by Leah Braemel
The picture he’d always held in his head of his family, of his perfect parents, his perfect family shattered, revealing a portrait of parents he didn’t recognize anymore.
His heart closing in on itself, he folded his arms over his chest. “What made you decide to come home?”
“Because Agnes phoned me and made some promises that she’d butt out of my life, that she’d send one of the ladies who helped clean her house over once a week until I got my feet under me. I don’t like to say ill of people, but your grandmother’s not been the most supportive person when it came to me marrying your father.”
“Allie figures—” He cleared his throat but the obstruction didn’t clear. “Gram took care of things, that she paid this other woman to give up the baby.”
“Yes, but she never told me anything about a baby. When I found out—” She shook her head and stared at her hands. “Do you know how hard it was to smile at him, to pretend nothing was wrong, day after day?”
“But you made it work. I mean, you and Pop got back together, you’ve been happy, right?” Jake’s voice was much more hopeful than Ben’s. But why shouldn’t he be fine? He wasn’t the cause of his parents’ near-divorce, the reason their father cheated on Ma.
She nodded. “Your father apologized and we went to counseling and figured out how to make our marriage work. It wasn’t easy, but we did it.” She clasped Jake’s hand. “That’s why you’re here, baby. One of the counselor’s suggestions was that we get away, just the two of us. Have the honeymoon we never got to take the first time around.” A soft smile lifted the grief from her face, and her eyes stared into the distance. “Your father took me to Hawaii. It was the first time we’d really gotten away from Bull’s Hollow, the first time either of us had been on a plane. It was wonderful. We fell in love all over again.” Her smile broadened. “Next thing either of us knew, you came along.”
Which explained why she’d always called Jake her special gift.
Ben didn’t remember making the decision to stand up and get a drink, but the icy chill of the water as he gulped it sent a chill through his already-frozen body. His father had cheated on his mother, who’d left him because she’d been overwhelmed caring for her first child. Him.
“Ben? You understand why I couldn’t say anything, right?”
“I understand, but I wish...” What did he wish? That he hadn’t been born? Yeah, way to make this all about you, Grady.
He’d been a typical kid, and his mother hadn’t been much more than a kid when she’d had him. He thought back to when he’d been eighteen—there was no way in hell he would have been mature enough to give up going to college and deal with diapers and potty training and all that responsibility. That thought eased some of the tightness in his throat. “I wish things had been different.”
“Oh, baby, you think it’s your fault, don’t you? It’s not. I don’t want to hear either of you apologizing for things your father and I have done. You’re what brought me back to your father, Benjamin, and I don’t regret that at all. Despite how bad we started out, the mistakes we both made back then, we had a good life together.”
While the disconnect that had blanketed him diminished as she continued to reminisce, it simply morphed into the knowledge that only part of his questions had been answered. But they were questions that could only be addressed to his father’s grave.
* * *
Still numb, Ben parked his truck beside Allie’s car. While he remembered saying goodbye to his mom, he didn’t remember actually getting into his truck or driving home. He wandered onto the porch and stopped, unable to summon the energy to open the door.
Moths danced around the light, while June bugs battered themselves against the bulb. The wind picked up, its dry heat catching dust and sending it in eddies across the browning lawn, the leaves of the trees sounding like rain. At the far end of the porch, the weathered wooden rocking chair moved, as if someone were sitting in it.
How many times had he climbed onto his father’s lap in that chair when he was little? The two of them watching fireflies dart around the crepe myrtles at the fence line until he fell asleep, safe in his father’s arms.
How many times had he told his father, “When I grow up, I’m going to be just like you, Pop”?
For the first time in his life, that wasn’t true anymore.
Allie opened the screen door and stepped off the porch. “Are you all right?”
Was he? Nothing in his life had really changed, had it? His house was still standing, his mom was still alive, his brother and grandmother too. They still owned Bull’s Hollow, though he supposed just how much he owned might be in question, but the cows and horses would still need to be checked in the morning, the chores would need to be done. So why was he feeling like his world had just ended?
