by Tessa Layne
The voices wandered off and Ben drew in a long breath, trying to settle the pounding in his ribs. He waited another minute then picked his way toward the river.
Bushes rustled behind him. Ben spun, finger on the trigger, and received a blast of cool liquid in the chest. Reeling back, Ben glanced down as paint splattered onto his face. Pink.
Hope.
What the fuck?
She stepped out from behind the bushes, laughing. “Gotcha, big guy. Who knew you looked so good in pink?”
He wiped paint out of his eyes. “What the hell was that for? We’re on the same side.”
“Are we?” Laughter still tinged her voice. “Rules said last man standing gets the girl.”
“That’s me,” he growled.
“Not anymore.”
“What do you mean?” For a split second dread cut through him, flipping his stomach around. Had he miscounted? Who was it? Who had he missed?
Her laughter stopped his train of thought. “I’m the last one standing. I get the girl.” She danced around him, unable to contain her glee at besting not only her brothers, but him.
This was so not over. He raised his soaker and zig-zagged the nozzle, sending blue stripes of paint across her chest.
Hope’s jaw dropped as she examined her coat. Then narrowed her eyes. “You didn’t just do that.”
He waggled his eyebrows. “Seems I just did, darlin’.”
“This is war.” She furiously pumped her soaker, then aimed, emptying the contents over Ben.
He had her now. She was completely out of paint, and the refill buckets were a good hundred yards in the other direction. “How’s that war working for you now?” He advanced on her, slowly pumping air back into his soaker. “You know, sweetheart, it pays to sit on your powder and fire last.”
She let out a nervous giggle, eyes scanning the small clearing for an escape.
“Oh there’s no escape.”
She raised her hands in supplication, eyes filled with laughter. “Ben. I swear…”
“Swear what? You’ll get me? I think I’m the one that’ll be doing the getting.”
“Please, Ben…” she giggled. “Please?”
He took a step closer. She side-stepped and lunged for the bushes. In one motion, he dropped his soaker and caught her around the waist, spinning them both to the ground.
“Ben,” she squealed, laughing and trying to crawl out of his grasp.
He rolled and pinned her with his hips. Her hands were everywhere, covered in paint. “I swear to God, Ben,” she gasped between breaths, then smeared a paint-covered hand across his cheek.
“Oh, you’ll pay for that,” he grinned down at her. Her eyes widened, as she gasped for air between breathless giggles. Grabbing her wrists, he pulled her arms above her head, and clasped them with one hand. Running his hand across her paint-soaked coat, he returned the favor, smearing paint across one of her cheeks and her nose. “Blue paint is a good look for you.” She really did look adorable, all pink and rosy and breathless, blue eyes snapping with humor, covered in paint.
She rolled her hips under him and the energy instantly changed. Awareness replaced good-natured teasing. Hope’s eyes darkened and she rolled her hips again, setting off a volcano that turned his blood molten. She arched into him, and he was lost.
He brought his mouth to hers in a demanding, claiming kiss. One that left no room for question about his intentions. She met him halfway, a little noise escaping from the back of her throat. He plunged his tongue into the sweet recesses of her mouth, tasting. Exploring.
Still as sweet as before.
Her uniquely Hope scent cut through the aroma of paint and dirt, setting his brain cells swirling. Her tongue slid against his, stoking the heat in his belly. Keeping her arms above her head, he traced her with his other hand, seeking and finding the curve of her hip, her waist.
She sucked on his tongue, inviting him to go deeper. At the same time she pressed her hips into his ramrod stiff cock, grinding against him. His balls tightened as a bolt of hot need surged through his belly. The risk of being caught, of someone stumbling upon them only served to heighten his arousal, and he gave into the heady sensations swimming through him.
Her rhythmic thrusts threatened to undo him right there, and he struggled to hang on to some semblance of control. He skittered his fingers across her ribs, remembering she was extremely ticklish, and settled at the curve of her breast. Running his thumb over the swell until he found her hardened nub pushing against the fabric.
