“You’re leaving. Today.”
“Only if you physically make me. Otherwise, I’m going to stay. Today and tomorrow and all the days in the future. I’m in love with your land, Jacob Wild. I’m in love with your mother and your family and your horses, and I’m even falling for yo—”
“Fuck, stop. Stop. Just fucking stop.” I lashed out, grabbing her wrist and jerking her toward me. I meant to yank her from the tractor. My mind was full of images of tossing her to the soft grass, leaping onto the machine, and driving away to somewhere I could find sanity.
But the second I touched her again…shit.
That was my first mistake.
Pulling her closer until we were nose to nose was my second.
She froze as we almost bumped foreheads. I waited for her to arch back, to give me room, to get out of my personal space, but she just hovered there. Her green eyes as vibrant and as unforgiving as some emerald river, her button nose pink and cheeks shiny with temper.
My fingers wrapped tighter around her wrist.
And this time, I couldn’t let her go.
I’d run out of strength.
She’d drained me, ruined me.
She’d won.
I forgot why I needed to keep my distance.
I forgot why being happy was a sin.
I forgot why I had promises that kept me locked here and why I didn’t let people get close.
I forgot about all of it.
All I saw was Hope.
Her eyelashes, her chin, her mouth.
And I did something I’d never done before.
A twenty-one-year-old guy, who cursed his own species and swore an oath of celibacy to avoid the agony of broken love, chose that moment to condemn himself.
I blamed the concussion.
I blamed the sun and meadow and Hope.
Oh, I blamed Hope.
Definitely, definitely Hope.
This was her fault.
All of this.
Especially this.
This.
Kiss.
I swooped up before I could change my mind.
Our lips smashed together.
Hope cried out.
I groaned.
Pain bruised between us followed by mind-shattering relief.
Relief to touch and not fight it.
Relief to feel contact and not fear it.
Relief to find a tiny taste of the pleasure I’d been battling ever since Hope arrived and was no longer a timid ten-year-old but a feisty seventeen-year-old who wouldn’t take no for an answer.
Her fingers dove into my hair, dislodging my cowboy hat to tumble down my back. Her lips parted beneath mine, her tongue eager and brave, darting into my mouth before I could comprehend exactly what I’d done.
The silky slipperiness of her, the faint lemonade taste, the heat that rivalled the sun.
I snapped.
Dragging her toward me by her wrist, I grabbed her around the waist and half fell, half lowered her to the ground. Our lips never unlocked, messy and fast, hungry and unschooled.
My hands splayed over her hips as I pushed her against the huge tractor wheel, trapping her in place. My back bellowed as I leaned against her, weighing her down from mouth to toes.
She shivered. A deep moan escaped her, filling my lungs as my hardness found the welcome parting of her thighs.
Her kiss switched from wild to frantic.
My hands cupped her head.
Hers squeezed my ass.
I wanted to punish her for pushing me.
I wanted to curse her, climb into her, get her naked, and never let her go again.
She was maddening and frightening and everything I’d always avoided.
Yet having her in my arms, I was free.
Free to suck her tongue and bite her lip and squeeze her close. So fucking close we both struggled to breathe, fighting a physical war rather than one filled with words. Our teeth clacked as our kiss deepened, our heads danced, and tongues tangled.
What the hell was this…this insanity?
Nothing else mattered but this.
Nothing else entered my mind but this.
I would happily die in this.
Die in this kiss.
Kill for this kiss.
I needed more.
I needed everything.
She squirmed in my arms, brushing hard things and sending violence ripping through me.
“You’re killing me.” I kissed her with all the aggression she’d caused. “What the fuck did you do?” My cock begged for touch—her touch.
I wanted to goddamn cry that I’d prevented myself from feeling such things, all while my heart shot itself because it knew it would never be whole after this.
It was cursed.
For always.
“Jake—” Her teeth caught my bottom lip, followed by a lick and a kiss.
I lost all control.
She made me lose control.
My height meant I had to duck to gather her close. I hugged her delicious body against mine, pressing my excruciating ache into her.
Years of strict rules and self-preservation tactics all dissolved with the desire for more.
I fell to my knees, dragging her down with me.
She pushed me into the thick grass, straddling me.
Not once did we stop kissing.
We weren’t human anymore.
We were blood and bone and bruising, brutal desperation.
I didn’t know if my eyes were open or closed. All I saw was darkness, hunger, need. She didn’t push me away as I pressed her deeper into my lap. She didn’t tell me to stop as my fingers slid up her belly and found her breasts.
She encouraged me.
She spurred me on, fighting to get closer, pushing me down as if she wanted to lock me against the very same earth she’d fallen in love with.
I couldn’t catch my breath as we fought. Messy and out of control with lips burning and tongues licking and hands claiming every inch of each other.
There was no first anymore.
No first kiss or first touch or first flirt.
We’d demolished every law, and I wanted, begged to finish every other first.
Her hand dove between us, fingers rubbing hard against the steel in my jeans.
