Vote Then Read: Volume III

by Aleatha Romig

  “What was said on the plane—”

  “I don't want to talk about it anymore. Can we please—” I looked out the windshield, hoping to find my next words. “—table it? I want to enjoy whatever you have planned, and remembering that time, dredging up those awful feelings and memories, isn't something I want dampening it.”

  The knuckles gripping the door turned white, but he didn't object. “I still have a lot of questions, about that night, about what happened next, so this conversation isn't over. You're not letting me off that easy.”

  The door slammed shut with a solid thud. I tracked Brenton as he rounded the hood, sliding his sunglass on as he walked. Hot damn, the man was so far out of my league. Back then and now. His tan skin, dark hair, and gorgeous eyes—oh, and that body. It made him the man every woman’s erotic fantasy centered around. And I loved all that, loved every physical inch, but what I adored most were the pieces of himself he only showed me. That soft, emotional heart he hid beneath the gruff, arrogant, controlling exterior.

  Which I also happened to love.

  All the cards were on the table now. He knew everything about that night that I knew, and it was fucking freeing. A weight I'd carried the past few days—hell, the past thirteen years—lifted from my shoulders. Just like Ryder said, I needed closure to let go of that night and the events that followed. Being with him, helping him with his blackouts the past few days, had given me exactly that.

  I hated that I was getting closure on an old wound when his agony was beginning. Our conversation on the plane had ripped open an old wound he wasn’t even aware he’d had until today.

  But he would recover just as I did. Brenton and I, we were survivors. And survivors moved on from the hurt, not allowing their pasts to define who they were and rob them of a happy, fulfilling future.

  Sky-high apartment buildings towered overhead as Brenton zipped through the busy downtown city streets. Older homes lined one side of the road while the other had small businesses of varying types. As he drove, I studied the variety of people crowding along the wide sidewalks. I never wanted to live in a big city like Dallas, but visiting, playing the role for a couple of hours, was entertaining for sure.

  “You hungry?” Brenton asked, breaking my focus with a heavy, warm hand squeezing my inner upper thigh.

  With a broad smile, I turned and said, “Starving. Anywhere around here we can get pancakes?”

  “Go away,” I muttered into the comforter beneath my cheek.

  Brenton responded with a deep, amused chuckle. “You have to get up if you don't want to spoil my plans for you.”

  “What plans?” I grumbled, opening one eye to see if he was serious. The pancakes, eggs, and never-ending mimosas at brunch had me in a food coma. Napping away the afternoon with him by my side sounded way better than anything he could suggest.

  “I made you some spa—”

  “Thank you, but no. Nap.”

  The walls seemed to vibrate with his deep, rolling laugh, which made me smile against the soft duvet.

  “There was also some shopping involved,” he mused, like he thought that would convince me to leap off the comfortable bed. He didn't know women as well as he thought. Like I'd go try on clothes with my brunch food baby in my belly that already made my comfortable Wranglers snug around the waist.

  “No. Bed.”

  “You're turning down spending my money to lie in bed.”

  The soft material slid against my cheek as I nodded. “With you. Isn't there a game or something sporty on SportsCenter you can watch while I snuggle you and sleep off this buzz?”

  “Now that I can do.” The rustling of clothes drew my attention to where he stood on the opposite side of the bed. Green eyes sparkled when he caught me watching. “I like you watching me with that lusty look.”

  A shiver bolted down my spine at his low, seductive tone.

  “Well, I like watching when it's someone as sexy as you, Sir Fancy Pants.”

  “If you keep looking at me like that, baby, then that nap you hoped for won’t happen. Your choice.”

  Even though I did crave his sexy-as-sin body against mine, the champagne made my eyes heavier with each passing second. After a shake of my head to dislodge all the naughty thoughts he invoked, I rolled to my back and pulled my jeans to my ankles.

  When they hit the floor, I glanced to where he stood and smirked at his scorching stare at my naked lower half. “You're the one who didn't pack my underwear.” On all fours, I crawled up the bed, bare ass in the air facing him. I reached the top of the comforter, readying to pull it back to snuggle under it when a stinging smack whipped across the right cheek.

