Chasing The Wild (Crimson Ridge Book 1)

Waking up, there’s no hiding the smile that immediately finds itself at home on my lips. I feel like I must have spent the whole night grinning because my cheeks are sore.

Actually, make that, my entire body feels sore… but in a deliciously, filthy way.

Colt certainly made true on his promises of not getting much sleep.

With teeth dragging across my bottom lip, I brush my touch over the imprint of his fingers left on my hips. After the shower, he tugged me down on top of him once we’d finally made it to the bedroom.

“Ride me, angel. Give me one more.”

Holy shit. The man dragged yet another orgasm out of me, when I was certain there was no fucking way my body could possibly reach one more climax. Only, this time when it claimed me, the sensation was slow and rolling and languid, picking me up and spiriting me away as he let go with his own release.

I’m more than a little groggy with the lack of sleep. It feels like his hands were on me, and his giant cock was buried inside me only a few moments ago, yet as I turn my head, stretching like a cat beneath the thick blanket, my hulking cowboy has vanished.

There’s only the hypnotizing scent of him, and the unfamiliar feel of his soft bed linen to cradle me this morning.

If it could even still be considered morning.

My head pops up off the pillow, scanning the room and listening for any hint of where Colt might be.

But everything is peacefully quiet, with no wind howling or creaking sounds roaming through the house like I’ve become accustomed to whenever there’s a storm front whipping across Devil’s Peak.

Wriggling around, I move to toss the covers aside and go in search of something to wear—because I am most definitely still completely naked and in the bed of my ex-boyfriend’s father—when my eyes fall on the sight of my phone on the bedside table, a note tucked beneath it.

I don’t remember where I left my cell last night. Colt must have fetched it for me, and my heart does backflips and cartwheels that he didn’t want to wake me, but that he’s gone to the effort of leaving this right here for me to find easily.

Do not go reading anything into it, Layla.

The attempt at sternly talking to myself does nothing to deter my silly little heart from giggling and skipping circles inside my chest.

His handwriting is kind of scrawling, but easily legible. Black ballpoint on a lined sheet torn from a spiral notebook with the top of the page all ragged where he’s ripped it out.

It’s so very… him.

‘Gone to take care of the stock. Consider this an official day off, especially since your demanding boss kept you up all night.’

Forget trying to keep my cool. Colton Wilder flirting with me over cute handwritten notes left beside my pillow in the morning… that’s my goddamn weak spot, right there.

I check the time. Shit, it’s already 10 a.m.

No wonder he needed to go take care of things around the ranch. Here I’ve been lazing in bed, while he’s gone off braving the snow and cold. Part of me feels insanely guilty, but after the way last night took such an unexpected turn, maybe this is his way of giving himself a little space. An opportunity to gain a clear head.

God, I hope he’s not having second thoughts. My stomach quickly knots itself at the idea he might be wanting some time to think and come to the inevitable conclusion that falling into bed together was a massive fucking mistake.

Sucking in a deep breath through my nose, I decide now is not the time to start overanalyzing. Last night was the best fucking sex I’ve ever had. Even if it was a one-time-only thing—the mere thought of which just about makes me whimper like a pathetic fool—there’s no denying our chemistry.

Everything was perfect and scandalously hot.

A girl can only dream of being indulged so expertly by a cowboy sex god.

Once I’ve found a towel and padded back to my own room, I make quick work of showering, pulling on some leggings that do wonderful things for my ass paired with a cropped sweater I can always count on to make me feel cute as hell. Taming my wild hair is out of the question, so I settle on a stylishly messy bun.

Glancing at myself in the mirror, I can hardly believe how far and fast things have changed since last night. My cheeks heat at the thought of seeing Colt for the first time… but even though I’m nervous, there’s also excitement zooming around behind my ribs.

I’m all giddy over a certain cowboy who is nearly twice my age and my ex-boyfriend’s father.

Holy shit, who am I, and what did I do with Layla Birch—good girl ranch hand?

As the promise of coffee and food lures me toward the kitchen, I can hear the sizzling of a pan and there’s a mouth-watering smell of bacon drifting to greet me.

