by Ella James
“I’ve been told.” I kiss his chin. Then I yawn, suddenly sleepy, and he reaches over me to grab a corner of one of the blankets. His palm strokes my arm before he spreads the fleece over us. “You’re cold.”
“And tired.”
I feel a brush of his lips over my hair. “Close your eyes for just a second.”
Chapter 25
June
Sleepy…comfy…warm. I’m being carried. I note these things from a vague distance, each step jostling me—but not enough to make me open my eyes. Then things shift, and I’m completely vertical.
“June?”
I feel the floor under my feet and strong arms around my waist. Something hard is right behind me. There’s a gold light that’s too bright, and a faint breeze. Pictures stream through my mind—memories. And then I know where I am.
“Hey, honey.” Burke is standing behind me, his arms wrapped around me. His lips are near my ear, so I can hear him when he murmurs, “The sun’s coming up. I should probably go back to your brother’s place before they wake up.”
I squint and blink around the screened porch, finding that the black of night has given way to deep pink with the rising sun, which hasn’t quite spilled through the trees yet. I glare at the bright light of the porch lamp.
“Okay.” I rub my tired eyes, and Burke turns me around to face him. He’s smiling, which makes me smile and feel kind of shy. He leans down to kiss my cheek…and then my lips, and then we’re kissing and I’m holding onto him. He’s got me pressed against him. We can’t let go. We kiss and break away and step back three times in a row—each time moving back into each other’s arms. After the third time, he smooths his palm over the back of my hair and rasps, “Bye.”
I look over my shoulder just in time to see the small smile on his lips before he turns toward the porch door.
BURKE
I try to wait a little while to text her. In the end, I only wait an hour and a half before I send a picture of my hand around a fish. I had forgotten Shawn and I were going fishing in a pond behind his house this morning. We catch twelve small fish called crappies, and I manage not to fall asleep or say anything about June—although she’s all I think about.
Two hours after we set off in a little motor boat, we return it to the muddy pond shore, and Shawn takes me by Hardees for a “good ole artery cloggin’ biscuit,” which tastes better than I expected. We shoot the shit about football, with some lulls of silence between conversation. I feel half asleep as he drives us back toward his place.
“Wild night,” he says, shaking his head. “You fell asleep early. Or did you go do some work?”
“I didn’t get enough sleep,” I evade. “That’s for damn sure.”
Back at his place, I go to the room that’s mine for now and stretch out on the bed. This feels surreal—everything about last night.
While she slept on my chest in the back of her truck, I never even closed my eyes. Just laid there thinking, looking at the stars. I replayed what she said about her mom, and my reaction to it. It surprises me how I reacted—and I know she noticed. Usually I’ve got that shit pushed so far back, it doesn’t bubble to the surface. But things are different with her. I find that it doesn’t bother me as much as it might.
Still, it’s something I try not to think about, so having all that dust kicked up in my head makes me feel a little off.
I try to do some work, but I can’t rip my mind away from her. Gabe calls once, then texts me—call back—but…I don’t. I pace around the room, then shower, thinking about her hands and mouth and little throaty whispers. I feel different than I ever have before. It’s just…this rush.
I wonder if she feels it, too. I check my phone; she hasn’t replied. I pull on some clothes, and when I look again, there’s a text.
Hey there. I was sleeping. You went fishing… ;)
Yeah. We caught 12.
She waits a few minutes to reply—and I can see her typing. When the message comes through, I feel it like an electric jolt: When will I see you again?
Rather than reply, I get in Shawn’s Jeep and drive over. It’s a bright, clear morning with a soft breeze and birds chirping and a hazy kind of sunlight that contributes to the feeling that I’ve stepped into a dream.
By the time I park in her yard, my hands are sweating, and my heart is pounding like I’m in eighth grade. I walk slowly to the porch and stand there for a long moment before pulling the screen door open.
