With Country Chicks... -hot — My Wild Sexy Summer

June was nothing like her cousins. Daisy was a wildfire. Savannah was a deep river. June? June was lightning in a jar. She pushed me onto a saddle rack and took control in a way that left me breathless and begging. She was loud, unapologetic, and wild. She bit my shoulder hard enough to leave a mark.

Or stay.

“You taste like sunshine,” she murmured against my neck. My Wild Sexy Summer With Country Chicks... -HOT

Two days later, I was speeding down a dusty gravel road in rural Kentucky, my Audi scraping against potholes the size of small moons. The GPS died. My cell signal was a ghost. And that’s when I saw her.

She had a smile that was equal parts challenge and invitation. And that’s when I knew—this wasn’t going to be a summer of mending fences. This was going to be a summer of getting unmended . The farm was called “Whispering Pines,” and it was run by Daisy and her two cousins, Savannah and June. Three country chicks who could throw a bale of hay heavier than me, gut a fish without flinching, and still smell like vanilla and wildflowers at sundown. June was nothing like her cousins

I lied. I said I grew up on a ranch in Montana.

“You think I don’t know?” she said, her green eyes blazing. “I see the way Savannah looks at you. I smell Daisy’s perfume on your shirt every morning.” She was loud, unapologetic, and wild

“Then let me teach you something, city boy.”