For the first time in a while, Roman woke with a smile on his face. Last night all his bullshit about cuddling had been blown to hell when he'd wanted Zoya pinned right next to him. He loved feeling the rhythm of her breathing against his chest. More than that, he loved how she begged. And she had. Three... no, four times throughout the night. A record for him. And every time was better than the last. He was getting hard just thinking about it.

Barn. Hay. Storm. First time he'd had that combination. Hell, screenwriters couldn't have written a more perfect scene. A few stalls over, she hummed as she worked. The sounds of a satisfied lover. And she had been, multiple times.

Today, she'd come home with him and forget all about leaving. And she understood the arrangement. Just sex. No strings. No promises. Someday, she'd find Mr. Right and forget all about him. He knew better than to think a girl like her would ever end up with a guy like him.

He rolled over and looked around for his clothes, then chuckled. There they were neatly folded and stacked.  He got dressed and went to join her. Busy with the goats, she didn't notice him, so he cleared his throat.

"Need some help?"

She turned to face him. All bright eyed and glowing. Damn if she hadn't gotten more beautiful overnight. "Do you know how to milk goats?"

"Never done it, but how hard can it be? All I do is wrap my fingers around a teat and squeeze, right?"

She took her bottom lip between her teeth. "You even make that sound nasty."

He whispered a laugh. "Not my intention, but I can see it got you going." He raised his brows as he zeroed in on the front of her tee-shirt, where her nipples stood at attention.

Crossing her arms, she covered both breasts with her hands. "You're terrible."

In two shorts strides, he had her in his arms. "That's not what you said last night. I remember you telling me how good I was. A lot."

She looked up at him. "You were good. A lot."

"I want to kiss you."

"Okay."

"Haven't brushed my teeth."

"One little kiss probably won't hurt."

[Mild Mature Themes]

She tiptoed to reach his mouth and kissed him like she meant it. Then her hands were everywhere. Under his shirt. At the top of his jeans. Lowering his zipper. And when she slipped her hand inside his boxers and wrapped her fingers around his erection, he groaned. God help him. She was going to kill him.

He abandoned her mouth, trailed his lips to her breast, and tortured the nipple through the thin fabric. He'd never wanted any woman the way he wanted her, and that was wrong. But with her wrapped around him, he couldn't wrap his brain around logic.

Within minutes, he had her naked, back in the hay going at him like a wild animal. And once he delivered what she wanted, he twisted her beneath him, and just like always, she welcomed him inside her small body. Arching to meet him. Lips demanding more. Legs coiled to bring him deeper.  And when he climaxed, he knew she'd tighten her legs to keep him inside her as long as possible. It happened every time, and when he broke the connection, she whimpered like he'd taken part of her with him.

[Mature Themes Over]

He fell back onto the hay gasping for breath. "You're going home with me today." It sounded like a command even to his ears.

"Okay."

He breathed a sigh of relief. He rolled to his elbow and trailed a finger down her cheek.

He pulled her close. "Tell me."

Her warm breath floated across his chest. "What?"

"Everything. What you're running from. Who's after you? All of it. Whatever it is, I'll protect you."

At first, he didn't think she would say anything. But then she drew a ragged breath and began. When she finished, he lay quiet for a moment dealing with the part that bothered him most. Finally, he spoke. "So, in eight months when you turn twenty-five, you're going back to Baton Rouge."

"Yes. I have to. Aunt Fiona wants to retire; she's only done it this long because my dad asked her too. So even if I don't want to run the company, I'll have to pick someone to take over."

"Can you do it? I mean, it's a big job and you..."

"I know what you're thinking. I'm young."

He shook his head. "No, that's not it. You don't have experience is what I meant."

"Dad and I talked about this before he died. You're right. I lack the skills to do it on my own, but I'm smart enough to hire people who can help me. It's my dad's company. His dying wish and I promised. I don't have a choice."

One thing she'd omitted in her story was the can of cash he'd found in her room. Wasn't sure why. Maybe she didn't completely trust him or figured he already knew. Either way, he'd heard the fear in her voice. Running a company was the last thing she wanted, but she wanted to respect her dad's wishes. He had built it from the ground up, and he'd want her involved. He shifted the conversation. "I don't think I've ever slept with an heiress before."

Her brows scrunched together. "That's what I am, isn't it? An heiress. Sounds funny."

"You mean you've never thought of yourself that way?"

"No."

"Guess that comes from always having money." It sounded harsher than he'd meant it too, and he winced.

She had a strange look in her eye, but said nothing. Roman wondered what was going on in her head. With her, he couldn't always tell, so he dropped it and moved on. "Earlier, why were you drawing me?"

"I thought you were asleep."

"Dozing."

"Oh. Well, I like taking drawing you."

He raised his eyebrows, already imagining himself splayed out on a couch wearing a fancy necklace. "Naked?"

"Yes."

"Why? My sketched ass isn't going to show up on the internet, is it?"

She rolled her eyes. "No. I'm an artist. I appreciate the beauty of a man's body. Or a woman's. They're just for me. Nobody else will see them."

He sat up and stretched. "Well, we'd better take care of these goats and get you home." Busy work. He needed it, because when she'd told him that in eight months she'd leave, something had twisted in his gut. Come this time next year, she'd be back in her world of money and power, and he'd still be in Arcadia. Without her.

Zoya heard it in Roman's voice when he'd said the word heiress, and again when he drew the conclusion about her always having money. Somehow, he thought less of himself because of it. He had no reason. It was true she'd never struggled financially, but money didn't mean anything to her. Even with a big bank account, Dad had taught her not to flaunt her affluence. He'd set a good example by giving much of his wealth away to inner-city schools and funding scholarships and she'd continue his legacy.

She hated the company was located in the one place Roman never wanted to live. Because of that, she saw no future for them. She fantasized about having one, but in her heart, she knew it was stupid. He'd made it clear Arcadia would always be his home. She'd make it hers too, if he asked. She'd hire people to keep St. Clair Steel going, and she'd chair the board. She had a private plane at her disposal and could fly back and forth.

God, she sounded like the characters on every cheesy soap opera Stella had watched. Stupid girl willing to give everything up for the man she loved. Big mistake. In soaps and life. She shook the ridiculous notion away, returned the chippy stool to the counter, and wrote the date on the milk container before sliding it into the cooler.

Outside, Roman threw a stick and tried to get Homer to fetch. He wasn't having much luck. The dog kept rolling over wanting his belly rubbed. Zoya couldn't help but laugh. She knew exactly how he felt. When she was with Roman, all she wanted was to roll around, too. Preferably, naked with him. It was all she thought about.

Roman appeared in the doorway. "You ready to go?"

"Am I a sex maniac?"

He bent with laughter, holding his sides.

"Not funny. There's something wrong with me. It's all I think about and that can't be normal." She slumped onto a chair. "I've always been weird, and now I'm perverted, too."

"It's completely normal. Nothings wrong with you," he told her gently. She didn't look convinced and instead adopted an expression Ophelia always tried to use as a kid to get her way. Roman tried to straighten, but it was no use. The way she came out of the left field with shit always caused him to crack up. Coupled with her pouty, indignant expression, he couldn't help himself.

"Stop it. This is your fault."

He struggled for breath, crossed the room, pulled her into his arms and got control. "You're fucking adorable. That's what you are." Then he tilted her chin until she looked at him. "Everybody goes a little nuts when they have great sex. Trust me, you're as normal as it gets in that department."

"Are you sure?"

"Definitely."

This is a little on the shorter side, since I usually break chapters in half if they're too long, and this was the only natural place to break.

TEASER: "You did mean something to me."

Wonder whose talking there?