The tips of my fingers and tongue tingled with anticipation, eager to feel her again.
A wadded napkin smacked the side of my face. Knowing full well I was caught staring, a cocky grin spread up my cheeks as I pulled my gaze to meet hers.
“Don't ask a question if you won't bother listening to the answer,” she said with an eye roll.
“Then don't taunt me with your perfect nipples poking out, stealing my attention.”
Beks huffed a laugh around another bite of sandwich and chips. “You're the one who walked over here unannounced. Or did you forget that tidbit.”
Right. To avoid acknowledging the accuracy of her words, I took a healthy bite of sandwich instead of responding.
“Bradley is fine. Not great, but fine. Now that we're on the subject, how do you plan on finding the men he owes the money to?” The slight dip of her tone told of her worry, which made my damn day—it meant she did still care about me. I'd begun to think she wasn’t kidding about using me only for my body.
Did that make me an asshole? Yeah, probably. But I wanted her to care because I did, even though there was no future between us. Her home was here and mine in Kentucky, plus being gone six months to a year at a time on deployments. The army wife life wasn't the life she needed. Beks deserved better than that. Hell, better than me.
I pushed out of the chair with a stifled groan and collapsed beside her on the swing.
“I'll talk to your brother, or maybe Kyle can help me. I’ll get it taken care of, and believe me, I've been around worse people, so don't worry.”
She peered up through dark lashes with those sultry, honey brown eyes. “Okay, no worrying. Listen, this morning I want to find and patch up that injured heifer we found yesterday, and I overheard Daddy talking about some things that need to be done that I'd like to do. Wanna play ranch hand with me for the day?”
One boot on the ground, I crossed the other over my knee. “Do you ever slow down?”
“That's life in the country, Sir Fancy Pants. There’s always something that needs to be done, so no. No one around here does.”
I fixated on her hypnotizing eyes, in awe of the woman she was. Beks had no idea how sexy that drive and work ethic made her. When all I'd been around were Dallas socialites looking for an easy life and military groupies who only wanted someone to provide a stable life, Beks was refreshing.
But it was also unacceptable for someone like her. Someone who deserved to be cherished and spoiled rotten.
“Has anyone ever treated you the way you deserve?” I asked as I slid my hand into hers to intertwine her long fingers with mine. “Spoiled you?”
Her incredulous snort in response made me chuckle.
“Besides some rich, arrogant bastard buying me a brand-new truck? No, B, and that's okay. I don't need any of that stuff to be happy.”
“What do you need to be happy?” I asked, truly interested.
Beks’s thoughtful, deep sigh made uncomfortable pressure build in my chest. Anything she said, I'd give her. Hell, I could give her the entire world on a platter if she just asked. But knowing what little I did about this woman, money wouldn't be a part of the happiness equation.
“Honestly, that’s a good question. One that I’m not entirely sure on the answer.” She shifted against the wooden slats of the swing to lean against the armrest and tucked her toes under my ass. Dammit, just that simple touch had my finally semi-soft dick stiff again. I needed a long cold shower. Now. “I thought after getting my degree, I'd be happy. Thought after I got into a groove at the practice, I'd be happy. Then I thought after getting closure on our past, I’d finally be happy.”
“But you're not.”
Beks’s gaze focused over my shoulder as she tucked a lock of unruly dark brown hair behind her ear. “I'm not unhappy, just… not happy. Being out here though, minus the unpleasant interactions with Daddy, a bit of the happiness I'd lost somewhere along the way has resurfaced. Maybe it's remembering the fond memories of us instead of the bad, or working a piece of land I have pride in.” Honey brown eyes locked with mine. “Or maybe it's you. Being with you the past couple of days reminded me of what true happiness is, of what it feels like to have a permanent smile stuck on my face. I don’t know. Maybe before your grandfather’s funeral, I was simply content.”
My gaze didn't falter from hers when I responded, “I know what you mean.”
“Do you though? You have everything you could ever want. How in the hell could you not be happy?”