JUNE
I wake up grinning, and I can’t stop. The photo he texted is the first thing I see when I pick my phone up. I don’t reply to him for half an hour because I just want to savor this.
Burke texted me when I was sleeping. I was with him last night. He ran his hand over my hair as he left here this morning—at dawn—and that was after we kissed goodbye three times.
It’s wild and crazy stuff. Which means it’s smarter not to think too much about it.
I debate my next move only for a moment. Then I send a text that asks when I’ll see him again. If anybody knows how dangerous this is, it’s me, but I can’t seem to help myself.
I shower and throw some clothes on—my favorite soft white shirt and jean shorts—and pad out into the living room to hug the kids and thank Leah for letting me sleep in.
“Any time, babe. Auntie gotta get her Zs where she can.”
Latrice bustles in the door a minute later, her dreads piled high on her head, carrying a bag of popcorn and a plastic bag of uncooked pasta. I give her a wonky, silly frown.
She tilts her head at me in reply.
“Did you bring us some carbohydrates?” I ask.
“Did you bring me some attitude?”
She turns and rolls her eyes at Leah, and then holds her arms out to the kids. “All Latrice’s babies come and gather ’round.”
I join the kids at her side, teasing, “I’m one of your babies.”
“We don’t want you here, with that side-eye look you got on. We’ve got food to feed the piggies and some crackers for the goats.”
Turns out, pigs like popcorn and pasta. I put up a small fight—is she sure these foods are healthy for the animals?—but Latrice always wins. She shepherds the kids outside to feed Peppa, George, and P. Diddy and the newly re-named “bitches.”
“We’ll deal with the chickens and check on the horses next,” she calls over her shoulder as they go out the back door of the laundry room. “I’m needing a break.”
As they walk off, I notice that her boots are muddy. I told her not to worry with our broken disc plow until Monday when Burke had left and I could help, but I bet that stubborn hussy didn’t listen.
I check my texts there in the privacy of the now-defiled laundry room, disappointed to find that Burke hasn’t replied. I try to brace myself for if he doesn’t, but the truth is, I can’t imagine that he won’t.
I step into the den, and Leah turns off Netflix and waves me toward the hall. “Come talk to me while I shower.”
Leah is the danger zone. If I shut myself up in the bathroom with her, I’ll spill all, and telling her will make things more real. But if I put up a fuss, she’ll really know something’s up—so I go with her.
Luckily for me, I hear—really, I feel—the screen door slam a minute after she turns on the shower.
“I’m going to check on that,” I tell her as she steps in. “Just to be sure it isn’t Shawn and Co.”
“I know you’ll be sooo disappointed if it’s Shawn and Burke,” she calls as I go.
Brat.
I find him standing in my kitchen. He’s facing the refrigerator, which means my first glance of him is his broad back, covered by a white T-shirt. His neck is tanned—maybe sunburned—and his longish hair is curling just slightly above his collar.
I make an effort to sneak up behind him, but he feels me at the last second and turns partway around. When our eyes catch, a grin lights up his whole face.
I come in close enough to wrap my arms around his shoulders. Then
I rub my palm over his scruff and run my fingers into his hair. I pull him down like I might kiss his mouth, but I don’t. I rub my forehead against his rough jaw and kiss him on the throat.
Then I draw away and smile up at him. “Hey there, Burkie baby.”
He laughs like he thinks I’m crazy, but when he smiles at me, it’s real and warm and happy.
“You’re sunburned.” I stroke my thumb over his cheekbone, touch a little curl just over his ear. “And you look exhausted.”
He seems almost shy as he looks down between us. “Sort of,” he says gruffly.
I can’t help wrapping my arms around his waist. I’m relieved when he folds me up against him and rests his cheek against the top of my head.
“You smell really good,” he whispers.
I squeeze him. “You feel really good.”
He sweeps me off my feet and spirits me into the laundry room, whose door is right beside the fridge and has never seen so much action before. I pull the door shut behind us, and he leans me against it. He cages me with his arms and nuzzles my shoulder, kissing my collarbone with his hot mouth, and then my throat.
