by Maisey Yates
She was pretty as a picture, and his hands itched to touch her.
Any thoughts of being careful or discussing things faded as he stepped inside. She stood in the middle of her store, staring at him like he was some kind of bogeyman. But that changed, gradually, into a kind of grim determination. “We can’t tell anyone,” she said by way of greeting.
He could have pretended he didn’t know what she was talking about, but he didn’t. He raised an eyebrow as he walked toward her. “We can’t?”
“Okay, ‘anyone’ is relative because I will tell Hope, Charity, and Kit. But I mean, my brothers.” She didn’t back away like she had this morning.
Her eyes were wide, but there was a determined light in them. She looked up at him, licked her lips, and stood her ground.
“What exactly are you afraid of there? That they’re going to try to beat me up? I’ve got five brothers to back me up. I’ll be fine.”
She shook her head. “I’m not afraid. It’s not about fear,” she said. “Do you remember Marianne Fleming?”
Confused, Grant struggled to follow what she was saying because her tank top dipped low enough to give him a tantalizing glimpse of the soft swell of her breasts. “Marianne? JT’s ex?”
“Yes. And I got to be really good friends with her. She even came and visited me in California a few times. Kit and Charity and Hope were so far away and I thought I was finally finding a local friend again. Then she broke up with JT and it changed everything. I couldn’t forgive her for that.”
“Pru—”
“Your friendship with JT and Beau is deeper and longer and far more important than that friendship I had with Marianne,” she said earnestly. “I wouldn’t want it to be ruined because something happened here. And it could be. My brothers love me and are overprotective of me. They’re protective of you too. It’s too much when this is just about sex.”
Just about sex. No. There was more between them than just that kiss this morning.
“It’s more than sex, Pru.”
She looked like he’d slapped her. “No. I invited you here for sex.”
“And I’m telling you there’s more between us than sex, whether you like it or not.”
She shook her head. “Just kiss me again,” she demanded.
She seemed to think sidestepping the conversation changed it, but it didn’t. Not for him. “Why?”
“Because I am not afraid.” She proved it by grabbing his shirtfront and pressing her mouth to his without waiting for him to make the move.
It wasn’t quiet. It wasn’t testing or teasing. This morning had been born out of a feeling of...a new lease on life or something. Bright. Confident. Grabbing the good.
This was an explosion. Heat and need, like she’d poured every last careful look over the past few weeks into this moment. Into lips and tongue and teeth.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her long, lean body to his. She was close, but he pulled her closer. She kissed him deep, but he kissed her deeper. He wasn’t sure how they ended up pressed up against the back wall, but they were.
She raked her fingers through his hair. He slid his hands over every curve of her. He scraped his teeth over her bottom lip and she made a noise in the back of her throat that had his vision going hazy.
She was panting, and he wasn’t all that sure his heart hadn’t beaten straight out of his chest. He slid his hands under her shirt and groaned against her mouth. She was perfect. Soft and strong.
In some deep, very annoying part of his brain, alarm bells were clamoring. He didn’t particularly want to listen to them, but they were rather insistent. “Pru—”
She shook her head. “I want you, Grant.”
Alarm bells sufficiently quashed. “Here?” he asked her, aware that there was nowhere soft to lay her down.
But she was tugging at his T-shirt. “Yeah, here’s good. Here’s great.”
“I don’t have any—”
“I’m good. We’re good. Promise.” She pulled his shirt up and over his head and then undid the button of his pants and whatever else he’d been about to say was lost to the mist of need.
He pulled her shirt up and didn’t bother with the task of unclasping her bra, simply yanking it down.
“God, Pru.” She was like a delicacy he’d denied himself too long. So he tasted her. Everywhere he could reach standing here in the back of her store. Then they were pulling off each other’s clothes as best they could, like groping teenagers.
When he kicked his jeans off, her faint oh was a nice little boon to his ego. He wanted more, but... “How are we going to do this?”
“I brought a blanket,” she muttered, grasping blindly behind her at the counter. She grabbed the folded bit of fabric and held it out to him. He spread it out on the floor. The floor. Of her store. Granted, they were far enough in the back that the windows were blocked, but...
Any doubts he had about the venue were gone when she rid herself of her underwear and unclasped her bra and tossed it aside.
“Beautiful.”
She made an odd noise, and she blushed. Then she gestured at him. So, he took the rest of his clothes off then pulled her to him. He laid her down on the blanket. It hardly hid the fact that they were on the hard ground, but she didn’t seem to care. She kissed him and held on to him, until he forgot anything else. Just Pru, and how right this felt. How right it was.
“There’s no going back from this,” he said against her neck. Because it needed to be said. Because it needed to be understood.
This changed everything, and he found that was perfectly okay with him.
CHAPTER SEVEN
PANIC SPURTED THROUGH HER, but it was wrapped up in all the other sensations. The way her skin throbbed everywhere he’d kissed or touched. The pull in her stomach, the dull ache that could only be solved by one thing.
