The Boy and His Ribbon (The Ribbon Duet, #1)(61)

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.

But it didn’t mean he wasn’t keeping tally.

During the busiest time of the year, when we had countless equestrians and fellow farmers coming to buy lucerne and meadow hay, and my life was a never-ending loop of cutting, fluffing, raking, baling, loading, and sowing, strange new possessions started appearing.

Patricia often stole Della to go with her and Cassie on shopping trips into town, and Della would return with sugar still rimming her pretty lips and her hands full of bags. She’d force me to sit on the bed as she tried on outfit after outfit, giving me a fashion show of colourful summer dresses, practical winter jackets, and frankly far too revealing swimsuits.

It was odd that the one-piece daffodil coloured swimsuit she wore whenever we’d swim in the river annoyed me more than skinny-dipping ever did.

There was something about the way it made Della switch from uncaring natural child to fledgling young woman who copied Cassie’s every move that made me look away as if I’d breached some sort of code by looking at her.

As Cassie prowled around in her black bikini with toned legs and perky breasts, Della would puff out her flat little chest and sunbake on flat rocks with her legs crossed in perfect imitation.

It made me uncomfortable but also indulgent.

I didn’t like to think of her trading innocence for whatever Cassie dabbled in, but I also couldn’t ignore that she was almost six years old—maybe already six years old, seeing as I didn’t know her birthday—and time was speeding up.

Every morning, she seemed to look different with a wiser glint to her gaze and harsher pinch to her lips if I annoyed her. She kept me on my toes—almost as much as Cassie did.

I struggled most days around Cassie, and my body was in a total flux of pain whenever we’d swim together. She’d pin me with an inviting stare, her body lithe and tempting and I’d have to turn my back to avoid revealing just how much she affected me.

Little Liam was the easiest to hang out with because all he cared about was lizards and helping his mother in the garden. He wasn’t growing up too fast or trying to lead me directly into sin.

Despite my growing awareness and steadily growing desire for what Cassie tempted, I loved working for the Wilsons. They were true to their word and among the many kindnesses they did for Della, they also ensured I had a treat now and again, too.

I did my best to ensure their farm ran as smoothly and productively as possible, and I guessed they appreciated it because one night, after a particularly gruelling day hauling hundreds of hay bales from the paddock and stacking them in the barn for winter feed, I lugged my tired, aching body to the one bedroom I shared with Della and heard music and voices coming from within.