by Dahlia West
CASSIDY HESITATED, LOOKING into his dark eyes, searching for deception…or maybe a promise. Finding only that comforting, knowing look she’d seen so many times now, she lowered herself to the thick grass at the river’s edge.
She’d given up all her secrets now—almost all of them, anyway. The last she couldn’t bring herself to tell him, that it wasn’t him she was supposed to be lying here with but Walker. And that she should have been pregnant by now, with Walker’s child. Honorable man that he was—that all the Barlows were—he would’ve married her to give the baby his name and opened the door for her father to start laying his own seeds, to take their land.
She couldn’t do it with Wayne. The thought of his baby inside her when she didn’t care for him at all had made her shudder. He’d proposed anyway, and Cassidy, with the world (and a dumb man) right at her feet, right where she was supposed to be per her father’s instructions, had said no and walked away.
As he moved over her, his golden-brown skin sliding against hers, she allowed herself, at least for this moment, to imagine a future with him. His ring on her finger, his body next to hers every night, his baby growing inside her. Cassidy found the one person to whom she was prepared to give everything, and it turned out to be a man who could give her nothing in return.
Nothing but his love.
Sawyer had no land in his name and no money in his bank account. All he had to give her was himself, his name. And that was perfect.
When he reached into the pocket of the pair of jeans lying beside them and drew out a condom, she began to sob quietly. She didn’t want that. She wanted him. But it was too early to ask, too early to beg for a future.
Sawyer dropped the condom, still in the foil, onto the grass and gathered her in his arms. “Are you all right?” he asked.
Cassidy could only nod.
He leaned away from her, searching her face. “Do you want to stop?”
She sobbed again but managed to rasp out, “No. Don’t stop.”
He looked taken aback, that she was a mess, that she was crying. “Cassidy, we don’t have to—”
“Please!” she gasped. She would beg for…this at least. “Please.”
His silent agreement sent shockwaves through her as he crushed his mouth to hers. Moments later she sighed in relief and parted her lips as he explored her mouth with his tongue. He didn’t have to wait for her full surrender, or even demand it this time.
Cassidy spread her legs wide and pressed her palms to his bare back, urging him closer. “I need you,” she said through her tears.
He moved away a tiny bit, just to grab the condom, and she heard the tear of the foil as she closed her eyes. Sawyer held her firmly and entered her slowly. “I’m here, Princess. I’ve got you,” he whispered as he parted her thighs.
The name meant so much more to her now. He saw her. And he still wanted her. She wasn’t useless or stupid or a gold digger or a whore. Not to him. She was Sawyer Barlow’s princess. And nothing on Earth could make her happier.
He made love to her, as promised, slow and gentle. Cassidy had never been naked outdoors or naked in front of a man, not like this, not this vulnerable. Sawyer had stripped away all her defenses and then kept his promise not to hurt her.
Sawyer was so gentle with her, taking extra care to kiss her and run his palms over her breasts, making her nipples strain to meet his touch. He dipped his hand and pinched her gently, rolling the tight bud between his thumb and forefinger.
Cassidy gasped and arched her back, pressing her flesh into him, begging for more.
He ducked his head and licked the surface of her puckered skin, as if salving the small hurt he’d given her. His soft lips pressed against her, and his teeth grazed her most sensitive parts.
“Sawyer!” she cried, running her fingers through his hair, pulling him closer.
“Shhh,” he murmured, hot breath pricking at her wet skin. “Let me get you ready, Princess. I don’t want to hurt you when I get in there.”
If she had any questions about what he meant by “there,” they were answered by the slight tug of her panties. He slid his fingertips between the wet silk and her tingling mound, pausing at the button of her clit. He rubbed it slowly, thoughtfully, pressing it with the pads of his fingertips as he slid down her panties with his free hand.
Cassidy lifted her hips, eager to get rid of the offending garment that was keeping him at bay. Once they lay in the thick grass beside them, abandoned altogether, Sawyer’s firm hand spread her thighs, and his finger parted her. Her core ached as he slid it inside, curling it in as he did, hitting her in just the right spot. She moaned, thighs and belly starting to quiver.