I nipped her in approval, grabbing her wrist and pressing her palm over me. Fingers weren’t enough. I wanted her entire hand.
Fumbling for her singlet, I wrenched it halfway up her belly. Our mouths were wet and hot, our breathing haggard.
Nothing had ever felt so good, so intoxicating, so right.
I couldn’t stop kissing her long enough to pull the fabric over her head.
But it didn’t matter anyway.
Because thundering hooves echoed in the land beneath us like a war drum.
Closer and closer.
A terrified call from a mother who was overprotective and fought against death every day like me.
And the world came smashing back.
And I remembered why I could never do this sort of thing.
I pulled away.
Hope launched to her feet.
I flopped onto my back.
And the consequences of what I’d done broke me.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Hope
* * * * * *
IT WAS MORTIFYING.
Absolutely, tummy-churning mortifying.
What had I been thinking?
I had to have been drunk. Drunk on life, on farming, on everything that tingled in my blood. I’d just been so happy. So light and giddy and caught up in the magic of a dream come true.
But that wondrous joy had made me loose-lipped and stupidly courageous.
I should never have said those things to Jacob.
I should never have been so idiotic to push him into kissing me.
God!
That person goading him wasn’t me. That person kissing him had been a crazy, reckless girl who put everything on the line in one insa
nely tense fight.
A week had passed since then.
A week since I’d almost broken Jacob, destroyed myself, and somehow enjoyed the exquisite sensation of his lips on mine, his tongue tangling with mine, his body pressed against mine.
I still couldn’t believe it was real.
It had to be a dream, right?
A kiss from Jacob wasn’t something I’d ever earn in reality. And certainly not the kiss we’d both tripped head first into. The kiss that changed me as a person, woke up my soul, and shot alive my heart in ways I never believed possible.
But it had happened because the mortification was still there.
The shame and horror when Della caught me clinging and kiss-drunk on top of her son within viewing distance of her house. When Jacob had kissed me, I didn’t think about who might see. When the touch and taste of his lips met mine, my thinking capacity was done.
Finished.
I became a creature of lust. I wasn’t responsible for my actions. I think back now and blush at the force and speed things escalated.
All because of me.
I’d attacked him—pure and simple.
First with words and then with touch.
I’d done everything I said I wouldn’t, and I’d made Jacob hate me even more.
But the crazy thing was?
He’d attacked me back.
He’d kissed me.
Yanking the brush through my hair, I tugged a little too hard. My cheeks pinked in the mirror, relieving the angst and sickening guilt when Della halted her galloping horse, threw the reins away, and leapt to our side.
God, I was her guest.
I slept under her roof, ate her food, and lived in luxury thanks to her hospitality. And what had I done? I’d pushed her son into the grass, mauled him, and who knew what would’ve happened if she hadn’t arrived.
That was the power Jacob had over me.
He turned me into a girl I didn’t really like. A girl who did things she promised she wouldn’t do. The urge to help him, heal him, love him overwhelmed me to the point where I was no longer in control.
And what made it even worse?
Della didn’t care we’d practically been tearing each other’s clothes off. She didn’t even look at me as I turned scarlet and tugged my singlet down as fast as I could.
She’d merely thrown herself at Jacob and grabbed him as if certain he was dead. She’d shaken him, glowered at him, and demanded to know if he needed an ambulance.
And the whole story came out.
Della had experienced a terrible case of déjà vu. The meadow wasn’t helping her nerves as it continued to gather a ledger of incidents. First, Ren collapsed from his condition after leaping off a tractor, then she saw her son tumble from the very same tractor his father had.
Thanks to her husband passing out in that meadow, Della didn’t think. She didn’t see me. She only saw another loved one being claimed by death far too early.
That made me doubly guilty because it was me who’d pushed Jacob to the ground.
Me who’d straddled him into the dirt. Me who—
Argh!
I yanked the brush harder, trying to shut up my thoughts.
It was over.
Della was okay. Jacob said he was fine. And he’d barely looked at me since.
Life had fallen into a taut rhythm where I still helped Jacob with his work, but whatever chemistry existed between us had been locked behind a fireproof door, and Jacob had become immune.
My heart kicked unhappily as I slipped a black T-shirt over my lacy white bra and clutched my silver locket. The lace from my mother and the jewellery from my lover.
Lover?
You kissed one time.
You’ve been working together for a week, and he’s barely spoken two words to you since.
He’s hardly your lover.
Giving my reflection the bird, I hauled on a pair of jeans and left the bathroom.
I could usually bypass Della at this time of the morning, but today, she caught me.
She stepped from her bedroom wing as I exited the bathroom.
I smiled shyly. “Oh, morning, Della.”
We’d cleared the air a few nights ago when we’d had dinner, just the two of us, and I’d explained my role in what’d happened.
I’d told her how I pushed him. How I said things. How I did stuff I probably shouldn’t have.