I scanned down to her plump pink lips, to her perky perfect breasts, to her delicious center that pushed against the seam of her pajama pants, begging me to lick it. Like Pavlov’s dog, my tongue slid along my lower lip, impatient for another chance to taste her.
“Money only emphasizes who you already are instead of changing it. You watched my fucked-up family life, saw the life Caleb and I lived. If you’re a mean old bastard who’s unhappy with life, money makes it easier to spread that misery. And I have to think—not that I'd know, of course—that if you're happy, truly happy, the money part isn’t the foundation. It’s just a plus, because that isn't what makes you happy.”
“Do you want to be happy?” she asked in a soft voice.
“Yes,” I said, still focused on her crotch. “But it might be too late for me.” Breaking my entranced stare, I flicked my eyes up to her amused smirk. “But it’s not for you. Tomorrow we're getting you out of here. Tomorrow we're doing something just for you.”
Shock registered on her face as she held out her hands. “No way. You've already done too much with the truck and offering to help—”
“Tomorrow.” Unable to fight the insistent urge any longer, I leaned forward to seal my mouth over hers. “I need to make some calls,” I said against her lips. “You go change and meet me in the barn. I'm helping you with that chores list today.”
Without another word, I sucked her bottom lip between mine and shoved off the swing. Halfway to the barn, I glanced back to make sure she was obeying, but instead of finding an empty porch, I saw Beks still in the swing with a broad, happy smile spread across her beautiful face.
17
Rebeka
The hem of the denim skirt grazed along the backs of my upper thighs as I smoothed it down with both hands. With a scowl, I glared at my reflection. Last time I wore this skirt, it was looser—damn donuts—but it was the best and only option I had. Paired with a loose white V-neck T-shirt and brown wedges, I was ready for a fun night out on the town.
Which I was. Especially since Brenton was coming too. Somehow while repairing a small section of mangled fence, I’d mentioned the fun plans for tonight with Ryder and Kyle. It must’ve been the effects of heat exhaustion to mention it, and for Brenton to ask if he could join us.
Okay, he didn't ask. Brenton Graves doesn't ask—he tells.
The mental image of Sir Fancy Pants in Dos Amigos mixing and mingling with all the roughnecks and ranch hands made me internally cringe every time I pictured it.
I shot a worried look to Ryder, who was focused on freshening up her bright red lipstick. Her eyes rolled to the ceiling and stayed there.
“Listen, don’t worry about me. I'll be nice to the guy, promise. But don't let him being there prevent you from hitting on other guys.” Right, like possessive Brenton would let that happen. I already felt bad for any guy who breathed too close to me. “Because those other guys aren't leaving and could be more than just a fun four-day fling.”
Ouch. But she was right, even though what Brenton and I felt for each other was deeper than a fling.
I cringed at her brutal honesty and turned back to the mirror. “I know.”
“Do you?” she said with an annoyed tone that was rare for her to use toward me.
“No.”
“That's what I thought. Does he know that?”
Looking at her sitting on the edge of the bed through the reflection, I gave a noncommittal shrug. “I told him I know he's leaving, and at least this tim
e it wouldn't be a shock. I begged for what happened last night between us. Begged him. Don't make him out to be the bad guy. Before, yes, when he chose his inheritance over the baby and me, he was the bad guy. But now I'm older, he's older, and we're two adults who know what's on the table.”
The bed squeaked when she pushed off the mattress. Tiny arms wrapped around my waist, and her warm cheek pressed against my bare bicep. “I don't want to see you get hurt again is all.”
“I missed it.”
In our reflection, her eyes flicked up to mine. “Missed what?”
“Being someone’s. I love being in his arms, protected and cherished. It might be a short-lived thing, but it’s amazing feeling this way again. I feel wanted, desired every time we’re together. I never want it to end.”
My vision blurred as I stared unseeing at our reflection.
Was I an idiot for playing with the same fire that burned me before?