Everything was so tense, her nerves frayed, her senses heightened. With just this simple stroke she was about to come. Sawyer must’ve realized it because he pulled out, leaving her empty and needy.
“No!” Cassidy cried.
Sawyer shook his head. “Not this time, Princess. You don’t come till I’m inside you, till my cock is in you. Understood?”
She was breathless, weightless, and all she could do was nod.
Sawyer lowered himself between her thighs, condom-covered cock jutting out from his belly toward hers. He positioned the head against her entrance and sank down slowly, holding himself up with little effort of his bulging biceps. The familiar stretch and burn of his thick shaft entering her felt like Heaven when mixed with the sunlight beating down on them and the sound of the water rippling beside them. It might have been silly, but to her they were Adam and Eve, naked in paradise.
His thrusts were calm, deliberate, and the head of his shaft rasped against her clit as he pulled out each time and then buried himself again.
Cassidy regretted that there was anything between them, but his soft touch, his persistent invasion into the deepest parts of her had knocked down all barriers but that one. And she was glad. Secrets, lies, half-truths, and hidden agendas meant nothing in this place. Time stood absolutely still in this moment. She imagined the sun overhead eclipsed as they took pleasure in one another.
“Sawyer,” she murmured, her voice barely above the whispered wind that shook the leaves in the trees around them.
Every thrust was a wave that crested higher and higher each time. Cassidy dug her nails into his broad shoulders and lifted her knees to give him better access, drive him deeper. “Sawyer,” she cried again, louder this time.
“I want to hear you,” he growled, his lips at her ear. “There’s no one but us, and I want hear you scream.”
His hand slid in between them, slipping down her glistening skin until it found her clit. He rubbed, hard, timing it with the motion of his hips.
“Sawyer!”
“Loudly, Princess. Loudly.”
He pressed down hard on her swollen bud, and Cassidy screamed, rivaling all the wild animals that surely surrounded them way out here. Sawyer’s own climax began as hers was winding down. She felt every throb, every pulse as he emptied inside her with only the thin layer of latex between them. She felt a pang of disappointment at not being claimed by him fully but accepted it because he was here with her, his body a solid weight above hers, his presence undeniable just the same. She may not have had all of him, but she had enough.
For now.
As she dressed, he readied the horse. The ride back was just as pleasant. Cassidy loved his horse and the fact that Sawyer had let her ride him. She loved everything he’d done for her, even when he made her talk about things that she usually kept hidden. Back at the barn, he pulled her from the horse’s back and set her on her feet. Without waiting for him, she pulled the saddle blanket from Cash’s back and flipped it over. She laid it across the half gate, bottom up, to dry. She unbuckled the bridle, too, and lowered it slowly, as Dakota had taught her, until Cash dropped the bit of his own accord.
“You’re getting good at this,” Sawyer told her as she hung the bridle from the cast-iron hook above her head.
She smiled to herself. It was nice t
o be good at something. She closed the gate firmly, and Sawyer took hold of her hand, leading her out of the barn and toward the Big House. Sawyer swatted her bottom as they reached the wooden steps, and she shrieked, rushing up the stairs toward the front door.
“You can’t outrun me! Don’t make me lasso you!” Sawyer cried, catching her just inside the door and pressing her up against the wall.
“Again?” she whispered as his mouth came down on hers.
“Always,” he told her.
Across the hall, the door swung open suddenly, and Walker’s large frame filled the doorway.
Cassidy moved closer to Sawyer, shrinking away from the other man. She was still nervous around him, since the Pinkie Pie incident, which clearly had not been her fault, but she’d still been caught holding the bottle. She wondered if that image had stuck in his mind and, no pun intended, colored Walker’s perception of her.
Or maybe she just felt guilty.
That night at The Spur when he’d turned her down hadn’t exactly been a shining moment between them. She wondered if he ever thought about it, and what he thought of her. She didn’t dare ask, though.