“Damn,” he murmurs.
I run my fingers into his hair, hugging him to me. He kisses further up, just under my ear, where at first his mouth gives me chills; then it leaves me panting.
I grab onto his shoulder as I try to catch my breath.
“Damn you, June. All morning…couldn’t get a damn thing done for work.”
I stroke my hand down his abs, covered by his cotton T-shirt. When my fingers brush his pants, my hand bumps into his bulge. “I know what needs to get done.”
I think he tries to snicker, but he ends up grunting as I grab him. “Fuck.” He breathes hard as I trace the rim of him, and his whole body shudders.
“That’s right,” I murmur. I rub his erection through his dark green shorts, and he kisses my throat again. Then his lips find mine. His tongue glides into my mouth, and the whole world seems to speed up as we go at each other, my hand rubbing him, his fingers crawling up into my shorts from the pants leg, lifting my underwear and stroking where I need to be touched.
“Wait,” I gasp. I pull away from him and double-check the lock on the door that leads onto the back porch. Then Burke lifts me up and sets me up on top of the dryer. I wrap my legs around him, and we make out till I’m desperate with the need to get off.
He slips a finger into me and teases my hot spot with another gentle fingertip. Then he kisses me dizzy. My senses short out, and I’m groaning into his mouth. I come in a rush that nearly levels me and want to lie down and curl up and sleep, but he’s still straining at his pants.
I’ll have to fix that.
“Sit on the floor with your back against that door,” I order, pointing to the door that leads into the kitchen.
He gives me an amused grin but does it. I get on my knees in front of him, unbutton his shorts, and wrap my fingers around his long erection.
“God, you’ve got the perfect dick.” I bend down and wrap my tongue around the tip of it, and give his shaft a few slow strokes, taking him a little deeper as my hand moves down and drawing him out as my fist moves up. I don’t even have time to find a good rhythm before he groans as he comes, with a thrust and a tremble of his hips.
His hand is fisting my hair. He laughs as he lets me go, but he can’t stop panting.
“Fuck, June, that was so good. I was ready.”
I grin and brush a kiss over his lips. Then I ruffle his hair. I smile, and he smiles back, and there are actual butterflies in my belly, just like in the romance novels.
I kiss his cheek, and he looks down again, like he’s not quite sure what to make of my attention. “I like you like this,” I whisper.
“How?” he asks, the word a rumble.
“Cuddly and shy and un-Burke-like.”
“I’m not cuddly.” But he’s grinning, and he still looks sleepy, like a bear emerging from some hibernation.
“You are, too.” I stand up and hold a hand out, as if I can help him to his feet. “Come with me. And hurry.”
He lets me pretend I’m pulling him up. Then I lead him through the kitchen and into the living room, past Leah, who—oh, shit!—is sitting on the couch eating an apple. Her whole face stretches in shock as I drag Burke past her down the quiet hall. He chuckles darkly as I pull him into my room.
“Lie on the bed, boy toy.”
He looks around the room, as if he thinks someone might be hiding in a corner, but he does what I say, kicking his flip-flops off before hoisting himself up atop the duvet.
I walk over to the bedside, riffling around my nightstand drawer for…this. I hold up a white bottle, twist the top off, and shake a small pill out into my palm. I hold it up to his lips.
“Do you trust me?” I grin. “It’s a chewable, so nothing crazy.”
He laughs as if he thinks I’ve lost my mind—which I probably have.
When I move the pill toward his mouth, he opens for me. I set the small, white tablet on his tongue, holding his gaze as he closes his lips around my fingers. I pull them out one by one, suppressing a shiver.
“Let that dissolve.” I put my hand on his chest, urging him to lie back on my pillows. Then I pull the covers over him and make a silly show of tucking them around his big, hard body.
“And now close your eyes.”
He does as I ask, but he takes a deep breath, like it costs him something.
