Sharp Shootin' Cowboy (Hot Cowboy Nights, #3)(79)

Writhing with need, she reached for his erection, jutting large, hard, and proud between them. “I want you inside me, Reid,” she gasped. “Please.”

He suddenly tensed, his breath leaking out in a long, unnerving hiss.

“What’s wrong?”

“Shit! I don’t have protection. Do you?”

“No,” she replied in dismay.

He shook his head on a sigh. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I’m happy to take care of you.”

“No, Reid. That’s not enough for me. I need you inside me.” After their heartfelt exchange, the prospect of anything less made her feel cheated.

He stared back at her in protracted silence, the tension of the moment stretching out.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “I promise you I’m safe, but—”

Safe? She almost laughed. With Reid Everett, safe was the last word that ever came to her mind. “I’m certain,” she replied. “I want to feel all of you and I want you to feel all of me. All or nothing, right? I want you to come inside me, Reid.”

His pupils flared, darkening his irises to cobalt. “Sweetheart, if you want a bareback ride, I’ll make a cowgirl out of you yet.”

She threw her head back on a cry of pleasure as he pierced and filled her. They merged and melded with mingled moans and synchronous sighs. Kissing, nipping, groaning, and gasping, they embraced the sweet, wet friction. Harder. Deeper. Careening into a climax as pure and primordial as their surroundings.

*

Hours later, after making love again, they lay in joined sleeping bags, gazing up at a nighttime sky exploding with brilliant stars. Haley had never felt more content, or more in harmony with the world. Everything was so right when it was only the two of them. It was only when the outside world came crashing in that things always fell apart.

But they wouldn’t be alone forever. Once they went back, would they discover that it was all just a delusion? Would their differences lead to constant discord and strife?

“Reid?”

“What, Runt?” He nuzzled into her hair.

“What’s going to happen when we get back? You know I don’t fit into your world.”

“I’m not asking you to.”

“Do you think your family will accept me?”

“They will if they want to be part of our lives,” he replied solemnly.

“Are you going to go back to outfitting?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is there something else you want to do instead?”

“I don’t know that either, although I have a few ideas.” He ran his tongue around the shell of her ear.

“Like what? You need to stop that now, Reid. This is a serious discussion. Tell me what you’ve been thinking about.”

He shook his head. “Not yet. It’s a bit premature to discuss. I want to do a bit of research first.”

“Don’t be so mysterious,” she persisted.

“That’s me,” he remarked dryly. “Mr. Enigma.”

“C’mon, Reid,” she cajoled. “Tell me. Maybe I can even help. Research is very much what I do, remember?”

“You truly want to know?”

“Yes!”

“It’s going to be really anticlimactic now.”

“I want to hear it,” she insisted.

“All right. Maybe you do, especially since it concerns wolves.”

She regarded him quizzically. “Wolves?”

“Yes. I’ve been thinking a lot, Haley. This whole situation has gotten so far out of hand. There’s gotta be a better, more proactive method of managing it. A lot of folks seem to think the silver bullet is killing more wolves, but reducing their numbers is only a partial solution. As long as there are any wolves, they’re gonna compete with hunters and threaten livestock. That’s a real problem when people are fighting just to make ends meet.

“But there are programs in place—”

“But they don’t always work. You gotta understand how it is with ranchers, Haley. Once they move their cattle out to summer range, they only do spot checks a few times a week, sometimes less. They can’t afford to spend all day babysitting cows. On the other hand, if they aren’t around to witness a predator attack, they may never find the carcass to report. No carcass means no reimbursement.”

“I understand that, but what more can we do that we aren’t already doing?”

“Ever heard of range riders?” he asked.

Her forehead wrinkled. “Aren’t they just cowboys?”

“They’re the old-school kind, the kind that stay with a herd for the entire grazing season, moving cattle around, doctoring whatever needs to be doctored, and watching out for the stock. They don’t kill predators, but they do haze with rubber bullets, flash rounds, or shellcrackers. Some of the big commercial cattle operations use them to minimize losses while grazing stock on public lands.”

“So where are you going with all this?” she asked.

“I’d like to start a range rider program and recruit returning vets. There’re a lot of good men and women out there who are having trouble adjusting to civilian life. And a lot of them can’t find jobs. They already have survival skills and arms training. They just need to learn about the livestock. It’s only a seasonal gig and wouldn’t pay a whole lot, but it could give people who need it time to decompress and get their heads together, just like I have out here in the wilderness.” He added with a dry laugh, “When all I’ve had is my own company, it hasn’t taken me long to figure a lot of shit out.”