Page 94 of Chris

God.

It was so damn good though.

He swore, over the notes of the hay and the horses, of old wood and dirt floor, he still smelled the lingering whiff of their sex in the air. Of her fresh, yet warm perfume that reminded him of a summer rain in the dead heat.

“Again, once more before you go,” she whispered. “Please.”

Her words danced along his lips, sinful and tantalizing. Who could say no to that? It’s what he wanted, too. If he could keep this woman with him forever, he would do exactly that.

Chris reached for his discarded pants, digging through the pocket to find the last fucking condom he had. She took the foil packet from his fingertips, ripping it open before making quick work of sheathing his hard length in latex. Air hissed between his teeth when she settled on top of him, hovering with the head of his cock sliding between the fleshy lips of her sex while she watched him.

Perfect.

She was so fucking perfect.

When she came down on his length, he swore he found heaven. Even if it was his personal brand of hell, too. After all, it only reminded him that she wasn’t entirely his.

Not yet.

“You made me trust you,” she breathed against his mouth, but it almost seemed like something else. It almost sounded like you made me love you, and fuck, he felt that inside his bones. He heard that louder, echoing in his heart with the beats it pumped, and spreading like a wildfire ready to devastate his soul. Not that he had a soul anymore because he gave it to this fucking woman, and he had no idea when that happened. “And now you’re leaving.”

“Not for long. I swear, not for long.”

That hurt.

It hurt him, too.

The day Chris would leave the ranch came far too soon for his liking. Despite having a ticket bought, and a time he had to be at the airport to make his flight, he still took his time packing up his bag in the guest house he used during his stay. One thing at a time—slowly.

Soon, he’d packed his bags, and set them on the front porch of the small house. Crossing his arms over his chest, he stared out over the property and the houses connected by small pathways.

Time to say goodbye.

Even if wasn’t a goodbye.

It still seemed like it.

Chris picked up the bag at his feet, settling his raging heart to finish this. The quicker he left, the faster this plan—even if he didn’t understand everything, and still had more yet to figure out on his end—would get started. And that’s what he wanted and needed more than anything, right?

To get Val, and Maria, away from here.

It sucked he had to leave first.

Chris hadn’t expected Jorge to be waiting in front of his house, a handful of men loitering within shouting distance, as he came down the pathway. While the man had been mostly respectful during his stay here, Chris understood it wasn’t because Jorge wanted to be. Rather, it was because he had to be.

He wanted that deal.

Now, he had it.

He thought.

“Ready to head out?” Jorge asked, his foot kicking out at Maria’s striped gray and white kitten that jumped over his boot. “Damn cat. Maria! Get out here and put this goddamn thing somewhere before I throw it off the cliffs!”

Chris tried not to show his annoyance at hearing the little girl he cared a great deal for be yelled at in that way. And by her own father, no less. She was such a sweet child, but her father didn’t seem to care.

“I am heading out,” Chris said as the screen door on the porch pushed open. Little Maria came out, but wouldn’t meet anyone’s gaze as she came down the steps. Not too far behind her was her mother. Valeria stayed in the doorway, arms folded over her chest, and watched Chris from a safe distance. “Have to catch that flight, or I will never hear the end from my mother when I don’t show up for her dinner tomorrow.”

Jorge made a noise under his breath. “Women. They’re all the fucking same. More trouble than they’re worth.” Then, to his daughter who picked up the kitten, he snapped, “And keep the fucking thing out of my sight, got it?”