Chapter 24

Idon’t go anywhere near Levi for the rest of the day, not wanting to piss him off again. Wiley manages to get the wheelbarrow by letting Kill Dozer into another pasture and blocking him off. He doesn’t tell me how much of an idiot I am, but he does pointedly raise his brows at the now empty wheelbarrow as I wheel it from the pasture I nearly died in. Ninny and the bull had cleaned it out, adding salt to the wound because I still have to take hay to the other pasture in the distance.

“I know, I know,” I grumble at Wiley’s look. “I didn’t realize a bull could be so aggressive. No one said that.”

“He’s named Kill Dozer for a reason,” Wiley had said. “That one should be charged with attempted murder.”

“Kill Dozer,” I repeat. “No one even told me that was his name.” If they had, I might not have gone into the pasture in the first place. “Who did he almost murder?” I ask.

Wiley refuses to answer, only saying it isn’t his story to tell, which only makes me think he means Levi. No one else has such a brutal reaction to the bull. It would make sense since he was a bull rider once and not anymore. But why even have the bull here? It doesn’t make any sense.

But I stopped worrying about it a few days later when Wiley meets me in the morning and explains he’s going to teach me how to ride a horse.

“Why do I need to learn?” I ask curiously as he leads me to the stables.

“First, because everyone who works on a ranch should know how to, spooky cowgirl. Second, because the cattle drive is around the corner. If you come with us, we’ll be riding horses,” he explains.

“You don’t use trucks nowadays?” I ask. Horses seem like a vintage way to do things even if it’s still very cowboy. I suppose I assumed that technology has outpaced tradition but out here, not so much.

“Some ranches do. Some of the others that join us in this drive use side-by-sides rather than horses, and Levi does, but we like to keep things old school as much as we can. We camp out just like the cowboys of old, too. Nowhere better than beneath the stars.”

“That sounds nice,” I murmur, coming up to the horses sticking their heads out for pats. “Which one am I learning on?”

“Oh, you’ll be riding Marey Poppins. She’s the calmest of the mares and is all around an easy ride,” he explains, pointing to a pretty brownish-black mare.

I snort at the name and come over to pet her. I’m starting to get used to the fun names around here but it still surprises me that many of them are named by Dakota. “And which one will you be riding?”

“Oh, Mane of War is mine. Don’t let the name fool you though. He’s as gentle as can be, but he prances like the best war horses,” he says with a grin. “Let me show you how to saddle a horse.”

An hour later, after Wiley shows me how to saddle a horse and then a whole bunch of practice, we’re up on our horses. I’d had to redo my saddle a few times before I got it right, and ultimately, I’m still not confident enough to do it myself, but I feel as if I can learn fast. However, getting settled in the saddle is another thing entirely.

“Marey isn’t a feisty girl. She’ll go where you tell her happily. Just make sure you shift your hips with the movements. Don’t fight them or else you’re gonna be hurting tomorrow,” Wiley warns, climbing onto his own horse and leading the way out of the barn.

Together we ride the horses out past the house and the close pastures, out over the hills. The mountains rise higher around us, like great looming beasts. The fir trees break up some of the scenery but only add to it when we crest hills and take it all in. The mountains might be my favorite part of Steele Mountain. There’s nothing quite like it in New Jersey. It’s so beautiful out here. I could ride along the mountain range for hours.

And we do. We ride the horses out for a few hours, exploring along the pastures, only stopping when we find a good-sized pond. We dismount—Wiley has to help me—and let the horses graze around the pond while we sit on the small dock built on the edge of it. I can see the fish swimming languidly around toward the surface, unconcerned with our presence. It’s not clear by any means but it’s easy to pick them out of the muddy blue.

I lean back on my hands and breathe deep. The air is so much better here, clean, clear. “It’s so beautiful here,” I murmur, enjoying the sunshine on my face.

“You ain’t got mountains where you’re from?” he asks.

I hesitate but figure there’s no harm. There are lots of places without mountains. “No.”

He hums. “You sure do hold your information tightly. I figured you’d trust me by now.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” I counter. “It just won’t do anyone any good to mention it.”

He shrugs. “Keep your secrets, darlin’. I’ve got something else in mind.”

When he stands suddenly, I watch him warily. That is, until he takes his shirt off. Then I watch him a little more intensely. I blink in surprise as he kicks off his boots before tugging his jeans down and leaving only his boxers on.

“Last one in the pond is a rotten egg,” he teases.

“In there?” I ask, eyeing the murky water warily. The horses are happily grazing around us, ignoring our antics.

“Ain’t you ever swam in a pond before?” he asks.

“No,” I admit.