She gave a tug with her arms, and he released her, bringing his hand to her cheek. Her hands came to his waist and she began to pull on his shirt. When her paint-covered hands made contact with his back, he came to his senses, and he broke away, breathing heavily.
Hope’s eyes were glazed and filled with raw lust. “Oh no. You don’t get to do this to me again.”
He placed a finger on her lips, willing his breathing to return to normal. “We’ve just begun. I promise.” He tugged on a paint-smeared braid. But I don’t think your brothers will take kindly to finding us like this in the woods.”
She gave him a pout. “What about what I want?”
“I promise I’ll give you everything you want and then some.” He rolled off her and reluctantly got to his feet. He extended a hand to help her up. “Look at us.” He pushed aside her coat. “You have my hand print here.” He traced the swell of her breast with the back of his finger, and she hissed out.
She slapped her hand against his, trapping it against her. “Maybe I like it there.”
A possessive kind of pride he’d never experienced before swelled through him. “I like it too, don’t get me wrong.”
“What in the hell is going on?” Axel burst into the clearing, and Ben took a step back, not missing the flash of hurt that crossed Hope’s face.
Gunnar came through next looking as fierce as a berserker. Their families might have buried the hatchet at Blake and Maddie’s wedding, but it seemed like the handle had still been left out. Gunnar stood looking back and forth between the two of them, eyes full of suspicion. Hope’s face stayed surprisingly neutral. Ben hoped his was, but he wasn’t sure.
“What the hell are you doing to my sister?” Gunnar’s voice held a note of menace that set Ben on guard.
“None of your damned business,” Hope snapped. “Let me tell you what’s going on, brothers.” Her voice dripped with anger. “All that pink paint? That was me. Ben might have gotten off a few shots of blue paint, but you’re looking at the last man standing.”
Both Axel and Gunnar’s eyes swung toward Ben. “Who, him?” Axel asked, disbelieving.
“No, you dingbats. Me. I. Win.”
Gunnar’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “But you’re covered in paint.”
“We… ah… had a little dispute after the fact,” Ben stepped in, giving Hope a significant look. “She got me first. I just had to make her pay a little bit.” He winked at Hope’s brothers. They did not look amused.
“Then why you both covered in dirt?” Axel took a step forward, hand flexing. He wasn’t buying this for a second.
“That is between me and the loser,” Hope answered, giving Ben a significant look back. “Here’s the deal. I played your damned game. I put a smile on my face every time I went into town. I’ve endured ribbing, jokes at my expense, and perfect strangers leering at me. And I’m done. I won, and now I’m going home to take a shower.”
Axel and Gunnar at least looked a little bashful as she swept by them, head held high. But then they both zeroed in on Ben. “So you and my sis gonna be a thing?” Axel asked suspiciously.
“Depends.”
“On what?” Gunnar asked, folding his arms across his chest.
He wasn’t in the mood to have this conversation with Axel and Gunnar right now. He picked up his discarded super-soaker, and headed for the far end of the clearing. “On what Hope wants.”
CHAPTER 9
Hope stepped out of the s
hower and wrapped herself in a towel. She twisted another around her soaking hair, and padded down the hall to her old bedroom. Covering those cocky young cowboys in pink paint had been so worth it. And the expressions on Axe and Gunn’s faces when they realized she’d pulled one over on them… priceless. Hopefully now they’d give her some space.
She paused in the doorway, scanning the room. Her suitcase lay open on the window seat under the dormer. Horse posters and a heart-shaped collage of her favorite country stars covered the pink wall over her bed. A white and gold princess vanity stood across from the bed. Even though she’d been an unabashed tomboy growing up, she’d gone through a frilly princess phase at about ten years old. And while the vanity was hideous, she’d never been able to let it go.
She really should spend time redecorating. Her mother would appreciate it. Martha had been after her for years to take down all her teenage paraphernalia so she could convert Hope’s room into another guest room. Of course, now that Hope was home indefinitely, her mom had been unusually quiet about the state of her room.
