Impulsion, Page 6

  “What’s she talking about?” Wyatt asked under his breath as Harley dismounted and they began to walk back to the barn so the next lessons could come in. If it were any other day, she would have stayed in the ring with those riders, but when Danny Boy had an off day Camille would not let him in the ring with the smaller hoses, the newer riders.

  “My dad wants him with me at school. He doesn’t think I’ll make it back here as much for the next few years.”

  “You mean after next summer, right?”

  Harley looked away, then down, trying to hide the tears that were welling in her eyes.

  “That’s why, isn’t it? You’re not ready...you just think it’s our last chance.”

  She didn’t have a chance to respond; Ava was at her side, asking how her ride went, if she really fell off.

  It was hours later when she was leading in the rescue horses from the back paddock with both Wyatt and Truman that she had a chance to dare a response to that question that had been lingering in her mind.

  She knew Wyatt was mad, hurt, and he had no cause to be. At first she thought maybe that was her reason, too, but the more she thought of it, she realized it was more of a confirmation that the time was right. If they had a thousand summers left, she would still want to connect with him that way, mark her life with the essence of him.

  “That’s not why,” she said quietly as she walked down the gravel pathway, leading her favorite mare, Stolen Heart.

  Truman was in the next field, trying to catch the last mare.

  “You’ve been tense, skittish all summer. I thought you just had a bad spring, that your mom was giving you hell. You dealt with this alone.”

  “What good would it do for us both to fear the end of this summer?”

  “What good would it do?” he nearly shouted. In a lower voice, he said, “Harley, I see no divide between you and me. Your problems are mine. You blocked me out. Now we have no time.”

  “Time for what? This changes nothing but the fact that you know that it’s going to be harder for the next little while.”

  “For the next few years,” he said with a locked jaw. “We could have done something, plot, plan, anything.”

  “I’m going to work it out. A million things can happen between now and next summer.”

  “When were you going to tell me? When the trailer rolled up in the barn driveway?”

  “Before.”

  “Before what?”

  She looked away, trying to hide the pain in her eyes. She felt his hand lace through hers, the leather of the lead ropes brushing against their flesh. “Harley, if I knew, I would have done whatever I could to make you stronger - not only enough to deal with your mother, but to ride Danny Boy, to keep you safe. I was taking my time, letting you find your own way so you would never forget, but if I knew we were out of time, I would have—I would have done something.” He squeezed her hand. “If they were already going to rip us apart, I wouldn’t have walked on glass; I would have stolen more time.”

  Her eyes met his, fell deep within. “No distance or time is ever going to change the way I feel about you. I wanted this summer to be perfect, and it has been. I don’t want to fight. I forget about it when we’re together, when I feel this, when I know that it’s strong enough to face whatever test we are given…don’t take that away from me.”

  He squeezed her hand and pulled the horse he was guiding closer, long enough that it shielded him, giving him enough time to bring her hand to his lips. Before having no other choice than to let it go, he heard his brother open the gate and start to make his way on the path they were on. “I’m not going anywhere, Harley. I will always be your safe place.”

  The next few days, it was hard to get away at night. It seemed like both Camille and Beckett stayed up later than usual, either that or Ava constantly had friends spending the night. But finally one night, the house was asleep by eleven.

  Harley locked her room door, and for good measure she moved the pillows on her bed to make it look like she was lying there. She then climbed out her window onto the balcony, moved her legs over it, and began to scale down. Wyatt was on the ground, bracing to catch her if she fell, even though he knew she had done this too many times to slip.

  He took her hand, and they disappeared into the shadows. The four-wheelers and Jeep were too loud to use this late at night, but the golf cart was nice and quiet. Wyatt had parked one by the edge of the fence, and they climbed in and made their way to the creek. The entire way, Harley’s heart was racing. They hadn’t spoken about any end or crossing any line since their fight, if you could even call that a fight.

  She had no idea what to expect as he laid out the blanket on the bank of the creek; that was their normal routine. The sounds of nature were screaming around them, and the stars were thick above them.

  She laid on his shoulder, just as she had done a million times before.

  “How long does she want to keep you abroad?” he asked finally.

  Harley had gone round and round with her mother about her future - well, at least she would always find an excuse not to take the path she wanted her to.

  “A summer was the last I heard.”

  “What was it before that?”

  “She wanted me to take at least a semester over there.”

  “For what?” He nearly cussed the words, which didn’t put Harley any more at ease.

  Harley’s first thought was to become a veterinarian. From the way she gasped, you would have thought she’d told her mother she wanted to be a waitress. In the end, her mother - with her father backing her - convinced Harley that she could do more for animals if she entered law, business, that if she did so she would have more power when she began charities for animal rights.

  Harley knew the education was just a ruse; all in all, her mother never expected her to work a day in her life. She wanted her to have a vibrant resume that said she studied abroad, that she spoke so many languages and was educated in such a manner, but that wasn’t for a career; that was to become a wife, a wife of some powerful man that would further extend the family’s wealth, maybe even some kind of fame.

