Page 68 of That Moment
She blinks, the shift hitting her just as hard. “Right.” Her hand tightens around the brush handle. “I should… probably call it a night soon.”
“Yeah,” I say, keeping my voice neutral. “Guess we both should.”
She sets the brush on the rail, running her fingers through her hair. “Thanks for letting me help. I forgot how good it feels, ya know? The physical release.”
That earns a half-smile from me. “Yeah. You did well, Barbie.”
“Careful,” she teases, eyes flicking up. “Say that again and I might start showing up more often.”
“Wouldn’t be the worst thing,” I admit, barely above a whisper.
The words hang there between us, heavy, charged, neither of us willing to move first. Outside, the night hums low with the familiar crickets, the far-off roll of thunder building somewhere past the ridge. The air smells like rain.
She watches me for a long beat, searching my face for something I’m not sure I can give her right now. I don’t say another word, but I can feel it, everything I’m not ready to admit simmering just beneath my skin.
The storm cracks again, closer this time, a low growl rolling through the mountains.
Adrienne’s gaze flicks toward the open barn doors, then back to me. “Looks like the rain’s coming.”
“Yeah.” My voice comes out rough. Neither of us moves to close the doors.
So I step closer to her, the pull too much to resist. I don’t say anything, just move toward her until our lips are touching, our mouths instantly moving against each other.
“Scotty, I need to go.” She insists, though her body is saying the exact opposite.
“Tell me I’m what you want,” I confess, drunk on her kiss. “At least for tonight.” The storm cracks again, closer. She looks at the doors, then at me. I step in anyway, kiss her like I’ve already picked a side.
“Tell me I’m not the mistake you’re bracing for,” I breathe against her mouth. Rain hits the roof. She swallows. The mares shift. And for a second, I swear I can feel the whole barn hold its breath.
Chapter 11
Adrienne
“Don’t do that,” I whisper.
“Do what?”
“Make it easy to pretend.”
He should step away. He doesn’t. The brim of his hat shadows his eyes. My pulse gallops. I reach up, curl a fist in his T-shirt, and kiss him again.
He catches me like he was ready. The kiss starts soft, then he answers the way he always does when I stop being careful: deeper, hungrier, like he’s no longer able to hold back.
I break just enough to breathe. “Why’d you ask me that?” My mouth skims his, the words ghosting his lips. “Back there—what do you want this to be? Why ask me that now?”
He doesn’t give me the space I’m pretending to want. He palms my hip, tugging me flush. “Because,” he says against my mouth, voice rough, “I can’t stop thinking about the sounds you made when I was inside you. The way your pussy clenched around my cock.”
The barn tilts. Heat floods me so fast I forget my name for a second. His thumb presses into my hip. He kisses down my throat, finding that place that makes my knees weak, and I hatehow easy it is to melt for him. Because I know what he’s doing, he’s answering without answering. Deflecting with sex.
He walks me backward until my shoulders kiss the plank wall. His knee is between my thighs, pressing against me, driving me wild.
“Mm?” He’s already there with his mouth, the scrape of stubble chasing his kiss. “Gonna let me distract you, Barbie?”
“I need a shower,” I manage, though my fingers are busy betraying me, sliding under the hem of his shirt to find skin.
He laughs low, lips at my throat, the sound a sin I want to commit twice. “Then I’ll take you inside and clean you up myself.”
Fuck me, that’s what I want. His hands are on my waist. My back against tile. It short-circuits something in me, and the frustration that’s been riding under the wanting flares back to life. I plant my palms on his chest and push.
