Chapter 18
INDYA
Age Nineteen
The windows of West’s truck were fogged white. My mouth hovered over his as I straddled his thighs, his cock buried deep inside my body.
“That’s it, baby.”
I loved it when he called me baby. Like I was more than just the woman screwing him in his old pickup.
His hands gripped the underside of my ass, his biceps straining as he helped me move up and down.
My legs were trembling. My heart raced. Every time I sank down on his lap, he’d hit that spot inside that made my breath hitch.
I closed my eyes and let the feel of West block out everything else.
It hadn’t been like this last year. Our night together had been sweet and
gentle. This?
We were fucking.
And I loved it.
“West.” My fingertips dug into his shoulders. The control I had over my body snapped, and I moved on instinct, rocking against him harder.
Faster. I was close. So close.
“Oh, fuck, yes. Ride me, Indy. Just like that.” He brought a hand between us, finding my clit with his finger.
The moment he began circling, I detonated on a cry. Tingles.
Electricity. Fire. They coursed through my veins, mingling and melding, the sensation so overpowering that a string of incoherent sounds escaped my throat. Waves of pleasure slammed into me, over and over again.
Blood rushed in my ears, so loud I barely registered West’s groan as he
gave in to his own release.
Wow. That was . . . wow.
When the fuzzy edges began to fade, when reality came creeping back in, I was slumped against West’s body.
His head was against the back of the seat, his eyes closed as he breathed heavily. His Adam’s apple bobbed, and the movement was so sexy I kissed his throat.
The corners of his mouth turned up as a hand dived into my hair.
“Are you sure you have to leave tomorrow?”
I sighed. “Unfortunately.”
His cock twitched inside me, and my inner walls clenched in response. West hissed and sat up straight. After a quick kiss, he lifted me off his lap, then spun me to sit before he popped the door and hopped out to deal with the condom.
I plucked my panties from the floor, then shimmied them on and righted the skirt of my sundress. Turned out, dresses weren’t all that bad.
Then I relaxed against the truck’s seat, watching as he clasped his belt.
“That’s a new buckle.”
Yesterday, he’d been wearing one with a bucking horse. This one had the ranch’s CMC brand embossed in silver and gold. The metal gleamed in the afternoon sun.
“It just got delivered last night. I ordered it a few months ago.”
“It’s so shiny. Maybe I should get a belt buckle.”
West chuckled. “Because you’re such a cowgirl.”
“I could be a cowgirl.”
He arched an eyebrow and pointed to my flip-flops.
I giggled. “Okay, no belt buckle.”
“For the record, I like that you’re not a cowgirl.”
“You’re not into cowgirls?”
“Not really. I’m into you.”
A blush crept onto my cheeks as we stared at each other.
He looked gorgeous standing in the middle of a green meadow, the grass trampled beneath his boots. There wasn’t a soul for miles. West had brought me far up into the mountains today, away from prying eyes.
Up here, it was easy to let myself forget it was our last day. To pretend that tomorrow, I wasn’t leaving for Texas with my parents. That
tomorrow, West wouldn’t carry on with his life without me.
But tomorrow, I’d be gone.
He’d drive this dusty old truck down the gravel road of his life.
I’d be in my Mercedes, racing down the freeway of my own.
It wasn’t fair that our roads crossed only once a year.
“I wish—” I stopped myself before I could finish that sentence.
“You wish what?” West walked over, then planted his hands on the seat and leaned in to brush his lips across my cheek.
“Nothing.” I kissed the underside of his jaw. “We’d better go back.
Before my parents finish their hike.”
“Yeah.” He dropped his forehead to mine but otherwise didn’t move.
What if this wasn’t the end? What if one of us changed paths?
He had one year left of college. What was he going to do after graduating? Would he ever want to leave Montana?
I still had three years to go, but I didn’t have to stay at Baylor. What
if I went to Montana State too?
What if.
There weren’t any what-ifs.
West wasn’t going to leave Montana. He wasn’t going to move too far away from this ranch.
Just like I wasn’t going to leave Texas. I wouldn’t put thousands of miles between myself and my parents.
Dad was doing well. The medicine was working, and life was pretty much normal. But cancer never went away. It was that constant gray cloud above our heads, and as much as I wanted to be with West, I wanted to stay close to my father more.
So I framed West’s face in my hands and kissed him one last time.
Then I let him drive me down the mountain.
Somehow, we’d managed to sneak off at least once a day to be
together. Seven days of West.
This was the best vacation of my life.
“I had fun this week,” I told him.
“Me too.” He took my hand, lacing our fingers together and driving
with one hand.
“Don’t forget about me.”
“Never.”
Maybe he wouldn’t, but I wasn’t naive enough to think he stayed single, pining for me to return each summer.
But just the thought of leaving him, of losing him, made my insides churn.
He might not wait for me. But I’d waited for him.
No one but us knew we’d had sex last year. I hadn’t told any of my friends. West had just been mine.
And maybe it was because I’d held him so close that there hadn’t been room for anyone else. None of the boys at school compared. They measured short whenever I stacked them against West.
So I’d spent the past year focusing on school, ending both semesters with perfect grades. Some weekends I would go to a party, but mostly, I drove home. I spent my weekends with my parents.
I doubted this year would be much different.
Maybe that was pathetic. I didn’t really care. All the girls in my dorm were hyperfocused on guys, and I just . . . wasn’t.
Because every year, more and more of my heart seemed to linger in Montana, long after our vacations ended.
When the lodge came into view, I fought the urge to cry.
“We didn’t get enough time,” I whispered.
West lifted my knuckles to his mouth for a kiss, then let me go before anyone could see us. He parked outside the lodge, then twisted to face me. “Bye, Indy.”
“Bye, West.” I took a mental picture of him leaning against the steering wheel and added it to the collection I’d amassed this week.
West doing a double take when I’d walked into the barn on our first day here. West waiting outside my bedroom window that night with a handful of wildflowers. The smile on his face when I’d shown up for the trail ride he was leading. The way he’d looked in the meadow earlier.
God, I would miss him. Was that silly? We saw each other once a year at most. He didn’t know that my favorite color was yellow. I didn’t know if he ate his french fries with ketchup or with ranch or plain.
But he was my West. He might not have lived in Texas, but he’d
been there with me all the same.
He lived in my heart.
The lump in my throat started to choke me, so I pushed the door open and climbed out before he could see the sheen of tears in my eyes.
Then with a wave, I jogged from the truck toward the cabin.
The toe of my flip-flop caught on a rock, and I tripped, catching myself at the last second.
When I glanced back at the truck, West was shaking his head as he
laughed.
I laughed too.
I laughed until I made it into the cabin.
Then I cried.