Because his mother had walked out on them, and his father had cheated on her while she’d been away. His illusion that he’d had the perfect parents, that they’d been the perfect couple had been just that—an illusion.
Allie slipped in front of him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “It’ll all work out.”
He clung to her and rested his cheek on top of her head. When he’d passed Logan’s trailer and seen his car out front, he vaguely remembered debating whether to pull in and hash everything out with his best friend. Instead he’d headed here, needing to be surrounded by his own things, in his own home. How right was it that Allie was here too?
Her warmth banished the chill that had crept into his bones, letting his mind clear. You can’t change the past, his father had told him that summer he’d fought with Gramps. Oh, Pop, were you talking about your own past? Okay, so he couldn’t change what had happened, but he could influence his future. He had a half brother out there somewhere who possibly had no idea he had a family, or more family, depending upon who’d adopted him. If he could find the guy, invite him to Bull’s Hollow...if he wanted to be part of his life, Ben would welcome him.
Allie shifted in his arms, nestling her head tighter against his shoulder. Could he change that part of his future too?
He buried his nose in her hair and inhaled. “I’m glad you’re still here.”
It was only when her muscles relaxed beneath his palms that he realized she’d been tense. Maybe she’d thought he’d blame the messenger and kick her out. “So am I.”
“Will you stay the night?”
She nodded, her hair tickling his nose. “If you want me to.” Her whisper could barely be heard above the sound of the wind, as if she’d thought raising her voice might shatter the mood.
“I do.” As he led her into the house and up the stairs, he wondered if they’d ever say those words in front of a pastor or a judge. That summer he’d been prepared to say them, not realizing he hadn’t been ready. Would they have ended up like his parents—Allie resenting him, and walking away forever?
Chapter Fourteen
“I’m not sure I can be gentle tonight.” Something dark ran through his veins, a need for control he’d never felt before. The need to know someone wanted him for him, despite his flaws, despite his needs.
Her nipples hardened beneath her shirt, though whether from fear or excitement he wasn’t sure. Then she touched his cheek in a movement as soft as her voice. “Do your worst, cowboy.”
At her acceptance, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her into the house. While some women might disparage it as a caveman mentality, he liked carrying her. She squirmed when he approached the stairs, but instead of asking to be put down, she simply rested her head on his shoulder. “Wow, someone’s been hauling a lot of hay for his workout.”
He paused on the landing. “Does it bug you that I’m a farmer, not a lawyer? That I come home smelling like the back end of a cow some days?”
She squirmed in his arms until she could look up at him. “You own three thousand cattle and over fifty horses. You feed them, care for them twenty-four hours a day. And you care for the dozen people working for you too. Ranche
rs and farmers like you are way more important than us lawyers.”
“Not everyone feels that way.” It had sure as hell bugged Brittany. Even though she’d known from the very first day they’d met that he worked with cattle every day. Now that he thought of it, he was surprised Allie had let him carry her before he’d showered. Is it possible that was one of the reasons his mother had left his father?
“Whoever doesn’t is a shallow idiot.” She hooked her arms around his neck. “You’re a good man, Ben. Don’t let anyone make you feel otherwise. Even me.”
He didn’t say anything in response, but his grip on her tightened.
Once inside his bedroom, he let her feet slide to the floor, keeping her close so she could feel his erection. When she twisted in his arms to grasp the bottom of his shirt to pull over his head, he put his hands on hers, stopping her. “I need to shower first. Will you wait for me here?”
“I’d like to help,” she offered. She slid her hand beneath his shirt, flattening it on his belly. “Soap you up, massage your shoulders. Whatever you need.”
The huskiness of her voice betrayed her intentions. As much as his body was willing, he really needed to reel his control in before he lost it completely. Having her go down on him wasn’t going to help matters. Not yet. “Not this time.” He stopped at the entrance to the bathroom. “Don’t get undressed. Just wait for me.”