  Harley told her father - and meant it - that she did not want to study abroad because she would be too far from him, that she wanted to be close. He agreed with her, so her mother was reasoned down only to taking Harley away for a summer at best. But that was only after she argued that Harley could not wait for her father to pass away to begin her life, that she should give him the pleasure of knowing she was well cared for before that point.

  “Experience, I guess.”

  “When are you going to know for sure?”

  “Maybe in a few months. I still have time to talk her down to a few weeks, could argue that I want to ride while I still have the chance.”

  She winced, moving her shoulder. Today was a hard ride. Basically, she was thinking too much now, trying to figure out how to be naturally calm.

  Wyatt seemed to feel that pain. He rolled her to her side and moved his hand across her back, her shoulders, working out the tension. “I don’t know that this hard ground is helping you.”

  “If he can read me so well, how does he not know how to read that I need him not to pull?”

  “A different langue,” he said quietly as he landed a kiss on her shoulder. He rolled her to her back, moved himself between her legs. Harley’s heart quickened, and he smiled shyly, landing a sweet kiss on her lips as her hands moved to his face, caressing him.

  His lips left hers, and one hand reached for the hand she had on his face. “Soft hands,” he breathed. She blushed. His hand moved back to her thigh, pulled it closer to his waist. “Strong legs.”

  She laughed aloud.

  “I’m serious,” he said just before his lips connected with hers. Her legs didn’t tighten around him as he deepened that kiss, as he moved into the cradle of her body. “Stronger,” he whispered against her lips as his hand reached back for her thigh once more, sliding closer, edging to the warmth of her.


  Her hands continued that soft sway on his face, his shoulders and chest as she devoured his kiss.

  “Stronger,” he said again as his lips moved from her lips, past her chin, leaving slow, passionate kisses across her neck, daring to display more seduction with the flesh of his lips each time.

  She squeezed him with her thighs, but not with all her strength; he was powerful, but the idea of hurting him, or even stopping them, was keeping her to a seductive hug with her legs, especially since she could feel his hand moving ever closer to the part of her body that was craving him.

  “Stronger,” he said against her neck as he rocked into her, as that hand moved even closer. She squeezed him with all of her strength, and he barely gasped as he moved her hands above her head; every time she would tighten her grip, he would loosen it, caress her palms.

  She had no idea how he was doing it, but he seemed to be everywhere. His hands were soft, his lips were fierce, and his body was moving at a rhythm against her all at once.

  His lips rose from her neck, and one hand left hers and trailed down her arm, her shoulders, her chest. “Don’t think about one thing when you ride; think about nothing, just be. Feel the sensations, dance with the rhythm, give, take.” That hand of his moved back to her thigh, so close to where she wanted him.

  She was trying to hear his words, but her heart was racing; right now, she was thinking too much. Any time before she had told him she was ready, her mind would have been numb at this point, her body would have been running the show, she would have been fighting him for control, they would have rolled off the blanket they were on more than once. But right now, all she could do was focus on his hand as it moved away from her thigh and up to slip beneath her shirt and caress her skin. Every time her legs would loosen, he would move his hand to her thigh to tell her to tighten them again, dare to let the tips of his fingers slide beneath her shorts, brushing the silk of her panties. He did the same with her hands. “Soft hands,” he whispered every time her hand gripped the one he was holding, which was bracing him above her.

  That game didn’t end; it intensified as his fingertips did make it past that silk barrier, as they stole her breath with each movement. It was killing her, but she kept her hand soft on his, and the one that was brushing through his hair only barely showed force.

  She felt the power of seductive energy inside her building with each touch of his deft fingers against her flesh, building, and building, and building even more.

  They had been here before, this was part of their rhythm, but even this had changed now; there was more want behind it, a deep desire to cross that line they had never touched, only brushed against.

  Wyatt felt her tense under him. His kiss slowed, then ended as his eyes met hers, but his hand didn’t stop. His deft fingers moved with her body, explored, and found new ways to drive her wild.

  Wyatt read every expression, every time her eyes would flutter closed for a brief second, when her breath would hitch, when she would move with his touch.

  All at once, she drew in a deep breath, her entire body grew tense, then a wave of energy moved across his hand. His lips met hers, then he swallowed the moan that was leaving her, devoured the sensation of her body. When he dared to break this kiss, against the flesh of her lips he whispered, “Impulsion.”

  That word that had been her curse in the ring had now taken on a new meaning. It wasn’t a demon of a skill she fought to obtain; it was a passion she wanted to feel over and over.

  A few heartbeats later, she pushed him to his back, deepened her kiss as her hands moved down his chest, past the rim of his jeans.

  Wyatt’s head was spinning. He was going to have to stop this soon. He’d yet to get any protection, and he doubted that Harley wanted him to take her on the bank of a creek with nothing but the night sky to hide them.

  He groaned as her touch stole his breath, as he felt her body move against his. Just as he was about to roll her back over to her back, do his best to slow them down, they heard distant dogs barking. That sound made both their hearts race, but not for any positive reason; it meant the dogs saw something around the farm, it meant someone would come to investigate.