No going back? There was always a way to go back. She opened her mouth to tell him but he slid inside of her. So big. So encompassing. She could scarcely breathe and when she did it was only to whisper his name as he held still, deep inside her.
He sighed against her neck, his hands sliding down her sides. Then his mouth covered hers as he began to move. It was a slow, maddening rhythm that stoked a fire too big and too bright to be recognizable.
Sex had never been like this. Had she ever let it be? But she didn’t have a choice with Grant. There was the physical sensation taking her out of that mental space, but it was deeper. Because it was Grant. He pulled some feeling out of her that made everything that much bigger and brighter. And it altered her.
She didn’t want to be altered but she had no choice. The orgasm shuddered through her like a storm, and whatever thoughts she’d had were washed away into sensation and pleasure. Into his mouth, his hands.
Somehow it didn’t end there. He kept touching her and kissing her, moving with her. Like it could go on forever. She found herself whispering his name, holding on to him as something too complicated to mention worked through her, heightening the pleasure in a way she didn’t understand.
Until it all broke, and him with it into a perfect moment of pure sensation.
He rolled off her, but kept an arm around her, drawing her close.
She was lying on a blanket in her store, having just had sex with Grant Mathewson. She was breathing like she’d run a marathon and every last inch of her was perfectly, wonderfully relaxed. She should probably freak out right now, but she couldn’t muster it up just yet. For now she’d enjoy the aftershocks of really, really, really amazing sex. The kind she had fully believed did not exist.
“This wasn’t some slip thing, was it?” he asked, his voice sounding a little sleepy. “Seduce a guy on the floor of your store.”
“I didn’t seduce you.”
“Hm.” He kissed her shoulder absently, then her neck more purposefully. Th
en her mouth again.
“No slip,” she murmured against his lips. Just a purposeful decision because she wasn’t afraid of anything. Least of all any strange feelings about Grant. It was just attraction mixed with an old crush she’d never fully admitted to herself she’d had. Those were both things she could handle. And would.
“Okay.” He rubbed his mouth against the underside of her jaw. “I guess I’m just rusty enough to think it was that.”
“Rusty?” She pushed at him so he had to pull back. “How rusty?”
He blew out a breath and looked at the ceiling. “Well...not really worth talking about, is it?”
She poked his chest. “How long?”
“I don’t see how that’s pertinent information.”
“It is to me. You’ve allegedly been this sad sack, mopey, tragic figure and—”
“All right,” he muttered, scowling at her.
“How long?” She drilled him in the chest again, just to see what he would do. Grant. Naked. After having had really amazing sex with her. On a blanket in her store. That was going to take some time to fully compute.
He grabbed her hand so she couldn’t poke him again. “Three years,” he muttered.
“Years?” She nearly shrieked. “Years? Three years.”
He looked at her dolefully.
“Years,” she whispered. She didn’t want to laugh at him. It wasn’t that. It was just that she could hardly imagine him being this beautiful and not having at least random hookups, no matter how much of a tragic figure he’d been.
“What about you?” he asked, shaking the hand he held.
“Oh, a lady never tells.” She fluttered her eyelashes at him, trying to pull her hand away, but he held firm, keeping those blue eyes pinned to hers.
“Tit for tat, Prudence.”
She lay back and sighed. It was really strange not to be self-conscious around Grant, but he’d touched her, kissed her, been inside her. Clearly he saw something he liked. She wasn’t exactly racking up the notches on her bedpost, but it had hardly been three years. “Less than three years.” She smiled slyly at him.
He was propped up on one elbow, which showed off the intriguing curve of his bicep muscle. “At least tell me it’s been more than three weeks. I can deal with something under three years and over three weeks.”
“Yes.”
“Okay, good.”
“By about eleven months.”
He pointed his free hand at her. “Ha!”
“One year is hardly the same as three. When you look like you do.”
“And how do I look?”
She waved a hand at him. “Look at you. I bet you can do a lot of pull-ups.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Naked pull-ups could have a lot to do with a lot of things. The point is, sad sack or not, you could have had a slew of one-night stands if you’d wanted to.”
“Maybe. I guess I didn’t want to.” He studied her until she did start to feel self-conscious about being naked in front of him.
Her heart bumped against her chest. It was the sign. The one she always listened to. When that heart bump happened, it was time to ease up. To ground herself to earth. Listening to the heart bump only ever ended in heartache.
But his mouth was on hers again and she couldn’t quite follow a thought to completion. To action. His fingers trailed through her hair and she melted into him. Again.
“We could go to the farmhouse,” he said, his mouth traveling down her neck. “You said you were going to tell them anyway.”
She shook her head even as she tilted it to give him more access. “House rules. No hookups.”
“You guys have a lot of really annoying rules.” Then he started to laugh. He rolled onto his back and laughed like he’d heard the funniest joke ever.
“What?” she demanded.
“All those man-catching tips,” he said, then chuckled again. “They worked.”
She gently smacked his bare chest. “They did not!”