But, the moment I spy his broad shoulders from the back, my nerves kick up.

How does this work? Am I allowed to go up to him and kiss him? Do we kiss? Outside of sex and getting naked and being out of our minds for each other, how do I treat this cowboy?

Colt turns around with the pan, and his expression doesn’t really tell me anything. Last night, when we shared our bowl of reheated macaroni and he stood right there at the kitchen island between my knees, he was flirty and more seductive than can be good for my health.

Here, now, in the mid-morning light, he’s standing on the far side of the bench looking like he wants to melt the cup of coffee in front of him with the powers of the mind.

“Hey.” I wander over to the pot he’s already made. While my eyes feel like they’re hanging out of my head, in desperate need of said caffeine, I’m also more than a little uncertain of how we do this part. Busying myself with pouring a mug, a glance confirms that he already has his own, so I retreat around the other side of the counter and slide onto the closest stool.

This man is unreadable at the best of times, and while I’m not going to tolerate poor behavior from him, I also have compassion for the fact that what we did would be a lot for him to process.

Fuck my life for being such a goddamn empath all the time.

There’s no turning that sucker off.

“Thanks for letting me sleep… I could have come and given you a hand.” I fiddle with the cuff of my sweater as I watch him fix a plate. An empty one sits beside the sink; his own breakfast already eaten.

“It was only feeding out, easy enough to do on my own.” He doesn’t really look at me, and I’m shifting around uncomfortably in my chair.

I could have sworn the note he left beside the bed for me was playful, a little flirtatious even. So why is he looking like he wants to hurl the frying pan across the kitchen?

Maybe I read it all wrong between us.

“Colt… if you need…” I barely get the words out before he cuts me off.

“Layla.” My plate gets slid across to me, loaded with bacon and a couple of fried eggs, and smelling all kinds of delicious. Except, the man in question hovers and then leans forward, bracing himself on the countertop with his fists.

Goddammit, at this rate, I’m going to crawl out of my skin.

This is it.

This is the moment he tells me it was all a bad idea, a terrible idea even, and that he’s going to pack me off on a horse down the mountain.

“We’re going to have to have a real fucking adult conversation.” His jaw flexes a couple of times.

Oh god. I feel shaky. I knew in my logical mind that there was every chance this might happen.

“It’s ok, Colt.” Resting my mug on the counter, I keep my fingers wrapped around it, even just to give myself something to hold onto. Warmth seeps through my fingertips as I try to find adequate words.

But there are none. So, I blurt out what I probably—most definitely—should not be saying. “Last night was amazing. Incredible. I just thought… fuck… that maybe this might have been fun for more than just that once, but I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable, so…”

My words die in my throat when the cowboy in front of me advances so fast I’m left a little dizzy.

Within a heartbeat he’s standing right beside my stool, spinning me around to face him. Colt is so close that I’m consumed by his scent and heat and brawn that fills every morsel of my awareness. His flannel shirt is rolled up his arms, revealing those corded muscles and network of veins. It takes so much fucking willpower not to grab the hem of the fabric and tug his body against mine.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He looks at me with flashing eyes, and in those honeyed depths, for a second, I see a dash of a deeper emotion. Concern? Surely not.

“I just—uhh—I’m assuming you were about to say how terrible this whole idea was?”

“Layla… Fuck…” Colt shakes his head while scrubbing a hand over his stubble. “No, angel, what I’m trying to say here is that we’ve got a supplies issue.” His brows pinch together.

My pulse intensifies. Relief and some other weird sensation pours into my veins at hearing him call me angel and that he’s almost touching me again.

“A supplies issue?” It’s my turn to look bewildered.

That’s when Colt erases any thought from my mind. He makes a soft noise in the back of his throat, then runs the knuckle of his forefinger over my cheek. Using that same hand, he glides down, tracing over my skin, before tipping my chin up to meet his stare. With one fist braced on the back of my stool, he lowers his mouth to meet mine and steals me away in a soft, divine kiss. One that feels warm, comforting, with a faint hint of coffee on his wetted lips. As he treats me to such an exquisite moment, the tingling scratch of his beard sends a wave of arousal straight through me.