The sun had already set, the heat from the day less brutal, when we stepped through the front door out onto the porch. I paused to watch Brenton and Kyle in an in-depth discussion. Both the men’s brows were furrowed, scowls of concentration on their faces. Brenton's eyes flicked over to where I stood just outside the door. Warmth bloomed in my stomach, twisting and turning at his unabashed perusal up my bare legs.
“We're driving separate,” he announced to the other two, keeping his heated gaze locked with mine. Each stomp of his boots made my heart skip, inching up the anticipation of what naughty things he had in mind. A callused hand wrapped around mine as he passed to tug me along with him.
The passionate heat between us blazed hotter the moment the doors to the truck slammed closed. Instead of pulling me to him like I expected, Brenton pressed the Start button and kept his attention out the windshield.
“You look nice,” I said to the window as I stared out into the darkness. It was a complete understatement. He looked like he belonged on the cover of a sexy cowboy calendar. The way his dark denim Wranglers hugged his ass was almost sinful, and the crisp, white, pearl snap shirt somehow brightened his already striking green eyes.
The corners of my lips dipped when he didn't respond or return the compliment. I cut my eyes to the driver side and found him gripping the wheel so tight his knuckles were white.
Whatever. I looked cute and wouldn't let him dampen the fun night ahead.
The second the thought crossed my mind, Brenton whipped the truck down an old county road and slammed on the brakes. He snapped off the headlights, dousing the entire area in darkness; only the faint glow from the navigation screen and controls on the dash highlighted the inside of the cab.
“If you don't want your panties ripped off your fine ass, I suggest you take them off. Now.”
My shocked gasp sounded over the arctic air conditioning blowing through the cab. Through the soft glow of the lights, he kept his eyes locked on mine while his hands blindly worked on his belt.
“I won't ask again, Rebeka.”
Not a single muscle responded. All I could do was watch his hand wrapped around his massive cock, squeezing so hard it looked painful. Wetness pooled between my legs at the sight. In a dense lust fog, my fingers fumbled with the seat belt latch, eager to get closer to him. The center console pushed into my ribs as I leaned over to the driver side.
Demanding fingers dove into the depths of my hair at the first lick of my tongue from base to tip.
“Fuck,” he breathed. Those fingers tightened against my scalp at my soft hum of agreement.
My ass was in the air as Brenton shoved the thick denim to bunch at my waist. The sting of elastic stretched to its max against my skin lasted a few seconds before it snapped under the pressure. I groaned around him and shifted my angle to take him deeper with each dip of my head.
Fuck, that was hot. Never had my underwear ripped off my body before. Never had someone need me with that much intensity.
The first smack across my bare ass caught me by surprise, but the second I leaned into, silently asking for more. His hot palm skimmed down between both cheeks and dove between my legs to slide two fingers inside.
One hand still in my hair, he held me close as he shifted his hips off the seat.
“Fuck, yes. Damn your perfect mouth,” he groaned as he thrust faster. Each tilt of his hips was more demanding than the previous. In rhythm with his thrusts, his fingers pushed into me. We urged the other for more, desperate for release.
A quick twist of his fingers pressed my sensitive spot, shooting me over the edge. My moans and gasps triggered his own with a loud curse.
Fog covered the windows and our heavy pants echoed in the cab as we came down from the high. “You'll be impossible to let go, Beks,” he said into my hair after pulling me against his heaving chest.
As much as I didn't want it to, his words sparked a ray of hope in my heart.
Maybe this time he wouldn't leave after all.
As we made our way through the parking lot of Dos Amigos, the stiff denim skirt brushed against my sensitive ass cheeks, still stinging from Brenton’s rough slap. Music blared from inside the doors as a local band played on a small stage. With Brenton’s hand pressing against my lower back, we weaved through the crowd toward the bar.
A clearly frustrated Ryder stepped in front of us, blocking our path before she gripped my arm, yanking me toward the bathroom.