“Well, let me show you how we do it around here then,” he says and then with a “whoop!” he takes off running down the small dock and leaps off the edge. He lands in the water with a big splash that nearly gets me.

I laugh at his antics, giggling as he surfaces and spits water toward me with a grin. The sight of him being so carefree will stick with me forever. It’s maybe the greenest flag I’ve ever seen in a man.

When he reappears at the surface, he grins and gestures for me to follow. “Come on, rotten egg. Live a little.”

I might have said no a few weeks ago, but now, I grin and stand up before pulling my clothing over my head, until I’m standing in only my bra and panties. Then with my own yell of excitement, I run and leap off the edge. I come up sputtering at how cold the water is only to find Wiley howling in excitement and laughing with his full chest. He moves closer, his eyes dancing with laughter, but when they grow heated, the tension between us changes, and I find my own laughter fading away. The tension skyrockets as I tread water, my eyes on the man before me.

When I took off from New Jersey, running from The Crows, I never once thought that I would manage to find a place like this, let alone a man like Wiley. Though there’s been tension between Dakota and I, and though Levi seems to hate my guts, Wiley has been outspoken the entire time. I should be more careful probably. Everything I googled said not to form connections if you’re trying to remain anonymous, but we’re out in the middle of nowhere, on a ranch where no one will think to look for me. Hell, we’re swimming in a murky pond with who knows what swimming around us at the base of the mountains. If that isn’t anonymous, I don’t know what is.

“Why’ve you got that thoughtful look in your eyes?” Wiley says, his voice rough.

I tilt my head toward him, taking in his strong jawline and his bright green eyes. “I was just thinking about what it would be like to kiss you,” I admit.

Something flashes in the green there, and the gentle man I’ve come to know disappears, replaced with something else, something more wild. He eases closer, treading water until I can feel the brush of his hands beneath the surface.

“If you wanted me to kiss you, all you had to do was ask,” he murmurs.

“Thought I just did,” I whisper, reaching up to wrap my arms around his shoulders.

He immediately pulls me against him, encouraging me to wrap my legs around his waist as he holds me up in the water. His large, rough hands span my waist, gripping tightly, holding on for dear life. I let him hold me, let him slowly caress my body. Things with Wiley don’t feel urgent. They don’t feel like I need to crash against him and let him consume me. Wiley feels like a calm summer day, like a creaky porch swing filled with pillows, like the sunshine shining through to warm your legs. Easy. Gentle. Caring. So when he leans in to capture my lips with an almost aggressive manner, it surprises me.

His lips crash against mine, his teeth immediately nipping at my lips. His hand slides up to thread into my hair, gripping it tightly in his fist to control where I move. I flood between my thighs, immediately desperate for more, eager to feel all of him. I expected him to be soft and gentle. This isn’t that at all.

He jerks my head back with the fistful of hair, exposing my neck painfully. With a groan, he dips down to trace his teeth along the column of my throat, his breath warm there.

“I’ve thought about this moment since the first time I saw you,” he groans against my skin. “About tracing these tattoos with my tongue. About bending you over and riding you until you scream.”

Oh, fuck, I think, my hands splaying along his shoulders, my nails digging in to hold on.

“Wiley,” I rasp, not sure what to do with myself.

“Keep saying my name like that, I’m gonna think you want the same things,” he warns.

I’d nod my head if I could, but his grip in my hair prevents me from doing so. When my lips part on a husky, “yes,” he groans and reaches above us to the dock. With muscled strength I’ll never be able to match, he pulls the both of us up from the water and sets me on the edge of the dock. He’s careful with me, making sure not to give me splinters as he ushers me back until he can crawl over me. He tugs my bra down, exposing my breasts to the cool mountain air.

We’re in the middle of nowhere, but suddenly, it feels very exposed. I can’t help my hands coming up to cover myself, but he jerks my hands away.

“Ain’t no one out here to see but me,” he groans. “And even if they were, lucky them, because right now, I feel a bit like I’m in Heaven.” He looks down at me, his eyes taking in the tattoos etched into my skin.

I flush at the compliment. I’m no virgin, but I don’t think I’ve ever been so thoroughly complimented and appreciated by a man before while naked. He takes his time trailing down my body, his lips dancing along my skin, pulling at my nipples, driving me insane. When I begin to mew in desperation, he still doesn’t stop, winding me higher and higher until I’m rubbing against him, eager for more.

“My little goth cowgirl,” he purrs as he traces the tattoo of hemlock on my hip. “Spooky and sexy. I’m here for it.” He traces the tattoo with his tongue, as if he’s literally drinking my poison. “You gonna cast a spell on me, city girl?”

“Maybe,” I pant. “If you don’t fuck me soon.”