Walker frowned at them. “If you two are finished pretending you’re underneath the bleachers at the homecoming game, we’ve got work to do.”
Sawyer cleared his throat with a grin but didn’t let go of her.
“We need to head into town,” Walker declared. “Our feed order’s ready.”
“Let’s get in the truck,” Sawyer cried, smacking Cassidy on her backside. “Come on.”
Walker hesitated, and for a moment she was certain he would tell her she wasn’t welcome to come. But then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “Fine,” he said, handing it to her. “You can get the items on that list while Sawyer and I get the feed order sorted out and loaded into the truck.
She nodded and pocketed the paper, grateful to have even a small task assigned by the man who was in charge of Snake River. “Okay,” she replied with a smile. “No problem.”
The three of them climbed into Walker’s large truck, with Cassidy closest to the door. Sawyer threaded her fingers through his and squeezed her hand warmly. She smiled as she looked out the window at the rolling hills. She liked that he was so affectionate in front of people. It didn’t seem to be a show or a public claiming (not that she would’ve minded that), but it was more like a gesture that was intimate and personal, meant only for her.
The ride passed quickly, and Walker pulled into the Feed and Seed just twenty minutes later. She hopped out and ducked inside the store with the brothers.
“We’re just going to the feed counter,” Sawyer told her, nodding to the rear of the store.
“I’ve got my list,” Cassidy proclaimed, fishing it out of her pocket.
“We won’t be long. Find us when you’re done,” he ordered. “Don’t leave the store without us.” His gaze was dark and wary and she nodded.
“I’ll find you,” she promised.
Sawyer and Walker headed to the back while Cassidy pulled a cart out of the bay and pushed it toward the third aisle. She reached for the spool of baling twine just as a hand snaked out and clamped down on her wrist. She whirled and came face to face with Palmer. She gasped loudly. “What are you doing here?” she hissed, glancing over her shoulder. She was relieved that they were alone. Neither Sawyer nor Walker was in sight. “Get out of here!” she told Palmer.
He smirked at her, tightening his hold.
Cassidy winced.
“Guess I could ask what you’re doing here,” he spat. “Or who you’re doing. But I already know. You havin’ fun playing house over at Snake River with Sawyer Barlow?”
“Let me go,” she insisted, ignoring his question.
Palmer only gripped her wrist tighter.
Tears sprung to her eyes, and she was reminded of the time he’d taken it too far, twisted her arm until she’d felt the snap of thin bone in his large hand. She prayed he wouldn’t do it again. She considered crying out for help, for Sawyer, but she didn’t want Palmer and Sawyer meeting face to face. The look in Palmer’s eyes was too terrifying, all too familiar. He was here to ruin her life, and at this point, Cassidy knew that her brother would do it, was capable of it, and wouldn’t so much as bat an eye over it.
She pulled and tugged and tried to break out of his iron grip, her hand and fingers turning purple in the struggle. She just wanted her older brother out of her life entirely. “I’ll scream,” she threatened, but he just grinned at her.
Stupid. If she hadn’t done it by now, it was clear she wasn’t going to.
As if he heard her thoughts, he said, “You never were too bright, Cassidy.” He snorted. “Thank God you came out pretty. Otherwise, we might’ve had to drown you like a runt.” He let go of her wrist, but Cassidy only had a second’s relief before he grabbed her again by the upper arms, squeezing hard, fingers digging in hard. “You think you get to just leave?” he snarled. “That you can just throw a saddle on any old cowboy you take a fancy to and ride him off into the sunset and leave Daddy and me behind?”
“What do you care?” Cassidy gasped.
He gaped at her. “What do I care? What do I care?! You screwed the wrong cowboy, and now you’ve screwed me, too! Conroy Cattle is an empire, you dumb bitch. But you don’t get to keep an empire unless you grow it, make it stronger, make it more valuable. We’d be well on our way to owning almost half of Lincoln County by now if you’d stuck to the plan. If you’d done what you’re told!”
He shook her wildly, making her head snap back.
“You’re hurting me, Palmer!”