Instead of scolding me, she’d apologised profusely for jumping to conclusions and ruining our moment. There were no awkward warnings not to get involved with her son. No ‘you’re both too young’ conversation or request for me to leave.
She’d been so understanding and sad at the same time. Sad because she knew what I knew.
Jacob was never going to forgive me for what I’d done.
I might as well leave because whatever friendship we’d managed to conjure was now dead.
She smiled, lack of sleep and age-old grief shadowing pretty blue eyes. “Morning, Hope. Much planned today?”
“Not sure.” I shrugged. “I think Jacob said we’re baling the back paddock. Something about hundreds of bales that need storing before the dew settles.”
“Ah, you’re in for a late one then. Take a pair of thick gloves. You’ll need them.” Heading toward the kitchen, she added, “We’ll all help you load them onto the trailer and into the barn. You can’t be expected to lift so many bales on your own, and Jacob definitely isn’t lifting any. Not with his bad back.”
“Wait? You know about that?”
She tapped her nose. “I always know.”
I snickered. “I had a feeling you would. I did tell him to tell you.”
“Good luck telling him to do anything.”
I sighed. “I’m beginning to understand that.”
“You’ll win him round again, you’ll see.” She poured water into the kettle. “He can’t hold a grudge forever.”
“You sure about that?”
We shared a smile before she shrugged. “Not really. But if anyone can get into Jacob’s head, you can.”
What about getting into his heart?
“Guess I’ll see you later?” I asked, my pulse already racing at seeing her son and spending yet another stressful day with him.
“Wouldn’t miss it.” She blew me a kiss as I headed to the door as if this was my house, and she was my family, and this was the life I’d always lived.
Something was inherently odd that I was so at home here with dirt under my nails while fighting with a farm boy. Odd that I didn’t miss my old life, raised by nannies and daughter of a famous actor.
Odd that I’d left that world so easily.
Yet to leave this one…it killed me just thinking about.
* * * * *
“You shouldn’t be lifting that.”
Jacob ignored me, his shirtless back rippling with tanned sinew and muscle as he hauled a perfectly formed hay bale from earth to trailer.
Tugging my overly big gloves back into position, I moved to stand in front of him. “I know you’re mad at me, but your back, Jake. You can’t lift—”
“I’m not mad.” He swiped his forearm over his chin, removing a stray piece of hay. “I’m furious. And don’t call me Jake.”
I blinked. “Furious at me?”
“No. At me.” He sighed heavily. “I should never have kissed you last week.”
I froze.
We hadn’t brought up that subject.
It was totally off-limits, despite working ten-hour shifts together every day. I’d respected his coldness and desire to forget it ever happened, and honestly, I’d been too afraid to bring it up in case he asked me to leave.
I’d loved kissing him. I’d loved touching him. I desperately wanted more. But if he asked me to go…God.
Glancing toward the horizon where the sun made its lazy way to bed in a wash of pink and gold, I forced myself to be brave. He’d brought it up. We had to talk about it sometime or later.
Avoiding lookin
g at the way sweat trickled down his stomach or the tense way his shoulders bunched, I whispered, “Kissing you was one of the best things I’ve ever done.”
He flinched. “Yet it was one of my worst.”
Ouch.
I rubbed at the hole he’d punctured in my chest. Pacing away, I kicked at some hay that the baler had missed. We’d worked eleven hours straight, turning two huge fields from rowed grass into perfect square bales wrapped up with twine.
We needed to get those bales into storage before the evening dew settled. We didn’t have time to discuss our lack of a love story.
“I’m sorry, Hope. That wasn’t fair.” Jacob slouched against the rim of the large trailer. “What I meant was…I let our fight turn into something it shouldn’t. That’s all.”
“Our fight was about how we felt about each other. It made sense it would lead to something like that.”
His head whipped up, eyes dark. “How we felt about each other?”
“Oh, come on. I like you, Jacob. You must know that by now.”
His jaw clenched. “Doesn’t change anything.”
“It could.” My throat threatened to close. “If you wanted it to.”
“I don’t.”
I nodded, unable to find the strength to reply.
We stood in painful silence for the longest heartbeat before he kicked off from the trailer and came toward me. “I don’t want to hurt you, Hope. I’ve been going over how to tell you this without coming across as a heartless asshole, but…” He swallowed before forcing himself to continue. “I know you think I’m just being stubborn when I say I’m not looking for a friend. But...the honest to God truth is I’m not.”
I tripped back a step, unable to ignore the urge to flee. “Oh, that’s—”
“Don’t say it’s fine because I know it’s not. I’m doing my best to stay calm to show you how serious I am about this. I know you think I’m some charity case who needs help. I know you think I need taken care of but—”
“I don’t think that. I’m not pushing you out of charity.”
“Either way, I’m grateful for what you’ve done for me. Your hard work has been much appreciated, but…” He sighed long and harsh.
“There’s that but again.”
He gave me a tight smile.
I gulped. “But…you want me to leave? Like you asked before we kissed?” My voice was the size of a field mouse.
The Son & His Hope Page 27