We’ve just begun.
I promise.
Her body warmed as she replayed the kiss she and Ben had shared. She sat down on the threadbare puff that was now covered with her favorite antique quilt and began to towel off. Hope studied the paint-spattered clothes lying in a heap by her hamper.
She’d been startled, standing in front of the mirror before she’d peeled them off. The vision of Ben’s big handprint splayed across her breast, even smeared, had been arresting and erotic. Like he’d claimed her. Imprinted himself on her. Of course, he’d already done that so long ago, she couldn’t even remember the exact moment she knew she loved Ben with all her heart. It had just… happened. Stole upon her like the first caress of a spring breeze.
Shutting her eyes, she conjured the sensation of his hand again. Goosebumps rippled across her exposed skin, hardening her nipples into tight peaks. Her clit ached with want. A shudder rippled through her, and her hand drifted toward her curls, lightly fluttering over her slick folds. She released a frustrated sigh. Just the thought of Ben touching her made her pussy drip. She slid a finger through her slippery opening, dipping in and drawing back out to circle her clit with her wetness.
Hands were a poor substitute for Ben’s weight against her, his mouth on hers, his tongue sliding against hers. She wanted his mouth on her breast, his tongue licking at her until she wailed, his cock pushing into her until she shattered. The intensity of her need pressed against her chest, squeezing at her heart until she couldn’t breathe. She rolled her hips into her hand, pressing her mound into her palm. Tears pricked her eyelids, and she let her head fall back.
“Ben,” she whispered, as her throat constricted with longing.
Tension built low across her belly, and she thrust harder into herself, rocking her hips and clenching her muscles in an effort to relieve the agony.
I promise I’ll give you everything you want and then some…
Picturing his face above her was enough to push her over the edge, and her orgasm melted over her. Not enough. Not nearly enough to satisfy the hunger that had burned in her for too long. But enough to take the edge off and give her a modicum of sanity while she figured out what to do next.
Would he be waiting at the tree house? She’d bet her last penny he’d show up tonight. Would it be better to march over to the Big House and ask to see him? She knew he lived in one of the bunkhouses, but she wasn’t sure which one.
No.
Whatever it was that still festered between them, would stay private for now. She’d already experienced enough public humiliation to last a lifetime. She didn’t want the whole town weighing in on whether she and Ben ought to be a thing. Hell, she wasn’t even sure how he felt, other than their obvious attraction.
She brushed out her tangles and parted her hair, braiding it as the thoughts cascaded over her. Would this just be a casual fling for him? Was he looking for something deeper? Would he push her and try to control her the way the other men in her life had?
Only one way to find out. She flipped her braids behind her and dug a clean pair of jeans out of her suitcase. These were a little snugger than her favorite pair, but they’d suffice. She picked out a clean shirt, a simple white western, threaded with golden stripes. She better not let Axe and Gunn see her leaving the house. They’d accuse her of having a date. This was about as dressy as she got.
Not that this was a date.
More like a hook-up.
She rooted through the suitcase looking for anything that resembled sexy underthings. Ugh. She was the world’s unsexiest person. Maybe she was wired wrong. But what was the point of spending hard-earned cash on lacy, non-functional undergarments? In her experience, if the shirt was already off, the quality of the undergarments didn’t affect the endgame.
But suddenly, she wanted to look… pretty.
Feminine.
Hope snorted and shook herself. The closest she’d get to being a Victoria’s Secret model tonight was pink cotton bikinis and a plain white bra. She dressed quickly and opened the drawer of her bedside table, fishing until she found a length of condom wrappers. Chance favors the prepared. Grinning, she ripped off four, folded them, and jammed them into her front pocket.
She paused at the door to put on her favorite boots and her old, beat-up, felt cowboy hat. Her coat was still wet, but she’d help herself to another in the closet. Maybe she’d steal Axe’s, just to mess with him.