“You used them on me to do your duty or whatever, but here I am.” He spread his arms wide. “Sufficiently caught.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I wasn’t trying to catch you or anyone else.”
He rolled on top of her. “Too late.” The kiss was sudden, sweet, and gentle. It had a warmth seeping through her that felt like kryptonite. The panic or fear was ready to rear its ugly head, but he kept talking as he kissed her.
“A bed, Pru. I want you in a bed. My house or yours, but one of them.”
She couldn’t go to his house. Not when he shared it with four of his brothers. It was breaking the rules to take him back to the farmhouse, but she was too...overwhelmed to argue with him. “All right. Follow me home, Grant.”
* * *
GRANT WOKE UP in a strange bed in a strange house, but the woman wrapped around him wasn’t strange at all.
Grant allowed himself to lie still and absorb the moment. He’d set out to change his life when he’d realized he was happy away from the ranch, working at Pru’s store. He hadn’t planned on changing it quite this much. But it fit.
What that meant long-term...well, that was still a mystery. But there was time to figure that out. He glanced at the alarm clock on the dainty nightstand. Late for him, all in all, considering he was used to ranch hours.
No doubt one of his brothers would notice his absence—or his arrival—if he didn’t get home soon. That didn’t bother him so much, but Pru wanted to be careful and, given the choice, Grant would rather avoid his brothers’ notice than be forced to lie to them.
He rolled out of bed and gathered his clothes. Pru began to stir, and he allowed himself the pleasure of watching her wake up. There were none of her usual quick, precise movements or bullet-like focus. It was slow. She tossed and turned a little bit, seemed like she was going to settle back into sleep, then made grumbling complaints.
But once her eyes opened fully, they were sharp and alert and landed on him. “Oh my God. You have to get out of here before everyone wakes up.”
“Good morning to you too.”
She yawned, and looked damn appealing lying there in the rumpled bed. But he knew sex wasn’t on the table again this morning. Not when there had to be some subterfuge. But that didn’t mean he’d hurry away. “What are you guys going to do when you’re done renting this place?”
“Huh?”
He gestured at the walls around him. “You can’t rent a vacation house forever.”
“I don’t... I haven’t really thought about it.”
He stopped pulling on his clothes for a second and looked at her. She was sitting up in the bed, sheet pulled up to her chin, looking perplexed.
“You haven’t thought about where you’re going to live come September?”
“No. I have a store to focus on. If we’re not all ready by the centennial, the rent goes up astronomically and I’ll have to quit.”
It seemed odd to him that it was all or nothing, but maybe...
He shook the thought away.
She hopped out of bed, gathering clothes and muttering to herself about the time. Her hair was wild and her cheeks were flushed. She pulled a T-shirt on, but realized it was his and had to strip it off again and toss it at him.
He caught it, and her when she tried to scurry by him.
“Hi.”
“Grant, I—”
He didn’t let her finish. He put his mouth on hers in a lazy, affectionate good-morning.
She sank into the kiss for approximately three seconds before she shoved him away. “Get dressed,” she ordered, but there was humor in her tone as she pulled the right shirt on this time.
He did the same, fastened his belt, and shoved his feet into his boots. Pru was dressed now, but her hair was still wild. “You’re going to need to do so
mething about that. That is sex hair.”
She patted her head. “It isn’t... Oh, hell. My brush is in the bathroom. Listen, I’ll go out, make sure the coast is clear, then give you the sign to sneak away.”
“Yes, sir.”
She rolled her eyes at his mocking salute, but eased the door open. “You have to stop being funny. Now be good and get gone. If you get caught, I get in trouble.”
“All you have to do is one of your silly man-catching things. I give you permission to use whatever it is on me.” He grinned at her. She didn’t grin back. He leaned down and gave her a quick kiss. “I’ll see you at the store in a bit.”
She nodded, chewing that bottom lip fretfully. The hall was clear so she eased into it, then motioned him to go downstairs. He followed her instructions, though one stair creaked ominously as he put his weight on it, but he sped through. Surely it was early enough they were all still—
He heard the quiet murmur of female voices when he reached the bottom of the stairs. The hallway went directly through the kitchen, which was where he assumed the women were gathered. But if they were eating, they’d be focused on the table. Not this side of the room. All he had to do was be very quiet, and very quick.
That proved impossible when he tripped—over what he’d never know. He wasn’t a clumsy man, but it was almost like the floor had jumped up to conspire against him. He glanced at the kitchen.
Three pairs of female eyes blinked at him, in varying states of pajama wear.
He did the only thing he could think to do. Tipped his hat and said, “Morning, ladies.” When they all continued to gape at him, he managed a smile. “Have a nice day.”
And he got the hell out of Dodge, as strains of old-timey big band music followed him out.
Though the Mathewson ranch wasn’t far off, there was no direct route so he had to take the main road around which added time. He took the side entrance, which meant a drive by Cade’s cabin. If he could get past the cabin without Cade or JJ spotting him, he could figure out a way to get back into the house without anyone catching him.