I smooth his hair back off his forehead and trace his thick brows with my fingertips. Then I reach over to my nightstand and turn on the little white noise machine beside my landline phone.
“Keep your eyes closed,” I murmur. “And think about me sliding under the covers beside you. Put your hand here—” I take his big, thick hand and spread it over his heart— “and just feel yourself breathe.”
I lean down and kiss his cheek. “I’ll be back.”
When I check on him in fifteen minutes, he’s asleep.
Chapter 26
Burke
I wake to the sensation of something heavy on my lap…and someone’s hands in my hair. June. She smells so damn good. I smile as she rubs her cheek against mine. I can feel her smile back.
“I’m your stubble’s biggest fan.” She kisses my temple, and I lift my heavy eyelids.
Her brown eyes are soft on mine, her face more gentle than I’ve ever seen it. “How do you feel?” she murmurs.
I blink around her room. Still daylight. “Did I fall asleep?” My voice is hoarse. I clear my throat, looking around for a clock.
“Yeah, you slept a while. It’s just a little after one.” I watch as she reaches for the nightstand, grabs a Ball jar glass, and brings its straw to my lips. I close my eyes and take a swallow of what tastes like lemon water.
Now that my eyes are closed, it’s hard to pry them open again. When I sleep, I tend to be too slow at waking. I feel June messing with my covers. Then I feel the mattress indent and the blankets lift off me as she slips into bed beside me.
She wraps both of her arms around me, rubs her face against my shoulder, and folds a leg over mine.
I feel a strange surge of longing—like some kind of want of more June…even as I’m wrapped in her arms in this moment.
“Did you dream?” she whispers against my neck.
“Yeah.” I press my cheek against her fruity-smelling hair and let a breath out.
What are the odds—that she makes me feel this good, just curling up beside me?
“Was it nice?” she murmurs.
“I don’t know.” I give a little laugh, despite myself. “What was that stuff?”
“It’s called GABA. It’s like a relaxant. For exhausted, sexy workaholics.”
She finds one of my hands, lacing her fingers through mine. My heart starts to beat a little faster.
“Where is everybody?” I say in a voice that sounds tight.
“I sent the kids with Leah.”
“So she knows?”
> “Yeah. I’m sorry. She won’t tell Shawn, if that’s your next question.”
“No…don’t be sorry.” I turn to face her, end up kissing her, running my hands into her soft hair. God, I want her.
June reads my mind. She hops down off the bed and strips her clothes off piece by piece, twirling her panties around her finger before tossing them behind her with a laugh. And then she straddles my hips.
It’s so fucking erotic, so damn sexy…I let myself get lost inside her, lost along with her, and I when I finally finish, I don’t think I’ve ever come so hard. Afterward, we lie in her bed, and this time I hold her against me, tracing patterns on her back with careful fingers.
“You’re so good it almost scares me,” I say. The words roll out of my mouth before I can think to stop myself.
“Why?” she whispers, smiling slowly.
I can feel her eyes on my face, so I shut mine. “Like losing control.”
“We both did.”
I roll onto my side so we’re more fully facing one another. I trace her jaw and chin with one finger. “You good?”
“Of course.” She smiles. “Are you?”
“For sure.”
She shuts her eyes and snuggles closer, and I inhale deeply. There’s this moment where I feel things lift away—everything fades except her now-familiar face and her warm, soft body. Peace. Maybe that’s what this feeling is.
I shut my eyes, and she says, “There’s a place I want to take you. If you want to go. I thought we could ride the horses.”
JUNE
We ride maybe half a mile to the old white chapel. Burke seems somber—more so than I’ve ever seen him, and I wonder what that means. I feel his eyes on me almost the whole time, as we make our plodding journey. When Tango, my ride, trips on a rock, Burke and Lulu are a stride ahead of us, so I can see him blanch as he looks over his shoulder.
He shakes his head and gives a quiet laugh.