The shower started, he quickly stripped, his cock a hard rod slapping his belly, his arms shaking with the need to take Allie against the wall, to take her from behind. To flip her over watch her eyes glaze over, to hear her moan his name when he made her come. But if he went back out there with that caveman mentality, he’d scare her away, and the last thing he wanted to do was lose her again.
* * *
The bathroom light flooded the room for a minute before he firmly closed the door.
She sank onto the bed, trying not to imagine him stripping his clothes off when the shower was started. Watching Ben undress, revealing a taut belly honed from years of hard work, hard, bulging pecs. He’d push his pants over his narrow hips and tight ass, muscular thighs, used to clamping around the sides of a horse, guiding it without reins as he roped a calf or wayward steer.
If she was in there with him, she’d soap every inch of that hard sinewy body, then once the last of the soap swirled around the drain, she’d sink to her knees and take his cock in her mouth. Her panties dampened at the image and the memory of the last time she’d gone down on him.
I’m not sure I can be gentle tonight.
The thought of Ben out of control, thrusting hard into her mouth until his shaft hit the back of her throat, had her clenching her thighs together.
The water shut off, yet he didn’t reappear.
Was he afraid that he’d hurt her? Afraid he’d lose control? Or was he afraid she’d freak out again?
Without thinking, Allie walked to the bathroom to find Ben standing at the counter, naked, his hands braced against it on either side of the sink, his head bowed, wet hair dripping onto his shoulders, onto the floor.
“Whatever you need, I’m here for you.”
His eyes were dark, fierce when he raised his head and met her gaze. “Are you sure?”
“I trust you.” Implicitly. “You’d hurt yourself before you’d hurt me.”
His gaze incinerated her as it raked over her breasts, down her leg and returned. “Strip.”
She knew the chance she took when she shook her head. “No. You undress me.”
A primal sound rumbled from him, one of hunger, desperation or lust, or maybe all three. He caught both sides of her top in both hands and gathered the fabric into his fists, then pulled it apart with a savage wrench. Buttons pinged off the tile, bounced across the floor.
Despite the humidity of the bathroom, she shivered when his fingers brushed the bare skin of her abdomen as he flipped the clasp of her bra. It only took a shrug of her shoulders, and the silk of her blouse and bra whispered over her back, down her sides, leaving her completely naked from the waist up. Her breath caught at the pure masculine intensity in his eyes.
She couldn’t stop another tremor of pure need from creeping under her skin. This Ben was different from the man in the hotel room just days before or in the field two weeks ago. He was definitely different from the boy who had been her first lover. She wanted to know more about this side of him. Wanted him to touch her, kiss her. Use her. Fuck her. And fuck her hard.
He swooped down and captured her mouth in a hard, demanding kiss. A declaration of possession. He tasted of coffee and peanut butter, a part of her brain noticed as her hands explored the smooth skin stretched over his spine. He was so strong he’d carried her like she weighed nothing. By the time he’d put her down, she’d been ready to crawl all over him. And now? She’d do whatever he wanted without question.
She arched into his touch when his large, callused palms cradled her breasts, pinching the nipples. Pleasure streaked through her, settling as a weight in her pussy.
At her whimper, he broke off the kiss and stared down at her.
“Don’t stop.” She heaved in a breath to speak against the emotions coursing through her. She was tempted to say “fuck me right the hell now” but that might be all he needed to push him over the edge and she didn’t want this to end too quickly.
One by one he plucked the pins holding her hair in its French twist. Once the long strands brushed her shoulders, he caught one between his thumb and forefinger, then wrapped a long length around his fist.
