The Boy and His Ribbon (The Ribbon Duet 1)

“It’s past midnight. Why am I out of bed?” Cassie blinked with blurry eyes. “You do realise Dad asked you to get up at dawn to do the first cut of the season, right?”

I nodded. “I know.”

“That’s in…I dunno, four hours or so.”

“I know that, too.”

“Well, how about you tell me what you’re doing here, so I know if you’ve gone insane or not.”

I smiled, climbing the small stoop so we were eye level. She was shorter than me but not by much. Her arms weren’t as strong. Her legs not as fast. Her smile not as pure as Della’s.

Funny how I compared the two.

Strange that I found both perfect in their own way.

“You’re staring,” she murmured, her voice dropping into the husky undertones that never failed to make me hard.

Clearing my throat, I said softly, “Thank you for letting Della ride your horse today.”

She tilted her head so thick hair rivered over her shoulder. “That’s what you woke me up to say?”

I shrugged. “I needed to say it.”

“Well, I needed to sleep.” She smirked, her cheeks pinking with pleasure instead of annoyance as she pretended.

“I also…” I coughed, doing my best to get up the courage. “I also wanted to do something.”

“What something?”

Why was this so hard? How had she kissed me that night in the barn? It took a hell of a lot of guts, and it made me respect her that much more for being the first to do it.

“I—” Gripping the back of my neck, I squeezed hard. Doing my best to suck up my fear, I leaned toward her. “I wanted to kiss you again.”

She gasped just as I closed the distance and pressed my lips to hers.

We stood frozen and awkward, her in the kitchen, me on the stoop, and my heart roared in my ears. I didn’t know what to do next. I’d done this all wrong.

Cursing myself, I pulled back only for her arms to shoot around my neck and her mouth to seek mine. She yanked me to her, making me stumble against the doorframe and brace myself on the wood.

Her lips weren’t innocent like last time. They’d had practice and now had a brave assurance that mine lacked.

Her tongue didn’t flutter shyly, it didn’t dance or ask. It pierced my lips and entered my mouth with a flavour of mint and teenage need.

Her arms tightened, deepening the kiss and wedging her body against mine.

And that was all I could take.

I’d come to give a heartfelt thank you and deliver a courteous kiss, yet Cassie turned it into a clawing, drawing need for more.

My hands left the doorframe and wrapped around her waist, jerking her against me, groaning at the delicious friction of her against every hard ridge of me.

She moaned as I spun her out of the house and crashed her against the porch wall. Our mouths never separated as our breathing turned quick, and our hands roamed with no direction.

Her tongue fought mine, adding another element to the kiss, turning it sloppy and violent. I didn’t care about technique or learning how to do it better. I let her guide me, following her lead, kissing her as savagely as she kissed me.

And when her leg cocked over my hip—the very same one with a cattle brand and so many memories attached to it—I snapped out of the stupor she’d put me in and fell backward, breathing hard.

Stumbling down the steps, I stared at her, almost buckling and returning for more.

She stood in cute cotton shorts and a nightshirt with bright pink flamingos, hair wild, lips red, chest panting, and eyes begging me to come back.

It was thanks to her blatant invitation and the fact I knew exactly what she was asking that gave me the power to walk away.

The night sky was my salvation from temptation as I put one foot in front of the other and dared let my hand wander and squeeze the excruciating ache between my legs.

Just before I reached the garden path, a sultry voice fell like starlight. “Della can ride my horses anytime she wants. I’ll share everything with her…as long as you continue to kiss me like that, Ren Wild.”

I didn’t turn around as the kitchen door closed quietly.

* * * * *

The rest of summer was filled with late afternoon swims with Della, Liam, and Cassie; cold lemonade and barbecues thanks to Patricia and John, and a sensation of rightness as Della excelled at school and I indulged in my calling to work the land.

My hands were never fully clean from dirt. My skin was always browned from the sun. My body lean and strong, no matter how much Patricia tried to feed me.

I never saw a penny for the many hours I worked. It didn’t matter if I started at dawn and finished long past dusk, John never gave me a dollar.