He brought her close, nose to nose, and that chilling look in his own blue eyes made Cassidy’s widen in fear. “I’m going to do more than that,” he told her.
Cassidy heard heavy boots on the tile floor behind her and turned to glance over her shoulder.
“What the fuck?” Sawyer growled through his clenched jaw.
Cassidy finally jerked her arm free from Palmer’s grip and backed away from her brother.
“I will fucking kick the shit out of you!” Sawyer snarled as he headed straight toward them.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
‡
SAWYER SAW RED the moment he turned down the aisle and found Palmer Conroy with his hands on Cassidy. He launched himself at the rat-faced bastard, knocking him into the shelves to one side, spilling items everywhere.
“Oh my God!” Cassidy cried. “Sawyer, no!”
She snatched at his arms, trying to pull him off her brother, but had no luck. Sawyer outweighed her. Hell, his biceps were as big as her thighs. He had one forearm pressed against Palmer Conroy’s throat and drew back his other arm, cocking it, fist at the ready.
“Sawyer!” Walker barked from somewhere behind him.
Before Sawyer could throw a punch (the first of many) Walker’s thick arms encircled him like a vise and pulled him back.
His boots kicked tins of saddle soap and wire brushes so they went skittering across the floor. “Let me go!” he barked to Walker.
“Not here,” Walker growled in his ear. “You’ll just end up in the sheriff’s holding cell.”
“Then he can be right there with me!” Sawyer declared. “All fucking night.”
Palmer had the good sense to pale at that idea for just a moment. Apparently the thought of being locked in a steel cage with Sawyer overnight wasn’t too appealing. The man shook himself, though, and pushed off the shelves to right himself. “For what?!” he snapped. “You attacked me! Go ahead. Call the police!” he shouted to the few people who’d gathered at the end of the aisle, curious onlookers who’d obviously been attracted by the noise. “I’m happy to tell Sheriff Langley to take you in and let you rot there.”
Palmer threw around the sheriff’s name like they were old friends, like Palmer had the old man on a leash or something. Palmer himself didn’t, Sawyer was certain, but their father, Christopher Conroy, sure as shit might
have the old man’s ear. The Barlows had a good relationship with the local law, though, too. Who knew which side the Sheriff would come down on. “Let’s go outside,” Sawyer growled. “Let’s talk.”
Palmer snorted. “I’ll stay right here, thanks.”
“Fucking chicken shit,” Sawyer spat. “Scared of me? Let me guess, you only hit women.”
Palmer’s eyes narrowed at him.
“You hit Cassidy,” Sawyer accused, lunging for the man again. Walker tightened his grip and dragged him back, out of arm’s reach. Sawyer was so pissed off he considered taking a swing at his own brother just for a crack at this bastard in front of him, the one who’d dared raise a hand to a woman. And not any woman, his woman.
Palmer was going to pay.
“You hit Cassidy,” he repeated. “And I swear to God I’m going to pound your face until my arm gets tired. Then I’m going to use my boot. If you ever touch her again—”
Palmer laughed. “It’s the last thing I’ll ever do,” he sang.
“I will bury you,” Sawyer whispered, and Palmer stilled in front of him.
“Yeah, I hit her,” Palmer shot back, as though that admission wasn’t any big deal, as though it wasn’t going to get him killed. “Like we planned.”
Sawyer froze and stopped struggling with Walker to get free. “What?”
Palmer sneered. “She fucked up. And she was supposed to make it right. So I smacked her around a little, like we agreed, and she was supposed to run to Walker, all boo hoo hoo. But I guess she ran to you, instead.”
For a moment Sawyer was struck dumb where he stood. Even Walker’s grip loosened a little. But Sawyer was so surprised that he didn’t seize the opportunity to go after Cassidy’s brother again. Instead he looked to her.
Her eyes widened, and she brought up her hands, moving them in front of her as if she could wave away the accusation. “That’s not true!” she insisted.
“It is,” Palmer said calmly now. “She and Horvath were engaged. They’d be married by now with at least one brat if she hadn’t chickened out.”
“We were not engaged!” Cassidy hissed.