  Wyatt was on his feet in a heartbeat, pulling Harley up with him. She fumbled with her clothes as he wound their blanket up as fast as he could, stuffing it in a trash bag, then into the base of a tree trunk.

  “You’re safe,” he said, taking her hand. A million ways to get back to the house without being seen were racing through his mind, along with a million excuses he could come up with for being out with Harley.

  When they got closer to the main barn, he stopped and listened. The dogs were not barking, and no new lights were on, but that didn’t mean anything. Wyatt’s father never used a flashlight when he went out, said that gave him away.

  A minute later, they saw truck lights coming down the main drive. The dogs started barking again. The truck belonged to one of Camille’s main barn hand’s girlfriends. Johnnie lived in the back house. They were sure she had just dropped him off.

  They waited in the darkness, watching the house, the barn, the fields, everything, before Wyatt took her hand and moved her through the shadows. Just before she climbed to her room, his lips met hers; he gave her a deep kiss, then pulled away and lifted her. He didn’t move until he knew she was safe, then he took off like the speed of light running to his apartment in the main barn.

  Harley watched with a thundering heart from her window, waiting for his signal. The second she saw a flash of light move across his window, she knew he’d made it safely, that Truman had never awoken.

  It took her forever to fall asleep that night, to still her heart. When she did drift, in her dreams she spent the night on the bank of that creek, losing herself with Wyatt. Her body hurt, her heart hurt. She wanted him more than she wanted anything in the world.

  Chapter Five

  The next morning, Wyatt watched Harley’s ride from a distance, perched in the hayloft. He smiled every time he heard his mother praise Harley, every time he heard her say, “That’s it, soft hands, strong legs—good, there you go.” Once Harley was past that barricade, there wasn’t much to hold her back; she dominated that course.

  He only managed to brush his hands down her side as he helped her take the saddle off Danny Boy. “Those legs looked powerful out there.”

  Harley blushed, even laughed. “I have a good trainer. Taught me rhythm.”

  Two days later, it rained, all day. They knew it was coming, tried to plan something to keep everyone occupied, but by noon all the tack had been cleaned and the barn was settled. That was when Ava started to beg her mom to make Wyatt and Truman take all of them into town to shop, to go to the movies that night.

  Wyatt and Harley’s stare met as Ava made her plea, as Wyatt somewhat protested that he was not a babysitter or chaperone. This little outing had happened a few times since Wyatt had gotten his license.

  The thing was that none of them could agree on a movie to watch, which put them all in different theaters. It also gave Harley and Wyatt two hours to disappear, if not longer. There was a lookout point not far from the center where the theater and shops were. They had made their way there a time or two; in fact, some of their biggest firsts had happened there.

  They didn’t have to worry about distant dogs barking, someone walking around the corner or yelling their names, or discovering they were not in their beds. It was two hours of uninterrupted time alone. Heaven.

  From the way Ava was laying out her argument, it was sure to be even longer. She wanted to shop, wanted to eat in the food court and not go to a movie until nine.

  “Harley, you want to come. I know you do. You can get more books, get whatever,” Ava pleaded. She was hoping that even if Wyatt told her no, she could get Harley to take her.

  All Harley did was smile.

  “Wyatt, son. She’s driving me mad. I’ll fill your truck up,” Camille said without looking up from the magazine she was reading.


  Most times Camille filled his truck anyway, but in a way that was his payment for the rides he had done. A free tank of gas, at least two hours alone with Harley, and all he had to do was drive his sister all over town to pick up her friends—it was hard to look as if he were put out.

  “I’m not picking up Dorcas,” was his only protest.

  Dorcas was old enough to drive but didn’t have a car. She had managed to become one of Ava’s ‘best friends,’ even though she was older. Ava was hanging out with her for the obvious reasons; she wanted to learn all about boys, how to flirt, the makeup, the clothes, all things Harley would not or could not teach her. Dorcas was hanging out with Ava for reasons that were apparent to Harley; it put her close to all the Doran boys. Harley’s mother called girls like Dorcas gold diggers, yet most of the girls Harley knew back home like Dorcas were far less obvious.

  “Truman can,” Camille said, closing her magazine. “Ya’ll get ready. I’ll send Beckett to the bank to get some cash.”

  Getting ready to go shopping and to a movie should not be hard, but it was for Harley. She knew from the look in Wyatt’s eyes that she was getting ready for more than that, at least she hoped. She changed her summer dress a million times over, finding something about each one that would hinder her down the road.

  She was standing on the front porch, watching the trucks in the distance. Easton was at Wyatt’s apartment, but that wasn’t odd; Kate was sure to go out with Ava tonight. What was odd was that he had dropped Kate off at the house, and now he and Wyatt were having some kind of pow wow in the barn.

  “I want to eat at that new Chinese place,” Ava was saying.

  “What time is the movie? I want to pick up some new earrings,” Kate was saying.

  “Not ‘til nine. Dorcas said she would go with us to buy makeup so we could learn to make it look natural.”

  Harley smirked at that; nothing about any of Dorcas’ makeup skills was natural, no doubt there.