CHAPTER EIGHT

It’s the hardest time of year before fall comes. We’re tagging some cattle. Deciding which ones we’ll sell off and which ones we’ll keep through the winter. I’m anticipating a good harvest all around so the mood is light even though the work is hard.

I wake early one morning, a little after three. Keira is a lump under the blankets, snoring softly.

Gently, I strip the covers back. She’s in a thin, silk slip that reaches the middle of her thighs. With my fingertips, I trace the soft curve of her leg. Enjoying how it dips down and widens. She sighs in her sleep and shifts onto her back.

I kiss the inside of her thigh, right above her cocked knee. She smells sweet, like the lotion she uses, the kind that reminds me of spring flowers. I dart my tongue out and taste her skin.

She tastes like my wife. Like she did from the first time I kissed her, in this bed.

I glance up at her relaxed face. She’s beautiful, her mouth full, her pale lashes long. Her brilliant hair spills out over the pillow, tangled waves so soft they’re like silk in my fingers. My eyes move down her body, over her full breasts beneath her slip. Over her tapered waist and the gentle swell of her hips.

She gave me permission to do as I like, within reason, while she sleeps. Especially at times of the year when our schedules don’t match up. So I part her thighs and push the slip up. Between them is her perfect pussy, a little wet from sleep. I bend and my nose touches the crease of her sex. The scent is sweet and familiar.

I didn’t realize before I married her what a difference time makes when it comes to love. At first, loving her was exciting like a storm. Then it was dark and jealous and possessive. Now, it’s all of those things, but through it runs a deep vein of contentment.

At some point, our new, wild love became something deeper. Like the difference between fresh rain over the mountain and the cool parts of the river that flow even in high summer.

With each year, the current grows deeper.

Peaceful, like a river.

This morning, I feel a mix of that peaceful love and a storm ready to break through. But she’s asleep and I have to be gentle. So I slip one thigh over my shoulder and ease my upper body between her legs. She turns her head to the side, sighs, but stays asleep.

I run my tongue over the seam of her pussy. Her taste blossoms on my tongue. Sweet, a little tart. So addicting that my pulse quickens in response.

I lick her again, pushing my tongue into the softness of her cunt. She moans and her pussy clenches, giving me a little more of her arousal. Mind empty, I lap it clean and push her thighs further apart to spread her wider. Baring her sex so I can run my fingers down the valley and gather her wetness.

She moans as I push my middle finger into her cunt. Her hot inner muscles contract. Pulling me in deeper. Her eyes stay shut as I bend and find her clit with my tongue.

I love when she comes in her sleep. It feels different than when she’s awake. The build is quicker and the release is wetter.

She moans. I can tell by the timbre that she’s still unconscious. Her hand, draped open on the sheet, quivers.

I find her G-spot and work it slowly. Gentle taps, then slow strokes. Just the way she likes it. Her thighs tremble and I glance up to see the muscles of her stomach tighten. My tongue keeps going, my finger strokes her from the inside.

Then she comes. Her body doesn’t seize as it does when she’s awake. Instead, it quivers and the pleasure rolls through her in a wave. Her hand clenches. She gasps and her eyelids flutter.

Her pussy throbs and wetness slips out around my fingers. Soaking my knuckles and the sheet.

I lick her clean and pull my finger free, shifting up to lay beside her. Those blue eyes are hazy and her smile is sleepy. Her body is relaxed into the bed. I know I can fuck her easily, but I don’t. Instead, I brush her hair back and ease her onto her side. My hand moves in slow circles down her back, soothing her to sleep.

“Where…you going?” she mumbles.

“To bring the cattle in,” I say, kissing her head. “You rest.”

Her eyes flutter shut. My hand moves down to her lower belly, where our next child grows.

She told me last night, as we prepared to sleep. I was stretched out on my back in bed. She slipped out of the bathroom and lifted a test. Flipping it to show the little blue cross.

Then she cried, but it was the good kind of tears. She doesn’t cry the bad kind very much anymore.

I fell asleep with her in my arms, thinking about new beginnings. How just when I think I have all that I deserve, she goes and gives me more.

Now, in the early morning, with the sun still below the horizon, I’m awestruck. I can never do for her what she did for me. I was living in a prison of pain and hatred. And she’s had the courage to break my ice and love me despite my coldness.

My beloved.

I lean in and kiss between her hip bones, right below her navel. Then I get dressed for the day, pulling on my work clothes and tying my boots. I take up my hat and that’s when I feel it.

Hard in my pocket.

Something I’ve been working on for the last few months.

I pull it out, uncurling my hand to reveal the second wooden foal I’ve made for her. I smile, in spite of myself. And I leave it on the sheet, in the empty space on my side of the bed.

She’ll find it when she wakes.

Then she’ll come find me, tears in her eyes.

All the pieces of my heart that she repaired are full as I exit the house and enter the yard. The lights above the barn are on and there’s a gathering of men by the stalls. Jensen and Westin wait with their horses, ready to help head up the crew moving the cattle from the western pastures and through the outer yard.

It’s the beginning of a new cycle. The weather is already cooling and soon after, snow will come. Keira will give birth in the late winter and our baby will be old enough to crawl on the porch by summer. Then it’ll be time to tag and brand and head to auction all over again.

The day is long and it’s warm again by the afternoon.