  Instead of screaming in pain, I buried my face in the mountain of pillows and moaned, keeping my ass in the air, hoping for more.

  “Baby,” he growled.

  “Hmm?”

  “You chose nap, not sex, so get that perfect ass of yours under the covers.”

  “But you're so convincing,” I said with a little wiggle, silently begging him for more. “Again, B.”

  His loud, guttural groan rattled through the room just before a palm smacked the same spot as before. My eyes slammed shut, and an unladylike, garbled moan pushed past my lips into the pillow.

  Beneath me, the bed dipped and the mattress shifted. That time, instead of inflicting delicious pain, his callused hands reverently caressed down each cheek. My ass molded in his hands as he squeezed each side with a pleasure-filled moan of his own.

  My breath caught at the slide of a hand dipping between my thighs.

  “Hell,” he muttered, his lips brushing against the small of my back. “You loved it, didn't you.” To prove his statement, two fingers slid easily inside.

  “Yes,” I pleaded into the pillow. A half yelp, half sigh escaped at the twist and curl of his fingers. “Fuck the nap.”

  At my encouragement, his pace quickened, teasing me to the brink with his two dexterous digits. Soft kisses and not-so-tender nips dotted along each cheek. The pressure built, producing a sheen of sweat that moistened my skin. When I couldn't take any more, he flicked his thumb hard against my swollen clit. On their own, my hips slammed back against his hand and my legs quivered, barely keeping me upright through the force of my release.

  Eyes closed, face still buried in the pillow and ass in the air, a slight pressure against my inside knees caught my attention. Obeying, I slid them along the comforter, spreading my legs wide.

  “Do you have any idea how gorgeous you are?” he asked while stroking a loving hand down my right ass cheek before seizing a handful of plump flesh. “The sounds you make when you come are almost enough to do me in, baby.” The hand not gripping me slid up my back to tangle in my hair, holding my face to the bed. “My turn.”

  Without warning, he slammed in, sinking deep with the first thrust.

  “Fuck me,” he gritted out.

  Inch by inch he withdrew, only to thrust back in just as deep as before. Again and again he pushed, chasing his release. Echoes of our skin slapping together filled the large room. An open-palmed smack against my ass pulled a startled yet desire-filled yell from my lungs.

  “More,” I pleaded, shoving back for emphasis.

  Everything stilled.

  Brenton's heavy, deep pants were the only sound in the room.

  “Brenton,” I begged. I attempted to wiggle to urge him on but was only rewarded with another stinging smack.

  “Say it,” he commanded. “Say what you want.”

  “More. More of you. More of that,” I pleaded.

  “Of what?” he said in an arrogant tone.

  The bastard knew full well what I wanted.

  “Spanking, your hand against my ass, all of it. I need more, B,” I cried into the pillow. “Please.”

  Sweat-slick skin pressed against my back, hot breath brushing across my ear. “We're not perfect, baby, but we're fucking perfect for each other.”

  Both hands dipped to hold my breasts like anchors. He teased an
d pulled at my tight nipples while he pushed from behind faster and deeper.

  “Again, baby,” he grunted.

  “Please, Brenton,” I yelled. Every thought, every sensation focused on him. Each place he touched sparked a fire and added to the building heat between my legs. On the edge, I needed a push to find release. “Again,” I whispered, almost like a prayer.

  At my request, he leaned back, still pumping hard, and smacked each cheek.

  “Holy shit!” I screamed and fell apart beneath him.

  Brenton shouted my name along with a few curses before falling onto my back and pushing us down into the soft bed.

  My hair tickled over my shoulder as it was swept aside, Brenton pressing light kisses along it and up my neck. He sucked my earlobe between his lips, sending a bolt of lingering arousal through my veins.

  “You might be the death of me,” he murmured before kissing back down my neck. “How will I ever focus on anything other than you again?”

  “Don't,” I sighed, eyes still closed, savoring the moment. “I like being your only focus. Don't go back. Then we can do this every day.”

