Page 81 of Chasing Home

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Page 81 of Chasing Home

I want him, and if he knew that . . . would he take me right now, as I am? No questions asked?

By the time I’m looking into his eyes, my skin has grown hot and sensitive. My clothes feel too tight over my body, and as the light blue of his eyes grows more intense, I debate asking him to take them off me.

“You’ll give me a complex looking at me like that, darlin’,” he murmurs, the thick lines of his throat working with a swallow.

“How am I looking at you?”

“Like you want me to work your tight fuckin’ jeans down your thighs and bury my face between them. Just say the word, and I’ll dive deep without giving a shit about coming up for air.”

My entire body shivers at the promise in the gravelly words. “Do that, then.”

“Not yet.”

“Why?” I croak, a blast of cold ripping through the heat of the haze wrapped around my mind.

He takes my hand and tugs me closer to him before settling my palm over the large bulge in his jeans. I grip it on instinct and get rewarded by a tight-lipped hiss and slight thrust.

“You want to be taken in a stable, baby? I’ll take you in a fuckin’ stable so many times you’ll feel the ghost of me buried deep the moment you walk inside of one. But not the first time. If you knew how many times I’ve dreamed of licking your pussy or sliding my cock inside of you, you’d never question how badly I want you. But I’m waitin’, and I’m patient. I’m going to have you splayed out for me and your cum on my tongue tonight, but not yet. Not here. Okay?”

I drop a hand to Frost’s side to keep myself upright as the weight of his words settles. The guttural promises that he’s made and the way each one has cranked up the dial on the desire I feel.

Again, he touches my face, stroking my skin so delicately it’s like he fears it’ll crumble and blow away like ash if he’s too rough.

“If not here, then where?” I ask, unashamed with how desperate I sound.

Fuck it all to hell, but I don’t care.

“Do you trust me?” he asks, the words hardly more than a fan of breath across my face.

It should take me longer to answer him. To debate on whether or not I do. But there’s no need for debate.

“Yes.”

The joy that lights up his face right then is every reason as to why I do.

It’s hard to concentrate as Frost and I trot alongside Johnny and Joker, the pace slow and steady. I should be grateful for that, considering how raw the inside of my thighs feel from the slap of them against Frost’s sides and how every time I sway side to side, the pulse of pain in my lower back grows in intensity.

Yet, slow and steady is the last thing I want right now.

There’s never been a time in my life where I’ve been as physically attracted to a man as I am right now, staring across the small space between Frost and Joker at Johnny.

Spine straight as an arrow, cowboy hat resting easy on his head, and those strong, veiny hands wrapped loosely around Joker’s reins, he looks like a wet dream straight out of a cowboy movie. The ease and confidence with which he rides his horse, commanding her without force or sharp words, has the heat between my legs transforming into an inferno. I ache everywhere, and not from the riding.

The tension between us stretches, keeping us both trapped within it. I’ve kept silent as we rode off the ranch and into the ditch beside the highway, each clop of hooves sounding like a tick of a clock. Johnny knows exactly what I’m thinking about and hasn’t stopped grinning since he helped me up on Frost and saddled up Joker.

I don’t recognize where we are. Not because it’s dark but because I’ve never ventured out this way. Unless I’m at the ranch, I don’t leave town. I want to pay more attention to my surroundings, but I can’t fucking focus on anything but Johnny.

“We’re almost there,” he says, as if sensing how close I am to losing my ever-loving mind. “How are you feeling?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

“Yeah, I think I do.”

I scowl. “Too bad.”

He laughs in answer, the deep, rumbling sound of it making my toes curl in my sneakers. I want to press my palm to his chest and feel that rumble work its way up my arm.

“Did you ever make wishes on shooting stars when you were a kid?” he asks.




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