No Better Man

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No Better Man Page 23

by Sara Richardson


  He still held his mug, balancing it in his hand, raising it in the air while he kissed her back. “Whoa, slugger,” he murmured between kisses.

  She stole the mug out of his hand and set it next to hers, then shifted so she could straddle his legs. “I love it when you call me that.”

  He laughed a low, sexy sound and leaned closer to her ear. “Slugger,” he whispered, slipping his hands under the robe, then gliding them up her bare thighs. “Slugger, slugger, slugger.” His tongue got involved in the action and sent a shock down to her toes.

  She lowered her hands to the edge of his shirt and pulled it over his head in one smooth motion. Then her fingers inched their way down his bare chest and over his tight abs to unbutton his jeans.

  “Avery.” His hands swallowed hers. “You don’t have to…this isn’t why I—”

  “I know I don’t have to,” she cut in before he could finish. “I want this.” So much she could hardly even utter those words. They were too real, too revealing, but she couldn’t contain them because Bryce made her ache, and he was right there in front of her, open and unguarded.

  With a surrendering sigh, he reached up and smoothed his hand over her hair before pulling her mouth back to his, kissing her with a restrained desperation. His hands traveled down her sides, slipping under the robe again, skimming her skin, sliding over the curve of her hips, then up her stomach, higher and higher until the hard pound of her heart resounded through her.

  “Bryce,” she gasped, because that was all she could manage. It was a question, a command, a plea all in one. His eyes connected with hers and the force of his stare pierced her somewhere deep. She could feel it, her heart fusing with his in this mysterious bond that pried her open. Alone she wasn’t enough, but he gave her a glimpse of the wholeness her heart craved.

  She wanted more than a glimpse.

  Keeping her eyes locked on his, she inched off his lap and took her time tugging his pants off of his hips, pulling them down, down, all the way to the floor. When she straightened back up, he stood there with her, hands cradling her cheeks, wrenching her closer, kissing her like he’d only just discovered what it could do to him, how it could free him. And she felt it, too. Free and bold.

  Bryce might not have been much of a talker, but the man could kiss. Yes indeedy, he’d obviously spent a good part of his life honing that important skill.

  His lips moved down her neck tracing and kissing, lingering at that magical place just underneath her jawbone, while his hands worked at the belt tied so snug against her waist. “It’s like a fortress,” he complained, hands pulling, fingers untying, while his mouth molded to hers again and they both laughed.

  Finally, he freed her of it and slipped the robe off her shoulders. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you since last night,” he groaned. “About your perfect body…” His lips traveled lower, tenderly grazing each of her breasts until she had to tighten her mouth to keep from crying out. “You’re a dream, Avery,” he murmured against her, his breath hot on her skin. And that was exactly how he made her feel, treasured and cherished, like he’d searched for her his whole life.

  Without another word, Bryce lifted her into his arms as if she weighed nothing, then lowered her to the floor in front of the fireplace.

  The dancing light softened his face and flickered on his upper body. Such a scenic body. Her eyes worked their way down to his black boxer briefs. She really should do something about those…

  She tried to sit up, but Bryce pressed her shoulders firmly to the floor and rocked onto his knees next to her. “Stay there,” he said, and the enticing grin made her back melt into the floor.

  Starting at her feet, he slowly massaged his way up her legs, kneading his fingers over her calves, then her knees, pausing to caress her inner thighs before inserting his fingers and stroking her in a gentle, fluid rhythm. And oh wow. He knew exactly where to touch, where to tug, where to press, and he took his time with the exploration of her, slowly taking her over, body and soul, claiming her with a selfless devotion. Lowering his face to hers, he kissed her mouth with a slow, lingering heat, then worked his lips to her ear. “What do you want, Avery?” he droned, sending a deep vibration down her left side.

  How could he ask her that when his hand played her body this way, like he’d always known his way around her? How could he even wonder when she was quaking at the sheer extravagance of his touch?

  “You,” she whispered, turning her gaze to his, losing herself in the promise that softened his eyes.

