“I don’t know what her needs are and what her wants are, and I don’t know if it matters,” I whisper. “I just know I want you, and I feel like I shouldn’t, even though it’s also the most natural thing in the world to like someone who gets it.”
His head swivels back until he’s looking at me. And then his lips curve up in a naughty, dirty, promising smile. “So maybe we just fuck for a while.”
That should not make my vagina sit up and cheer. Or my brain short-circuit with lust. Or my panties go so wet that I can smell my own arousal.
“You know there’s no such thing as working someone out of your system,” I whisper.
He angles closer, our bodies separated by the width of a feather, and yes yes yes, I want him closer, but no no no, I’ve made a thousand excuses to my daughter about why I won’t do this no matter how much I want to.
My brain is so scrambled anytime I’m near him. And as much as my heart and brain whisper Junie first, sometimes they also ask, Who do you become when you never put yourself first?
I did that with Dean.
He was first, and what did I become?
But I’m responsible for Junie. She’s my daughter.
Where do her wants end and my needs begin? Or are they her needs and my wants?
I don’t know.
“I can’t in good conscience say that we should test that theory, but God, do I want to,” he says.
Yes yes yes, my clit is chanting. My nipples are hard and aching, and I can’t remember the last time a man looking at me made me this hot and wet.
Yet here we are, and it’s taking every ounce of self-control I possess and more to not jump him. “And I can’t in good conscience say that you would have to be terrible in bed for us to prove that theory wrong, and I have to warn you, novelty turns me on. So you’d have to be extra bad.”
“I could be fast. Right now, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t last three seconds in your hot, wet pussy.”
The idea that he’d be done before we even started should be a turnoff.
Instead, the idea of my own raw sexual power making him lose control and talk dirty to me is making my breath come in small gasps, and I very, very much want to slip my hand into my pants and finger-fuck myself.
“That would be very disappointing,” I manage to choke out.
“I’m very clumsy with my fingers too.”
One, he’s lying. Two, yes. Yes, I’d very much like to feel his hands and his fingers on my body. Stroking my breasts. Pinching my nipples. Teasing my clit. Thrusting in my vagina.
Making me come.
Over. And over. And over again.
“If we do this—” I start.
His eyes flare wide for a hot second, and then his pupils dilate, until I feel like I could see the universe in their depths if I looked closely enough. His hand moves to my waist, and then I’m backed against the chipped green countertop. “If we do this?” he prompts.
His erection is pressing against my lower belly, and that is not where I want it.
I want it lower.
Between my thighs.
“If we do this”—I repeat, arching my hips into him and making him swear out a soft oath—“it’s one time only. When Junie isn’t here. There’s no dinner. There’s no talking. There’s no staying. There’s no acknowledging this ever happened in public.”
His fingers are digging into my hips while we rock our bodies against each other through the clothes. “Agreed.”
“And you have to leave. Now. Before Junie sees you out here.”
“Maisey—”
“Now.”
“Are you going to blow me off?” His rough question hits a spot in my heart that’s ached entirely too much in the past year or so. Usually that part only activates for Junie, but here it is, wanting to hug a man who’s dry humping me in a run-down bunkhouse.
“Maybe.”
“Maisey—”
“Maybe.” My bra is too tight. I can’t get enough air. And I don’t want enough air. I want him to touch me and make me feel good and lose my mind. “I won’t lie to you. I’m turned on and ready and willing and I cannot do this while my daughter is home. I can’t. I shouldn’t do it at all, and I’m honest-to-God afraid I’ll hate myself for giving in, but I want you. I want you, but I promised her stability, and I won’t—I can’t—”
He cuts me off with another of those searing kisses that I feel from my lips to my toes.
I don’t know if he’s trying to stifle my I can’ts or if he’s turned on by me being ridiculously overprotective of my close-to-grown daughter.
I just know when he grips my hair and tilts my head back and thrusts his tongue in my mouth while he’s rocking his hard cock against my pubic bone, I want to strip myself naked and ask him to feast on my pussy the way he’s feasting on my mouth.
I want him to be rough.
I want him to be thorough.
I want him to eat me like he’s starving and only every last drop of my climax will satisfy him.
I whimper as I kiss him back, clutching his shoulders, trying to push myself up onto the counter so I can spread my legs and rub my clit against his hard, thick length.
Not enough.
Not nearly enough.
He breaks out of the kiss with another Fuck me, I want you.
I can’t catch my breath.
And when I look up into his dark, hooded, slightly unfocused eyes—
Oh God.
I’m in so much trouble.
Junie first, I remind myself. Junie first. I can’t do this.
She’s not here, silky-smooth temptation whispers back. One romp in the sheets when you know it’s a one-time thing to work an emotionally unavailable man out of your system will not hurt her.
Is my libido lying to me?
Or can it be as simple as having sex with a man to scratch an itch and let it go at that?
“Name the day. School day. I’ll take off. Personal day. While June’s in school.” He’s panting as hard as I am. “We’ll fuck. We’ll feel good. We’ll go our separate ways.”
Yes. This is how he operates. Everyone knows it. This is safe.
It’s a one-time thing.
No emotions.
Just physical sensations.
“I’ll email you,” I gasp.
“Text it.”
“Okay.”
He grips me by the chin and kisses me again, but instead of hard and fast and deep, he softly brushes his lips over mine, then sucks ever so gently at my bottom lip. “Text me soon,” he says.
And then he’s gone, striding out of the bunkhouse like he doesn’t have a steel pipe in his pants, he’s not struggling to breathe, and he can see straight.
I can barely make it to the bunkhouse bathroom to unzip my jeans, slide my hand into my panties, and work out all the built-up tension.
I wonder if he’s headed home to go rip his pants off and stroke himself too.
Nope.
Nope nope nope.
Not thinking about that.
This thing between us?
Passing infatuation.
I have to let it go.
Not just because I told Junie I wasn’t dating.
I have to let it go for me too. When she leaves, I want to stay here. I want to have a home. I want to see if this ranch can give me a greater purpose. And I don’t want ghosts haunting me.