We’re not gonna make it where we’re going if you do that.”

“We just have to make it away from the house, right?”

“Far enough away that no one can hear you scream.”

She looks over her shoulder. “I think this about does it.”

And then, she undoes her seatbelt and leans down, taking me deep in her mouth, head in my lap, so I swear again and pull the car to a stop, killing the headlights so no one in the house has a view of us if they happen to look out.

I breathe her name into the car as I press my head back against the seat, staring straight out at the night sky, wondering just how I got so lucky to have Beth Tasker swan into my life—refusing to think about the fact she’s going to leave it again in a short couple of months.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Beth

FOR THE FIRST FEW days, I upload content without making much of a splash—which is to be expected. I spend hours trawling hashtags and get the Ranch social media account following a heap of brands associated with farming, as well as other accounts like I’m hoping theirs will be, commenting on the posts. It’s time consuming, tedious work, and I find myself zoning out and staring toward the ranch, wishing I were out there, feeling the sun on my skin, smelling the air the way it is out here—with trees and horses and sunshine heavy in it. Wishing I was with Cole, who seems to have taken over all of my senses and refuses to let go.

I’m so distracted by the work I’m doing on the social media account building that I almost completely miss Christopher’s mother’s birthday. It’s almost dinner before I finally remember to send her a message, knowing it’s the bare minimum she’ll expect and that I should deliver.

Anna, thinking of you, as you mark another year, your first without your son. I know you’re missing him particularly today. Sending you love, Beth.

My throat thickens as I send it, and unexpectedly, tears fill my eyes. I blink at them quickly, but the grief remains, heavy in my heart. Christopher wasn’t just my husband—an awful, horrible man to me. To them, he was their son, and they loved him. I know how much they’re grieving him.

I wish I could give them what they want, but I did enough of that during Christopher’s life. I spent three and a half years pretending to be the perfect upper East side wife, even when I was breaking inside, sometimes quite literally. I was a master of hiding bruises, of learning how not to flinch when he touched me in public. I wrapped all my own feelings up and buried them deep down for so long it became habit.

Now, I’m starting to feel again, to be true to myself, and as much as staying away from my former in-laws makes me feel guilty, and hurts them, I know it’s right, at the same time.

My phone buzzes with her reply.

Thank you, darling. It’s been surreal. I’ve just had a Valium—Winston insisted—but let’s talk in the next few days. We all miss you. A.xx

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