  His fingers plunged deep then, the explosive sensations swelling into her lower abdomen and arching her back. Was she even breathing?

  She must’ve been, but air didn’t fill her lungs before she had to gasp to get hold of herself. Heat pulsed so hard between her legs she knew he had to stop. This wasn’t enough. She wanted to take him where he’d brought her, to erase the cold loneliness that had edged in around his heart. She wanted to connect with him in the most intimate way possible.

  Scooting out of his reach, she rose on her shaky knees and slid those briefs right down his legs until he was exposed before her.

  His sharp intake of air was cut off by her lips. Her tongue teased his before she pulled away and trailed her hands down his body, over his hips, taking her time, kissing her way down his neck and across his stationary chest. “Breathe,” she commanded him, and his shoulders slumped with a weighted exhale.

  “God, Avery, you have no idea what you’re doing to me,” he uttered as if he’d forgotten how to inhale.

  She did know. She understood, felt his needs as strongly as she felt her own. Pressing her lips against his, she breathed him in and closed her hand around him, feeling the hard pulse of his desire. Stroking and tugging, she caressed him until he panted her name.

  “Avery…how’d I live without you?” He stared into her eyes, his breaths ragged.

  “You don’t have to anymore,” she murmured against his lips. Somehow, in this world full of pain and sorrow, they’d found each other. And she wouldn’t let him go.

  “Make love to me, Bryce.” She guided his hands to her backside and he lifted her against him, still on his knees, still hard and strong and powerful.

  “Avery,” he panted again as he thrust into her. Shards of delight splintered inside of her as she wrapped her legs around his waist and hooked her ankles tight.

  Holding her securely against him, Bryce kissed her neck, her cheek, her forehead, and she’d never trembled like this, dangling over that cliff, holding on with everything she had because she didn’t want it to end.

  “I’ve never wanted anyone like I want you,” he murmured breathlessly against her hair.

  “Me either,” she gasped, and it was the truth.

  Rocking his hips, he caught her in an electrifying rhythm. She murmured words in his ear, though she had no idea what she was saying because the force of him consumed her, pushing her farther over the edge with each thrust. It intensified—the heat, the friction, until she cried out, until she was seizing and gasping in his arms. He came after her, breathing her name, clutching her tight in a series of aftershocks, before pulling out and lowering them both to the floor in a heap of heavy breaths. He fit her back to his chest and spooned his body around hers, stroking her arm with a light touch.

  “Thank you.” He whispered into her hair, then kissed the back of her head with a cherished sweetness. Wrapping his arms around her, he held her tightly against him so that his heartbeat resounded through her.

  And she’d never felt so content.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The heaviness of a deep, comatose sleep weighted his eyelids. Bryce turned over. His arm landed on the deserted pillow next to him. He yawned, scrubbed open his eyes. It’d been a long time since he’d slept like this, completely oblivious, dead to the world. Had to be the extra warmth in his bed, the feel of Avery’s form against his. He’d forgotten how much he missed sleeping next to someone. Not that they’d slept much. After spending
most of the night talking and making love by the fire, he’d finally carried her to bed only a couple of hours ago.

  And yet somehow he felt energized.

  The smell of bacon and coffee wafted through his open bedroom door. He inhaled. There was something so warm and familiar about those scents…

  “Breakfast?” Avery appeared in the doorway.

  That was all it took to wake the rest of his body.

  She wore one of his button-up shirts, but she’d missed a few buttons. Her hair was pulled loosely on top of her head spilling down over the bare shoulder that peeked out from the unbuttoned collar. In her hands, she balanced a tray that held two plates piled high with bacon and slightly blackened French toast, along with two mugs of steaming coffee.

  “You cook?” He almost laughed. Just when he thought nothing in this world could get better than last night…

  “Sure. Maybe not to Elsie’s standards, but I can fry up bacon and French toast, thank you very much.”

  She walked toward him, her long, toned legs demanding his attention. Still wrapped in the sheets, he leaned over to steal the tray from her hands, but she swiped it out of reach.