No words were needed to know what he wanted. Allie sunk to her knees on the hard tile floor. Her mouth watered at the sight of the hard ridge of his cock, the head swollen and glistening in the harsh bathroom light. His grasp on her hair tightened, urging her closer. The moment she parted her lips, he pressed his cock over her lips, over her tongue, burying himself deep in her mouth. His taste exploded on her tongue as he pulled back and thrust in again. Hard. She braced herself by clutching the back of his thighs as his thrusts grew frantic.
Beneath her palms his thighs were taut, his grunts with each pump arousing her to a frenzy.
* * *
Ben knew he should slow down, knew he should be gentle, but the sight of Allie on her knees, his dick deep in her warm, wet mouth, her tongue pressing on him as if he were buried in her pussy just about blew his fucking mind.
He’d expected her to back away, to be afraid, yet she’d challenged him, accepted his bad mood and gotten on her knees with no trace of fear. She deserved better than this. She did, yet he couldn’t stop himself. His world had taken a hit, tilted on its axis and turned on its head but she was still there. Her lips swollen and pink around his cock, her eyes with that sparkly eye shadow she wore, staring up at him as if he were some fucking god.
He groaned when she wrapped her hand around his sac and rolled them between her fingers. Then she deep-throated him and hummed. Talk about a goddess of pleasure. His eyes just about rolled back in his head. He buried both hands in her hair and clung to her as if she were an anchor and without her, he’d float off the floor.
It had taken every ounce of control to walk into the bathroom instead of toss her on the bed, flip her on her stomach and mount her like a bull. Now look at him, not caring about her needs, only his own. She should at least be getting the same pleasure he was out of this, he realized, so he growled, “Touch yourself. Make yourself come.”
The hand she’d been using to brace herself slipped between her legs. If her eyes had been soft-focused before, they went all dewy now. Her breasts seemed larger, heavier, her nipples bright red nubs begging for attention too. They’d get their turn, he vowed. But not before his brain short-circuited and he spilled into her mouth in long, hard pulses.
It took some of the edge off, but not enough. Not nearly enough. Beyond words, he hauled her up from the floor and carried her into the bedroom. The moment his knees hit the mattress he let her fall, then crawled between her thighs.
Her fra
grance filled his head, her perfume mingling with her arousal, and sent his brains spinning. His fingers digging into the soft flesh of her thighs, he lowered his head and indulged. He craved her taste, couldn’t get enough of it, so he feasted on her, his cock regaining its strength from her soft moans. He rocked his fingers into her opening at the same time he caught her clit between his teeth and tugged.
Her hips arched, pressing against his mouth, her body clamping around his now-dripping fingers. “Ben!”
His ego roared that she could barely gasp his name. Yet it wasn’t enough, not near enough. Higher and higher he drove her, devouring her essence, as if it were the only source of his survival. He sucked harder, his cock wishing it were inside her when her body went rigid and she leaped over the edge.
* * *
A light sheen of sweat coating her body, Allie sank bonelessly onto the bed. While Ben had always done an excellent job of going down on her, there’d been a ferocity to him tonight she’d never experienced before.
“You set the bar pretty high for next time,” she murmured.
A look of pure satisfaction crossed his face. “That was just the warm-up. I’m not done with you yet.”
“I should hope not.” Anticipation wiggled beneath her skin at the passion on his face as his gaze traveled over her body. Her nipples hardened in tight buds and her breasts felt heavier, and the air around her thickened.
He rolled off the bed and stalked over to his dresser, the bright moonlight light limning his body, accentuating the linear muscles on his abdomen, the ropey muscles of his arms and his thighs, the smooth curve of his ass. It was a body hardened by a lifetime of hard work, more reminiscent of the Greek statues than a body sculpted in a gym.
He pulled a package out of the drawer, but instead of returning to the bed, he ordered, “No peeking,” and disappeared into the bathroom. There was the sound of running water, then he returned with the package, and a towel draped over his shoulder. She forced herself to stay still as he knelt at the side of his bed and withdrew a bottle of lube, then a hot pink butt plug, and placed them both on the bed beside her knee.