  A soft laugh brushed over my shoulder. “It doesn't work that way with the military. They call that going AWOL.” And just like that, the cherished moment ended, and the reality of our situation washed over me like a bucket of cold water. “But if there were ever a reason to abandon my post and brothers, it'd be you.”

  “So you are going back.”

  Cold air replaced where his hot skin had once been. A hand held my shoulder to roll me until I faced him.

  “We talked about this. You know I am. You're amazing, we're amazing, but I still have to go back. I have a job to do, people depending on me. I'm good at what I do.”

  “Tell me more about it. What you do.”

  “I’m a part of a group called the Night Stalkers. We fly the best of the best our military has to offer into battle or fly into a war zone to pull them out. They need me, and I need them. The order the military life provides, the sense of control flying gives me.”

  “Sounds dangerous.”

  “It is, but I can get our men into areas no one else would dare fly. I take those risks because the reward is so great. I can't give that up.”

  I shifted my stare from his eyes to the soft cream sheets. “I'm not enough to convince you to give it up. That's what you're saying.”

  “That's not what I'm saying and you know it.” He walked to the bathroom, rolling the condom off as he went. Seconds later, he plopped back on the bed, facing the ceiling. For a second he only popped his knuckles before tucking his inked arms behind his head. “I'm saying… hell, I don't even know what I'm saying. I need a second to process it all. Four days ago, you were a figment of my imagination, a distant diluted memory, and now you're here. Plus learning about the baby and what I caused? It's a lot to take in.” He turned his head and locked his bright eyes on mine. “Let me work a few things out before we have this conversation, okay? You've had thirteen years. At least give me a day,” he said with a slight grin.

  He was right. I pushed him to commit when the whole time I knew he was leaving at the end. What did I believe? That amazing sex and conversation would make him do a 180 on his life, make him want to make the ranch his home, giving up the career he'd worked hard for the past thirteen years?

  “What would you say if I asked you to come with me?”

  I took a shaky breath in and let it out slowly to give myself a second to formulate my answer. “I'd say… I'd say let me think about it. Uprooting my life—”

  “Which you don't like.”

  “True,” I mused and snuggled under the blankets, pulling them up to my chin to ward off the blasting AC. “But it's all I know.”

  “Doesn't make it right, or what you want.”

  “You sound like you're trying to talk me into going with you.”

  “Maybe I am.”

  “Are you?”

  “I don't know,” Brenton said with a sigh, like the weight of the conversation sat on his chest, restricting his breathing. “All I know is the thought of you not being close makes me want to punch something. The idea of you going back to a town that turned on you, near a dad who treats you worse than the ranch dog, makes me want to take you with me, willing or not.”

  Okay, that was kind of sweet in a kidnapping kind of way. I smirked at the ceiling before looking to him. “But it's not Texas.”

  “Texas isn't the only state you can live in.”

  The pillow molded in my grip. I flung it across the bed to smack his chest. “Watch your mouth, sir. Texas is the only state. Don't you remember learning that in Texas history?”

  “Right,” he laughed. “Kentucky is still considered the south, you know.”

  The earlier electricity that had pulsed through my body cooled. Exhaustion pulled my lids lower and lower.

  “Beks?”

  “Sleepy,” I somehow muttered before slipping into a deep slumber.

  22

  Brenton

  The rattle of the phone against the wooden side table drew my attention away from the Rangers game I watched while Beks napped. I’d glanced over at least half a dozen times in the past hour, smiling at the naked beauty beside me. Warmth bloomed in my gut each time.

  How in the hell could I leave her?

  If everyday life was like this, coming home to a woman like her, who accepted me no matter what internal battle I fought, maybe leaving the army wouldn’t be such a terrible idea.

  She'd already forgiven me for so much; maybe I'd be pressing my luck thinking she'd accept all sides of me. The soldier side of Brenton Graves, the recovering addict side. Beks only saw the stable side of the man she remembered. The rich civilian. Not the man who woke up at night drenched in sweat from near-death experiences, or woke up angry at the world when the ghosts of the men we lost as I flew them toward medical care haunted my dreams. Or the man who would stare at the bottle of bourbon for hours, fighting the persistent urge to take a sip.