I glanced back at Brenton, who also looked confused, and shrugged. Whatever she wanted to talk about was urgent. Maybe she and Kyle got into a fight on the way over and needed a quick venting session.
Once inside the bathroom, Ryder leaned a hip against the sink and gave a knowing glare. “You reek of sex. Did you fuck him in the truck?”
All the other murmurs in the small space paused, and ten sets of eyes turned to me.
I tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. “Not technically.” Shit, she was mad.
“Girl,” Ryder admonished. Pulling her disapproving gaze from me, she focused on the chipped mirror to touch up her lipstick. “You better know what you're doing. Because from my perspective, you're an idiot woman who's letting that hottie out there play you like a fiddle. Again.”
“And so what if I am?” I tossed my hands in the air before running them through my hair in frustration. “What does it matter if I like being around him again, or like the way he makes me feel? I'm just as confused as you, believe me. I'm still in love with the man who left me, but Ryder, that wasn't him. He's a good man, and an even better one now. What he did was terrible, and I should hate him, but guess what? I've hated him for years and it hasn't gotten me anywhere. And you know what else? It feels damn good to be wanted by someone again, to have that connection. So yeah, maybe I'm getting carried away, but I'm thirty fucking years old, not seventeen.”
“Don't be mad at me for saying out loud what you already know,” she deadpanned.
“What, that he's a good man who made a mistake?” I gritted out.
“That he's a Graves, and the moment you're not useful anymore, he will toss you aside. Again.”
“He might not! Tonight he said—”
“Oh, you should believe what a guy says after you let him fuck your mouth.”
“Stop it,” I yelled and turned for the door. “You don't get it. And I might not understand it either, but I'm not going to let that stop me from trying to be happy. Even if it's just for a few days.”
The door slammed against the wall when I shoved through it and stepped into the growing crowd. Glancing around for Brenton, I came up empty.
Where in the hell is he?
Damn, I need a drink.
A few cute cowboys tugged at my arm to detour my pursuit, but I shrugged each one off. At the bar, I hopped onto an open barstool, not giving two shits where Kyle and Brenton—or Ryder, for that matter—were.
The somewhat cute bartender with tattoos up his arms and neck leaned against the bar and asked what I wanted. Three days ago, I would’ve swooned over this guy, but now all I could do was
appreciate the inked artwork.
After ordering two shots of tequila, I watched him pour out three. With a wink, he clinked one against the shot glass in my hand and tipped it back. With a tight smile, I followed suit, then again with the second one.
I raised my hand to order another when a massive, rough, old hand grasped mine and eased it back to the bar.
“Slow down there, sweetheart,” said the older cowboy perched on the stool to my right. “Going to the bottom of the bottle isn't the solution to whatever you're fightin'. I would know.”
I glanced at the plastic water cup in his hand while I wiped the remaining cheap tequila from my lips. The alcohol swirled in my near-empty stomach.
“The bottom of the bottle seems like a nice place to hide though.” The rounded edge of the bar pressed into my ribs as I leaned over to flag down the bartender for another round. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the man’s gray brows rise in surprise. “The boy I was in love with as a kid is back in my life after royally fucking me over. But here's the kicker—he doesn't remember doing it. And now I'm here wondering if what happened was his doing or someone else’s, and on top of that, the man he is now is amazing. Military, gorgeous, tattoos….” I sighed and downed the shot the bartender placed in front of me. “I'm playing with fire, I know I am, but hell, I've been cold for so long, the heat is welcomed.”
“You think he'll mess you over again. That's why you're drinking.”
“My best friend and I just got in a fight about it.”
“Ah, she disapproves?”
“Yeah. She pretty much said I'm an idiot, and this time when he fucks me over, it’ll be like taking it in the ass with no lube.”
Our entire side of the bar turned their attention to the old man after he spewed water across it. Wide-eyed, he turned on the stool to face me straight on, tipped his Stetson, and smiled.
“Is that an invitation?”
Vote Then Read: Volume III Page 233