“But if we were doing it fast?” I laugh, low and raw. “Those clothes of yours wouldn’t survive. I would push you against the closest wall. I’d yank down those skimpy shorts and move aside your panties. I’d take you hard. I know you’d be ready; you’d already be dripping wet. Maybe you are, even now? I’d fuck you until we’re both breathless, until you’re screaming my name. If you ask me to kiss you, Mel, your life will never be the same.”
I can see the way that she’s now breathless. Her chest rising and falling fast, lips parted, eyes glazed with the images that I’ve painted for her. And then I pull back.
Melena startles, realizing how close we are, and still staring at me with that kind of awe that she had when I pulled back the shower curtain. But I made a promise to her. I wouldn’t touch her unless she asked. So I stand up and walk away.
Even though my cock is harder than a rock and I want nothing but to pin her to the Texas dirt and make good on the promise of her screaming. I can only hope that laying it all out there will leave her wanting more.
Because Melena has gotten under my skin. I’m starting to crave more than just her body, and if something doesn’t break between us soon, both of us will be wrecked.
7
Melena
I’m staring at the ceiling above my bed, and I think I’ve been staring at it for hours. There’s no chance that I’ll be able to sleep right now. My brain feels fried. Racing.
I tried that old trick of just closing my eyes and letting my body do the work to fall asleep, but it didn’t work, and now I’m here.
There hasn’t been much reason to use my phone, but I roll over and check it now. It’s well past midnight. Nearly two a.m. I’ve been going to bed early because the work is exhausting. Normal weekdays don’t really matter here, but Harlan told me we were taking the day off tomorrow. Apparently today is Friday.
Thank fuck we’re taking the day off because if I can’t sleep, I can’t get up at dawn.
The things that Harlan said to me earlier slip into my brain again and I groan, scrubbing my hands across my face. They’ve been re-appearing in my head ever since he said them. Hell, when he was saying those things I was about ready to strip my clothes off and let him do exactly what he said he would.
But I’m saving myself.
That thought enters my head as automatically as looking both ways when crossing the road. It’s something that’s always been there. Save yourself for marriage, and everything will work out. Save yourself for marriage, and the man you choose will be the right one.
I’ve always felt that way, because watching my parents’ relationship and how much they love and cherish each other has been one of the best parts of my life. But I’ve had friends who got married without being virgins, and they seem happy. And my parents—my mother specifically—never pressured me. It was my decision to save myself. My choice.
But my choices led me to a place where everything in my life was almost destroyed because of a job. I didn’t have friends anymore. I barely had myself. So how sound are my decisions really?
I shouldn’t sleep with Harlan as a reaction to the things that led me here. I shouldn’t use previous bad decisions as an excuse to change my mind about my virginity. That isn’t smart. But I also feel like he has a point—the raw chemistry that sprung up between us isn’t something that I’ve ever felt with anyone else, and with him it was instant.
The memory of his mouth on mine flashes through my mind. I will never forget that moment. The sheer heat of his lips and the hardness of his body. It was beyond temptation. I’m not ready to ask him for everything—not yet. But the thought of not saving myself for a marriage that wasn’t even on the horizon no longer panics me the way it used to. Maybe I just hadn’t met the right person that made me ready to take that step.
Another flash of Harlan’s lips, and the restless energy it gave me has me pushing back the blankets and getting out of bed. I’m not exactly sure what I’m doing, but I can’t just lay here in this bed thinking about him.
I pull on my clothes and shoes, including a sweatshirt because the temperature dropped farther than I expected during the night. I need distraction and movement. Something different. I grab my notebook too, and my keys.
Before I know it, I’m in my car and hurtling down the drive toward the main road. There is a gas station and diner maybe twenty miles down the road from the ranch. It connects this desolate place to one of the bigger highways.