  “What’s the hurry? I thought we’d have a long, leisurely breakfast. Especially since we never got the chance to have a snack last night.” Her smirk reprimanded him.

  “Sorry. My fault. It’s just…” What could he say? He was making up for lost time. “I can’t keep my hands off of you.”

  The corners of her mouth curled in a teasing smile. “How come?”

  Yeah, right. She knew exactly what she did to him.

  He ran a hand up her thigh. “You look good in my shirt.” His fingers fumbled with the buttons. “But you’d look even better without it.”

  She laughed. “We don’t want our breakfast to get cold.” But she perched the tray on the nightstand.

  “I like my French toast cold.” He captured her in his arms and pulled her down next to him. “Freezing, in fact.” He pulled his body over hers. “Which is good. Because what I have in mind might take awhile.”

  “Oh yeah?” She wrapped her leg around him.

  He slid his hands under the shirt and felt his way up her smooth, silken skin. Touching his lips to hers, he groaned. “You’re gorgeous. And sexy. And flexible. Damn near perfect.”

  Avery laughed again but this time it sounded hollow. “Trust me. I’m not perfect. Not even close to perfect.”

  He pulled back and propped himself on his elbow to study her face.

  Her gaze evaded his.

  Uh oh. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” she said, but he recognized the worry in her eyes, the way they shifted back and forth like she didn’t know where to look. He’d seen Yvonne do that a number of times, especially when she was afraid to tell him something. Back then, he’d let it go, afraid of her emotions, afraid he wouldn’t be enough to help her deal with them. But not now. He wanted to be worthy of Avery’s trust.

  “Hey.” He lifted her chin. “What is it?”

  She laid her head back on the pillow. “Sorry. I checked my phone. I shouldn’t have. Six messages from my father. I feel awful.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me. Why would he leave six messages?”

  “To tell me what a disappointment I am. To remind me how much he’s given me over the years. To beg me to come back to work.”

  “You are not a disappointment.” He took her chin in his hand and forced her to look at him. “You’re compassionate and beautiful and funny and smart.” He found his phone on the nightstand. “Want me to call and tell him that?”

  “No.” She turned her head to the side and looked at him. Curls spilled down over her shoulder and tempted his hand to brush them back.

  He ditched the phone and gathered her into his arms, lowering his mouth to her ear. “You don’t have to go back. We can hide out all day,” he teased.

  Avery didn’t smile. She stared at the ceiling. “I have no idea what I’ll do, Bryce. Where I’ll go. Where I’ll work…”

  Ah, yes. The fear of the unknown. He knew all about that. Ever since she’d told him she’d quit, he’d wondered when the panic would kick in. She seemed like a pretty scheduled person. Not exactly the spontaneous type. Lucky for her, he had more experience in that department. “You have nothing to worry about,” he told her with authority.

  “Really?” She looked at him, eyes skeptical.

  He grinned. “Really. I’ve got the day all planned out. First we’ll take a shower. Then a nap.” He emphasized the word so she’d know he didn’t mean sleeping. “Then we’ll eat. Another nap. Maybe sit in the hot tub…”

  Avery’s smile returned. That was exactly what he’d wanted to see.

  He kissed her lightly, then gazed into her eyes. “Seriously. You can stay here as long as you want. Until things blow over with your father.” And a helluva lot longer than that, if she chose to. Not that he would tell her that, yet. He couldn’t push her. Not today. In some ways, they were both learning to live in the moment, to move forward, to leap uninhibited into an unknown future. He wanted to walk into that with her, but she needed time to figure out what she wanted.

  “Thank you.” She traced his lips with her finger. “That means—”

  Behind him, his cellphone buzzed and bounced.

  “Sorry.” He swiped it up and glanced at the screen. “Don’t recognize the number.” Probably a sales call, but it also could’ve been his bank. He’d been trying to talk to someone since his conversation with Ben.