I’m instantly transported to all the places his mouth, and that beard, made their acquaintance with other parts of my body last night. Then again in the early hours of this morning.

“That should have been the first fucking thing I did when you walked in here, I’m sorry. I’m completely shit at this.” He brushes his lips over mine again before drawing back.

Excuse me while I collect myself. This man has got me busy dissolving into a puddle on the kitchen floor.

“You’re not shit at this.” I somehow remember how to form words.

“No—Yes—I am, Layla. I’ve spent the past couple of hours in my own fucking head, then seeing you walk in here looking too gorgeous for words made me realize that we need to have a serious conversation.”

I blush profusely, and somehow attempt to keep my cool.

“About?”

“There’s something I didn’t really think to factor in.”

“And that is…” Tilting my head to one side, I wonder what on earth he’s about to say.

“Protection.” Colt practically chews the word and spits it out.

I have to bite the inside of my cheek to stop from laughing out loud. He looks so fucking serious right now, and while I get it, I really do, it shouldn’t be quite as dramatic as he’s making this out to be.

“You’re saying that…”

“Layla, trust me when I say that I’m going to struggle to keep my hands off you these next couple of weeks… and I haven’t got anywhere near the number of condoms for all the ways I plan on taking care of you, sweet girl.”

A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth as I flutter my eyelashes over my coffee in his direction. “And that’s what you’re all twisted up about in here?”

“Call me old fashioned, or just too damn polite for my own good, but don’t you think it’s fairly important to talk about?” He crosses his arms and gives me a stern look, the exact kind that leaves my clit pulsing.

“No, I do… and I truly appreciate it. I just can’t say that was what I expected we’d be discussing over breakfast.”

“Well, in my eyes, it sure as hell is a serious chat we need to be having. Not while it’s in the heat of the moment, and I’m two seconds away from getting my mouth on your pussy.”

I have to take a hasty gulp of my coffee, with my cheeks flaming at the words mouth and pussy coming from this man, never mind the fact that I most definitely am ready for more of that kind of treatment. Preferably as soon as possible.

“Ok, cowboy…” He wants an adult conversation, then I’m more than happy to lay it all out on the line to prove to him just how much I want this. How much I want him, even if it’s only for the short amount of time I’ll be able to enjoy having him. “I’m on birth control, and I’m all clear, just so you know. I got tested before winter… and, well… you’re the only person I’ve been with since then.”

He still looks pained, and closes his eyes as he clears his throat. “I wanted to ignore it this morning when I pulled open the drawer in the bathroom and saw I only had a couple of condoms left.” Opening his gorgeous eyes again, he holds my gaze and shakes his head a little ruefully. “Little did I know the last time we were in town, that should have been one of the supplies I restocked. But I wasn’t exactly expecting to be doing anything but fucking my fist in the shower every time I thought about you.”

Rolling my lips together, I peek at him from beneath my lashes. “You think about me when you touch yourself, cowboy?” God, that is the sexiest fucking admission I’ve ever heard.

“Only you have that kind of power over me, Layla.” Colt pauses for a moment, then steps into me again, and I hope to god he’s feeling the same magnetic pull to be touching constantly as I’m being tortured by. “You have for a long time now. Longer than I want to admit, because I really shouldn’t have been looking at you that way, but I couldn’t fucking fight it.”

Colt’s heat and scent wash through me, and I nearly goddamn whimper as his knee slides between my thighs. He’s got a hunger in his hazel stare that is enough to make me forget about food and coffee. To forget about anything other than begging him to get me naked again, spread me out on the counter, and have me for breakfast.

“Well, how’s this… you’re the only person I’ve thought about, too.”

His chest makes that seductive, rumbly noise, like a storm rolling in, and he grabs hold of my chin. Trapping me exactly where he wants me.

I’ll gladly stay pinned here. Hell, this man could hog-tie me right on this spot on the kitchen floor, do whatever he wants to me, and I’d say thank you.