Just then, a wicked idea entered her mind. She crossed back to the vanity and grabbed her favorite bottle of perfume. She rarely wore it, but the idea of drenching her brother’s coat in perfume made her giggle. She could get used to pranking her brothers. Lord knows, she’d been the target of a lifetime of theirs. It was time to turn the tables.
Twenty minutes later, she picked her way across the old stepping stones she and Ben had placed across the creek when she’d been about ten. As the tree house came into view, Hope’s heart began to race. Ben wasn’t the kind of guy to stand up a girl. He was too nice for that. But still, the fear of rejection lurked right underneath the anticipation thrumming through her. Whatever happened here this evening, she was not giving her heart to Ben. They were two consenting adults enjoying each other’s company.
Sure, they might get cozy with their clothes off. She hoped they did. But this would be nothing more than the culmination of a childhood crush. Tying up a loose end. Laying to rest unfinished business so they both could move on.
She reached the ladder and stopped. Steeling herself for whatever was to come, Hope took a slow steadying breath. The butterflies in her stomach didn’t get the message. She worried her lip between her teeth as she gazed up the ladder. Why did this moment feel like such a big deal? Instead of climbing up a ladder with the hopes of getting laid, why did it feel like she was stepping off a cliff with no safety net?
“C’mon, girl. It’s just sex,” she muttered. Taking a final deep breath, she hauled herself up the ladder and onto the deck. The door stood ajar. Ben must be waiting inside. As she approached, she caught the smell of Chinese food. Pushing the door open further, two huge bags stood on the table. “You didn’t.”
Ben flashed a grin at her from the chair he occupied. “Hungry?”
For you.
He’d showered too. And shaved. Forget food. Her body was hungry for him. Food could wait. She stepped through the door and closed it behind her. The space seemed to shrink until there was only Ben. His eyes bored into her, and the fingers he’d been tapping on the table stilled. His body tensed as she stared back.
Was he nervous?
She’d never seen Ben nervous about anything. He positively exuded confidence and calm. It was one of the things she remembered being irritated about growing up. Ben never seemed to get upset about anything. And that was part of why his rejection had been so devastating. It was the first and only time she’d ever seen him truly angry. But that was in the past. Tonight was a reset on everythin
g.
She broke the tension and stepped forward, throwing a leg across his lap and settling herself on his rock-hard thighs. His hands pushed underneath her coat to loosely grasp her waist, but his eyes never left hers.
“Hope… I know I–”
“Shhh.” She placed a finger over his mouth. “No talking.” She traced his mouth with her finger and he captured the digit between his teeth, sucking it into his mouth, swirling his tongue around her finger like it was a piece of candy. His grip tightened at her waist.
Good Lord.
A flood of warmth raced to her pussy. There were so many places she wanted his tongue. His eyes lit with undisguised lust. He pulled his mouth away and shifted in his seat. She wasn’t going to give him the chance to speak.
Not this time.
Kissing first, then talking.
She grabbed the edges of his coat and leaned in, slowly brushing her mouth across his. His lips parted and she slipped her tongue inside, tasting him. A noise came from the back of his throat and his arms wrapped around her like a vice. His tongue met hers, sliding and thrusting as he took control of the kiss. He angled his head, deepening their connection. His essence filled her senses, woodsmoke and soap, and that uniquely Ben scent that she was beginning to recognize.
Hope pushed back her hat, letting it fall to the floor, then brought her hands to Ben’s head. Touching his hair, feeling his thick, dark waves slide through her fingers, sent a shiver down her spine. It was as sensuous as she’d imagined.
Pushing back from him, but keeping her eyes locked on Ben’s, she shimmied out of her coat. He did the same. A hungry, feral light flared in his eyes as he traced her. “You clean up good, Hope.”
“I said no talking,” she practically growled as she took in the way his white shirt stretched across his broad chest.
He pulled gently on a braid, drawing her eyes back to meet his. “We don’t have to discuss anything you don’t want to, but I’m damned well gonna tell you when I like what I see.” He wound her braid across his palm and drew her close. So close, his breath tickled her skin. “You’re beautiful, Hope.”