I look down at myself, trying to see what he sees. I’m in bright pink tights. Un-sexy black ballet flats. My top has little ponies printed all over it. Yes, I am that girl. That dork of a girl who shops the sales rack at Forever 21 mostly to spite my mother. But also, because they have some freaking adorable clothes.
Not getting a response, he repeats himself, “Do you ride horses?” His hand brushes the shoulder of my top.
Oh. Ponies. Horse Riding.
“I ride, I ride hard,” I smirk. “But not horses.” I cover my mouth because I’m laughing. Because I literally just said that out loud to my sister’s fiancé’s brother. I know, completely inappropriate.
Samson is unfazed. “So, what do you like to ride hard, Ava Grace?”
His eyes narrow, and I think this is his version of flirting. Maybe living in the mountains has made him lose some of his game, or maybe he is one of those guys who thinks less is more.
It emboldens me.
“I like to ride things that are solid. Things that are big. Something that knows what to do with a girl like me.”
“A girl like you?” His dark eyes sparkle—in a way I didn’t even know brown eyes could—and he takes a step closer.
“Yeah,” I say leaning closer. “A girl like me. A girl who has no filter.”
“Why do we need a filter tonight?” He licks his lips, his question plain. Simple.
In the next millisecond, a thousand flimsy excuses run through my brain. But for some reason, they don’t seem like they would work on Samson. Telling him that my sister might get mad seems so inconsequential. The truth is, I want this. He’s letting me know he wants it too.
And I have literally nothing to lose. I don’t only wear ponies on my sleeve; my heart is there too. The universe is telling us something.
“I guess we don’t need a filter.”
The Uber pulls up, Samson opens the door without asking permission. Then he slides in after me.
The car speeds off, and I smile to myself, knowing this won’t be our only ride tonight.
3
Ava Grace is like a gust of wind. Like wildfire on the loose. She’s both a burning star and a fanning flame and I don’t think even she knows what she is.
And that’s okay because tonight we don’t need to know.
Tonight isn’t about figuring out our shit, tonight is about having good old-fashioned fun. And I can tell that this girl is a firecracker.
I watched her all through dinner. She didn’t think I was, but damn, there’s no way in hell I could keep my eyes off her.
She kept touching her hair, smoothing it down, as if she could tame the wildness that is in her.
When I heard she made jewelry, worked with gold, I could just imagine her soldering pieces together. Taking something unfinished and making it into a thing of beauty.
In the car, she positions her body to face me, and she is unabashedly eye-fucking me. This girl is gonna be the right kind of crazy in bed.
Damn, this night is going a hell of a lot better than I thought it would.
Ava Grace is fucking beautiful, that’s what she is. Her eyes are clear blue, big and round like sapphires. I’d stare at them all night, but I have a feeling her eyes are gonna be closed half the time, while she’s on her back, panting out her pleasure.
Sitting next to her in the car, I run my hands up and down her thighs. Truth is, I can’t keep my hands off her, and she seems to love the attention.
“You are making me so...” she starts, then blinks and shakes her head.
“So, what?” I press, not just my words. I press my hand between her thighs until I can feel her wetness through her tights. She is hungry.
She laughs nervously. “So horny, Sam. That’s what I am.”
She’s taking me to her place, says she has a thing about sleeping in her own bed at night, and I understand. This girl is more than just the free spirit she’d like everyone to believe she is. She’s been born and raised in a country club.
Her parents are filthy rich, and so she may want to be a starving artist, but deep down I can tell she’s used to more luxuries than she likes to let on.
I know that for a fact as we pull up to her condo. It’s a nice part of Denver; the sidewalks are clean, the street lamps are bright, and there’s no trash on the pavement. I follow her up the front steps and she unlocks the front door.
I don’t give her a hard time, though, about the obvious fact that her daddy pays for this place. And as she pushes open the door and leads me through the foyer into the living room, my hand is on the small of her back.