Cheryl Francesa wasn't enough, apparently, my nipples were still rock-hard and my body still ached for the touch of Clint's.
There was nothing else for it. I went to my bedroom and opened the drawer in my bedside table, taking out a discreet purple silicone toy.
Before I went to sleep that night, I finished myself off, coming to the thought of Clint's hands sliding over my breasts earlier. I wondered if, on his ranch, he was coming to thoughts of me.
I hoped he was.
Clint called me a little after dawn to let me know that he was finishing up the farm chores early, and could pick me up in two hours.
I was out in the parking lot waiting for him, so we did not have a repeat of the passionate hallway kiss for Mr. and Mrs. Francesa to laugh over, but when I climbed into the truck and slid over to greet him, the quick kiss we shared and the feel of his side pressed against mine was enough to remind my body of the desire I felt for him.
I slid back over to my own seat with some regret, and Clint smiled ruefully and leaned over, patting my leg.
"I brought you coffee," he said. "I needed it this morning, I had trouble sleeping. Too many thoughts of you, and what you do to me."
He lifted his own coffee to his lips as I cradled mine in my hands, enjoying the warmth of it against my fingers.
"Just think of how difficult it would have been to sleep with me there," I murmured.
"Oh, I did," he said firmly, putting the coffee back in a cupholder.
"Repeatedly?" I asked, looking at him as innocently as possible.
"You're going to kill me," he said, and reached ou
t to turn the radio on.
"That isn't exactly what I had in mind. I will let you be, though," I said.
"For six months," he replied.
"For six months minus one day," I retorted, "I'm not waiting a minute longer than I have to."
That weekend was sweet and long, and went by in an instant. Clint showed me around the ranch in a different way than I'd seen it. Instead of counting bales of moldy hay and measuring the thickness of support beams in outside sheds, he showed me parts of the ranch he'd changed in the past few years, parts where his father's way, he said, would never be beat, and parts where he wasn't sure what to do.
We went out on ATV's so he could show me a beautiful hidden spring that made this property very valuable when Clint's great-grandfather had claimed it, and he told me stories about how his family had kept the land for generations.
"You want to stay here forever, don't you?" I asked at one point.
"Why would I want to go anywhere else?" he asked, "All I want is this ranch, and a family to pass it along to."
We spent hours talking and laughing, and I followed him while he did some of the chores, before we went into town.
Brandon and Will were heading in to watch a movie, so Clint rode with me in my work vehicle and we all four went on a double date, Clint heading home in Brandon's truck with them, me returning to my solitary apartment.
The other men were funny and kind, and I enjoyed being around all of them. Clint was relaxed with them, throwing his head back and laughing at their jokes. I envied the easy way that they had together, and I wished that I were part of it.
Mostly, though, I wished for more of Clint. I wanted to feel him, hold him, touch him. Unfortunately, I wanted his respect more. I didn’t even joke about breaking our six month pact.
Work on Monday was rough, but nothing that I didn't expect. I loved my job, but for once, I would rather blow it off and go explore Clint's ranch than keep my spreadsheets up to date.
"Someone had a good weekend," Sarah said, when she walked into my office at lunchtime.
"Pretty nice," I admitted.
"What's his name?" she asked, ducking inside and shutting the door behind her.
I laughed, getting out my bottle of water and easing away from my computer, ready to have lunch