He chuckles and it sends something straight into my core. That husky chuckle will live rent free in my head for years. “Am I not moving fast enough for you, witchy woman?”

“No,” I growl. “You’re not.”

He grins up at me from between my thighs. “Then allow me to rectify the situation.”

He presses his mouth against my core over my underwear, which shouldn’t be sexy, but somehow, he sucks hard enough to have my back bowing from the wood beneath us. As he does so, his finger hooks into the material between my thighs and in one fell swoop, he tugs them off. Like he’s done it a million times. Hell, he probably has. With eyes like that and the way he moves, this man is certainly a lady killer. I’m just the next lady ready to be killed, and I’m here for it.

I don’t know when he gets his boxers off. I’m barely coherent of anything but the way he swirls his tongue around my clit and sucks. I cry out but cover my mouth with my hand, afraid someone will hear and come investigate.

“Let the mountains hear your cries,” Wiley commands. “Let it echo back to me.”

He climbs over me, his cock pressing against my entrance, teasing. He holds himself on his arms above me, holding his weight so I don’t have to.

“What if someone hears?” I ask.

We’d ridden far, and probably were nowhere near the house, but maybe someone was out here besides the cows meandering around in the distance.

“Then they’ll be jealous of me because I’ve got the pretty little witchy woman washing me with her spells, gushing around my cock, screaming my name for all to hear,” he purrs before leaning down to kiss me. This kiss is sweet and unhurried, and at first, I think it’s because we’re going to go slow now.

I’m wrong.

As he kisses me slowly, his cock dances at my entrance and then slams inside. I’m so wet, it meets no resistance, but I still cry out at the feel of it. Wiley is large, but he’s not so large that I feel as if I can’t take it. When I cry out, he captures that cry with his sweet kiss, swallowing it down, and it does feel a little bit like a spell, like he’s drinking my poison. When he groans back, I do the same, until I’m writhing beneath him.

When he begins to move, I lose all sense, because boy, does this man know how to move. He rocks his hips into mine, alternating between fast and slow strokes, all while he kisses me senseless. I undulate beneath him, eager for all that he has, begging for more with my own rocking of hips. He only stops the kiss when I start to shake, only lets me breathe when he himself can’t. We gasp for air at the same time as his hand fists my hair again, wrenching my head back to expose my neck.

“Witchy woman,” he groans as he increases his speed. He fucks me hard and fast now, his body powering into mine, driving me insane as my legs shake and my climax rises. “You’ve put a spell on me since the first moment you arrived here in our little town.”

I don’t correct him, don’t tell him I’m not a witch casting spells. Fuck, if he wants to think I’m a witch, I’ll be his witch as long as he keeps fucking me just like this. The words that come out of my mouth are garbled and make no sense, and he enjoys the fuck out of that.

“Speaking in tongues,” he teases between moans. “I knew it. Let’s see how loud we can get them.”

He leans up and grabs my legs, forcing them back until he begins to hit the perfect spot inside me. I scream and shatter, gushing around him, making him groan in what sounds like pain as my pussy clamps around his length. He clamps my legs together, still fucking me relentlessly as I shake and cry out. I’m pretty sure my voice does echo into the mountains, but I don’t care. My nails claw at the wood of the dock beneath us as he lifts me further up, going deeper, stroking parts of me that haven’t ever been stroked so well.

“Wiley!” I cry, writhing as he continues to power inside me.

“There it is,” he groans. “Come for me again, witchy woman.”

Like he commanded it, I do as he says. Not on purpose, but my body is wound so tight, it just tumbles over. I shatter, crying out into the open air, my body convulsing beneath him as he groans and his cock starts to jump inside of me. At the last minute, he jerks out and shoves my legs wide, his warmth spurting across my stomach, coating me. His hand fists his cock as he pumps, his moans music to my ears. I’m still shaking, panting with the force of my releases, when he reaches down and starts to rub his come into my skin, across my tattoos, marking me. He admires his work before reaching up and spreading his seed across my lips. My tongue darts out to taste and I moan as he stares down at me, as his eyes ignite yet again.

“Witch,” he moans. “Someone should burn you at the stake.”

“As long as you fuck me like that first, I might let you,” I reply with a grin, my chest rising and falling as I try to catch my breath.

His own grin flashes and everything about him makes my heart throb. “Deal,” he says, and then with boyish charm, he lurches up, naked as a jaybird and hoists me up over his shoulder. “Back to the pond!”

I scream, as he leaps off the end of the dock, me in his arms, so full of joy, I don’t know how I’d ever not been here with him. When the cold water closes over my head, it feels right this time on my overheated skin.

We both come up laughing, relaxed, carefree.

Perfect.