Lowering his head, he speaks against my lips. “Fuck, that’s hot. I think I’m gonna need you to show me what that looks like.” Then his tongue slides against mine, invading my mouth and commanding me with the kind of kiss I’ll be left dreaming about for years to come.

I whimper into his mouth, because it’s honest to god the only thing I can do. My blood turns to white-hot sparks flying through my veins, and every nerve ending dances with joy at the way he presses against my body.

God, I want his weight on top of me. I’ve only had one night of this man, and already I’m craving the sensation of being pinned beneath his bulk and strength.

Things start to build, he sinks deeper into my mouth, exploring hands begin to fist and squeeze the soft material at my hips, my waist, the swell of my thighs. Just as I think we’re definitely going to follow the road of desire to its inevitable climax, Colt pauses and makes a primal noise, something part growl and part groan against my mouth.

“Holy shit. Angel, I gotta go finish up the crap I’ve got left to do.” He rests his forehead against mine, surely able to hear my frantic pulse fluttering in my throat. “As much as I can’t think of anything fucking worse than walking away from you right now, I have to go.”

Swallowing heavily and trying not to sound completely porn star worthy, I tuck a stray curl behind my ear and collect my sanity for a second. “I can help, if you need. Let me get dressed and I’ll come give you a hand.”

Colt gives me a crooked smile that melts my brain. “No, you stay right here.” He brushes his thumb across my kiss bitten lips. “You’ve more than earned a day off. Rest up, eat your breakfast—that has now gone cold, might I add.”

I glare at him. “Whose fault is that? Mr. Condoms and Important Sex-Talk.”

He grunts a short laugh. “I plead innocence. Besides, I want you naked and in my bath when I get back… and I’m sure you’ll keep yourself busy reading one of your horny books.”

There’s a spluttering noise that comes out of me, and I damn near fall off my stool. Absolutely no way did this man just say those words.

But Colt’s hazel eyes glow with boyish mischief. “Oh, don’t think I don’t know what you’ve got on that innocent-looking little device of yours.”

“What do you know about the types of books I read?” I’m incredulous, but have absolutely no right to be. He’s correct. My Kindle is brimming with the most deliciously smutty books imaginable.

“Oh, I’m sorry… reading serious literature over there every night, are you, angel?”

Shaking my head, I nibble on my bottom lip. “You really never cease to amaze me, cowboy. I thought you preferred to stay cut off from society up here on your mountain.”

“I know a thing or two. The guys, they talk about what their women are reading.” He’s mighty pleased with himself. Smug Colt is next-level sexy. Damn him, he makes cockiness look so, so ruggedly good.

“Bet they do.” Rolling my eyes, I give him a poke in his muscled chest.

That earns me a searing look and a squeeze of my hip, but he steps away, readying himself to venture back out into the snowy vista blanketing the ranch.

“Oh, wait. If I’m not allowed to come help, then you have to take this out to the horses.” I hop up and grab a couple of carrots from the stash I’ve been keeping. “You’ll need to apologize to my friends that I’m not around to give them their dose of attention today… you can explain exactly why I’m not there.”

As I hand him the carrots, Colt cocks his head to one side before his gaze drops appreciatively down my body. “I think they already had a pretty good preview as to why, last night.”

The tips of my ears heat.

He runs his tongue over his bottom lip.

“Remember what I said. I’ll be back in a few hours.” Glancing at the carrots I’ve pressed into his big palm, Colt shakes his head before turning and heading out the door.

Leaving me to a day spent swirled up in mountain-retreat-luxury. The kind of snowed-in dream I could have only ever dared to imagine. Some kind of faraway wish, the kind girls like me only get to sigh over wistfully in movies. As I reheat my breakfast, stoke up the fire, and float around this beautiful home, I can’t help the smile that keeps creeping across my lips.

This man might live alone in the middle of nowhere, but his taste is immaculate. Everything from the sleek black finish on his truck, to the finely laid stonework wrapping the fireplace, to the flannel shirts that compliment the flecks of amber in his eyes.

His life is a work of art. This ranch is a giant, awe-inspiring canvas.

And somehow, for the briefest of moments, I’ve managed to steal just the tiniest slice of this paradise and the man who comes with it.