  “Hang on a sec,” he said to Avery, then swung his legs over the side of the bed and clicked on the phone. “This is Bryce.”

  “Mr. Walker.” There was something vaguely familiar about the voice, formal and cold…

  “This is Edward King.”

  Yup. That was it. “Hang on.” He glanced over his shoulder at Avery, who had sat up and was leaning against the headboard innocently sipping her coffee, looking bright and happy. Couldn’t ruin that moment for her. So he scooted off the bed and covered the speaker. “I’m gonna take this in the living room,” he said cheerfully.

  “Hurry back,” she called.

  “Definitely.” Unfortunately, something told him this wouldn’t be a quick conversation. As soon as he was out of range, he lifted the phone back to his ear. “What can I do for you, Mr. King?”

  “Tell my daughter you don’t want her. Send her back to the hotel. Don’t contact her again. And I’ll make sure you keep your ranch.”

  Was this guy for real?

  “I won’t do that to her.” He couldn’t. Not after last night. Not after he knew how it felt to sleep next to her. He couldn’t go without that. Not anymore. Besides, he’d be able to hold onto the ranch. With Ben’s help.

  “I had a feeling you would say that,” King said. “So you can consider this your notification that your ranch is going to auction. Next Wednesday. I’ll see you at the county building.”

  Auction? The room closed in on him. He couldn’t breathe. The man was bluffing. He had to be bluffing. “That’s not possible.”

  “It is when you know the president of the lending company,” the jackass stated.

  “You can’t do this.” But the words were no match for Edward King and he knew it. The man had the money and the notoriety to do whatever the hell he wanted.

  “It’s already done.” King paused. “It’s been 120 days since you received your Notice of Election and Demand. Your bank filed the paperwork this morning. The property will be auctioned off to the highest bidder, and I think we both know who that will be.”

  Shock held him in a vise. He couldn’t breathe or blink or swallow. Millions. Edward King had millions of dollars. He couldn’t come up with enough to outbid him. Not even if he worked the rest of his damn life.

  “I’m surprised Avery didn’t mention it,” her father droned in that tight grating tenor. “She knew.”

  “No.” He glanced across the room and saw her through the open bedroom door, s
itting on his bed. The bed they’d slept in together. “She wouldn’t keep something like that from me.”

  “She’s very loyal to me, Mr. Walker. Remember that.” He paused. “You can expect your official notice from the bank later today.” A click sounded and the line went dead.

  The phone fell from his hand and hit the floor. He’d lost it. Everything. Edward King had taken it all away. And Avery had helped him?

  “Looks like our breakfast is getting col—” she stepped through the door, but stopped when she looked at him. “Bryce? What’s wrong? Who was on the phone?”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” He eased in breaths between the words so he didn’t shout at her, but blood pumped through him, hot and fast, and he knew he had to get out of there.

  “Tell you what?” Her eyes were round with innocence.

  He stepped as close as he dared, but not close enough that she could touch him. “That your father was schmoozing the president of my bank.”

  Her mouth dropped open in a look of fear, and that was all he needed to see. She knew. She knew and she hadn’t told him.

  He swept past her, into the bedroom, and blindly ripped clothes out of drawers.

  “Stop.” She followed behind him. “Bryce, please. Calm down.”

  “Calm down?” He yanked on his pants and sweatshirt. “I’m gonna lose the ranch. Do you get that? This place is my life, Avery. And next week they’re gonna auction it off to the highest bidder. Which’ll no doubt be your father.”

  She smoothed her hands over his shoulders. “I’m sorry, Bryce. I love the ranch, too.”

  He jerked away from her, fury stinging down his arms. “Don’t do that.”

  “Do what?” she shot back, like she had any right to be mad at him.

  “Pretend that you care. Pretend that you’re not the same person as your father.” He got in her face. “My grandparents built this place themselves. I grew up here. I got married here. Yvonne and I lived here together…”

  She flinched like he’d slapped her.

  His words echoed back to him. Wait. That wasn’t what he’d meant. He’d only meant this was his home…

 

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