  Would she still want me if she saw all sides of Brenton Graves? The good and the terrible?

  No, she didn't need to know those ugly sides of me.

  Because then she'd see how broken I was. Not the strong, cocky, arrogant-as-hell man she believed.

  What if telling her everything was the final straw? Could I handle the one woman I wanted more than life itself walking away?

  Looking away, I snagged my phone and swiped the screen open.

  Kyle: Bradley doesn't want you involved. Said he wouldn't give me the names of his suppliers.

  Lips pressed into a thin line, I glanced to the still-sleeping Beks. I told her I'd handle it before I left. No way would that dumbass brother of hers stand in the way of protecting her.

  Me: Give me his number.

  Seconds later, Bradley's contact information flicked across the screen.

  Me: Give me their names and information. Now. I won't allow those fuckers to be anywhere near my property.

  Me: Don't give me that shit of you handling it. I saw you yesterday. You can barely fucking walk.

  Me: Take the out I'm giving you.

  Me: You won't like the alternative. From them. Or me.

  Bradley: These fuckers are no joke, rich boy.

  Bradley: I’ll set up the meet, but I'm not giving you their information.

  Me: Fine. Set it up.

  An inning later, the Rangers still down by five runs, my phone buzzed on the bed.

  Bradley: Tonight. 1 a.m. I'll drop you a pin of the meeting location.

  Bradley: Sure as hell hope you know what you're doing.

  Me: You're welcome.

  Bradley: They want cash.

  Me: They'll get cash that I wire them. I'm not a fucking moron.

  Me: And your sister stays out of this. I'll do the meet. You keep her busy.

  Bradley: If you haven't fucking noticed, asshole, she has a mind of her own and is pretty damn smart. She'll figure out what you're doing behind her back an
d rip your balls off.

  Bradley: I'm not kidding either. I've seen her castrate enough animals. She knows how to do it.

  My balls reflexively pulled closer to my body.

  Don't worry, boys. She likes you too much to rip you off.

  I think.

  Me: I'll handle her.

  Bradley: Oh hell, man. You have a death wish.

  Bradley: You better hope she doesn't ever read that shit.

  Bradley: Beka isn't one to be handled.

  Almost on cue, Beks gave a soft, happy groan and stretched out beneath the coves.

  Me: I'll be there tonight. Confirm it.

  I dropped the phone to the floor and shifted across the king-size bed to curl against her warm, naked body. Her honey brown eyes fluttered open, and a small smile spread up her cheeks.

  I sucked in a breath. Bedhead, cheeks flushed, and happy, this woman was a dream. I nuzzled her shoulder and bit the back of her neck. No doubt she felt my rock-hard dick pressing into her thigh, eager for another round.

  A pounding knock at the door caused both our heads to lift and turn toward the sound.

  “Expecting someone?” she asked, still half asleep. “I'm not down with sharing, so you know. None of that ménage shit.”

  Content with ignoring whoever was at the door, I covered her body with mine, nestling my dick between her ass cheeks. “I'm not sharing you, baby. You're mine and mine only. I'll break the fucker who tries to touch you.”

  “So possessive,” she grumbled with a smirk.

  “You love it.”

  “I—” Another impatient knock from the door cut her off. “Dammit, B, just go see who it is, would you?”

  “It's either my dad,” I said into her dark hair, taking a deep sniff of the coconut scent, “or….”

  With her elbow pressed into the bed, she hauled me off her back. “Who?”

  “No one, baby,” I groaned, grabbing her waist to keep her on the bed. “It's no one. Just leave it.”

  At my next tug, she wiggled out of my loose grip with a mischievous smile. “The suspense is killing me,” she joked, then slid my T-shirt over her head. On her tiptoes, she sashayed out of the bedroom with a hint of her perfect ass peeking out beneath the black tee.