“Don’t lie to me again.” I catch her chin between my fingers and thumb as I begin to move, watching her lashes flutter as we find our rhythm.
“I won’t, I swear,” she says, uncertainty flickering in her eyes as she adds, “but I’m grateful for Lizzy’s lie. Without it, I wouldn’t be here. With you.”
I cup her cheek in my hand as I circle my hips, grinding against her clit at the end of each thrust, loving the way her breath hitches and her body tightens around me. “Me, too,” I confess. “But this is it. The first lie and the last.”
“Yes, oh yes,” she moans. Moving her hips faster, she demands I give her everything.
So I do. Fisting my hand in her hair, I slant my lips across hers and kiss her hard while I fuck her with every muscle, every cell, every piece of my heart, and my sweet girl gives as good as she gets. By the time she comes, her legs locking tight around my hips and her fingers clawing into my shoulders, I’m seconds behind her.
Pleasure swells and explodes, crashing over me just as thunder booms overhead, shaking the walls of our shelter.
Or I assume it’s thunder until the first pair of hooves bounds across my back and a furry black-and-white face pops between mine and Sabrina’s. The baby goat bleats, Sabrina screams, and I have a mild coronary as I push the beast to one side. A beat later, Sabrina’s cry is answered by a chorus of wailing, damp mama goats flooding into the shelter, their babies bouncing happily behind them.
“Oh my God,” Sabrina says, giggling as she fights to free her panties from a goat who’s decided they look like a tasty snack. “That’s mine, buddy. Mine!” She tugs them free and steps into the panties, eyes dancing as she points a warning finger my way. “Your shirt!”
I grab my shirt from a soaked mama goat with dribbling udders and two babies fighting for space beneath her. Mama is clearly having a hard day and probably deserves a shirt snack, but if I’m photographed riding bare-chested back to the castle, I’ll never live it down. “Sorry, love,” I say, pulling on the shirt and diving into the rest of my clothes while Sabrina does the same beside me. “I’ll bring you a snack soon.”
“They’re already eating your sleeping bag,” Sabrina says, holding her corset over her head as she nudges my hip with hers. “Shall we leave these ladies and babies to their rest?”
I smile. “Yes, we shall.” I kiss her nose and then her neck, pulling in a deep breath. “You smell much better than a goat.”
“That’s what all the guys say,” she says, nipping my jaw with her sharp little teeth, sending a thrill of awareness zipping through me all over again.
“Do they?” I ask as we make our way to the door. “You’ve had your share of men, then, Miss Sabrina?”
“I’ve had enough to know when I’ve found one worth keeping.” She takes my hand and squeezes my fingers.
“Good,” I say. “I have to confess I was worried about your sister. Not that there’s anything wrong with being inexperienced, I just wasn’t sure I was ready for that. Not without feelings involved, anyway.”
“Everything’s better with feelings involved,” she says, pausing in the doorway and looking up at me in the gray light. “So does that mean you have feelings…for me?”
“Of course, you ridiculous woman,” I say gruffly. “I don’t forgive people this quickly if feelings aren’t involved. Not even for incredible sex.”
She beams up at me. “It was incredible. And my sister isn’t that inexperienced. She had a boyfriend.” Her eyes cut to the right. “And now I think she might be in bed with your brother. Maybe?”
“What?” I demand, my voice loud enough to make the mama goats bleat in protest. “Nick?”
“No, Jeffrey.” Sabrina pats my arm as she leans out, casting a glance up at the sky. “I’ll explain when we get back. I think there’s a break in the system. Should we try to make it to the castle before more clouds roll in?”
“Absolutely, but you must be confused. Jeffrey doesn’t just ‘get in bed’ with people. Especially people I’m supposed to marry.”
Sabrina nods again. “Right. There must be some reasonable explanation. I’ll try to think of what else it could be while we ride.”
“Good.” She starts to step away, but I grab her and pull her back into my arms, kissing her until she melts. Only when she’s breathless and rubbing against me like a cat in need of a good scratching do I pull back and gaze down into her face.
“What was that for?” she murmurs.
“Because I can. And I should. And I must.”
She smiles. “Yes, yes, and yes.”
And then I help her into Hero’s saddle, swing up onto Barcelona, and we make a break for home, galloping into the stable barn just as the second wave of the storm hits and rain comes pouring down. But on the stable’s second floor, there are showers and plush robes to put on after and a lounge with a vineyard view, where Sabrina and I grab two beers, put our feet up on the leather couch, and watch the storm while we brainstorm reasons my brother might have told her sister to “get back in bed.”