Page 120 of Broken Trails
“You’ve got time,” I murmur. “No rush.” She nods a little but doesn’t say anything. I let it hang there for a moment longer, fingers tracing idle patterns across her hip. Then, because I want to shift the weight in the room, or maybe because I want to see her smile again, I say, “By the way… the race is this weekend.”
That gets her attention.
She props herself up on one elbow, brows raised. “The motorbike one?”
“No, the sack race at The Loose Lasso. Thought I’d give it a go, maybe impress a few people with my stamina.”
She snorts. “You’re such an idiot.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
But she’s smiling now, and fuck, it’s a good look on her. Even with tired eyes and yesterday’s makeup smudged under her lashes.
“Wait,” she says, narrowing her eyes. “Is this the same race as last time?”
I stretch out on my back again, arms behind my head. “Similar. But this one’s bigger. There’s a cash prize. Sponsors.”
Her brow arches. “Look at you. Wattle Creek’s very own revhead heartthrob.”
“Been that for years,” I say casually. “I just keep the fan club small.”
“You’re unbelievable,” she laughs, shaking her head as she settles back beside me.
“Mm.” I smirk. “Still can’t stay away though, can you?”
She glances over at me, eyes narrowing with faux judgement. “Don’t get too cocky, Hotshot.”
I grin, shifting just enough for her to feel my hardening cock against her hip. “Bit late for that. Can’t help it when I wake up next to you lookin’ like this.”
Her breath catches, and yeah, I feel it—the way she stiffens just slightly, then melts right back into me like her body’s already made the decision her mouth hasn’t. Zoe hums softly, but her body shifts again, just slightly. And yeah, I notice. I always notice.
“You’re humming again,” I mutter, dragging my hand down the curve of her stomach.
“Don’t start,” she warns, but her voice is already trembling.
Too late.
I slide my hand between her thighs, parting them, and press two fingers right where she’s already wet and warm and perfect.
“Fuck, Michael—”
Her words die out as I rub slow circles over her clit, watching her lashes flutter and her mouth part around a breath she can’t quite catch. Her hips rock into my hand, and her fingers curl into the sheets like she’s seconds from breaking. She gasps when I press my fingers in deeper.
One minute she’s quiet, then she’s gasping. Gripping my arm. She comes around my fingers with a muffled cry as her whole body trembles.
“I’m surprised I could go again,” she whispers, voice frayed and breathless.
I kiss her temple. “Told you I’m good with my hands.”
Zoe rolls her eyes at that, trying to act annoyed, but she slumps against the mattress, completely undone, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She shifts slightly, like she’s trying to roll awayfrom me, tuck the mess of her hair into the pillow, and pretend she didn’t just come apart in my hands. Again.
“You’re not getting away from me yet,” I mumble into her hair.
“I’m exhausted,” she cries, even as she melts into me.
“Exactly,” I say, hooking my leg over hers. “Cuddle me.”
She laughs softly, the sound already fading as her eyes start to drift shut. I feel the exact moment her body goes slack, the moment her breathing deepens. And I stay like that, holding her, fighting sleep, and trying not to think about how badly I don’t want this to end.
