“It’s been a year,” she grumbled.
“Put it in perspective. You carried your daughter for half of a year. You suffered a major loss.”
Mal leaned back to look up into his face. “I thought you were a vet, not a therapist.”
He chuckled softly, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. “I have long conversations with some of my patients. Especially when my arm is lost up to my shoulder in a heifer’s ass.”
Mal reached up to stroke the short, dark hair above his forehead. He wore it so much longer when they were young. Back then she could actually brush it with her fingers when they laid quietly in the afterglow of one of their very romantic, fuck-like-a-couple-of-teenage-rabbits sessions.
“What are you smiling about?” His voice lowered and flowed like warm honey, causing a shiver to run up her spine. She felt so safe in his arms. Safe and wanted.
She studied him. “Nothing… Everything… You.”
“I love you, Mal. You know that, right?”
“Bray… I haven’t even been home for a week yet.”
He swept the hair back away from her face. “Doesn’t matter. That doesn’t change the way I feel.”
She had loved him when she was eighteen. At least as much as a couple of young foolish eighteen-year-olds could love. But time and distance put a gap between them. She wanted to tell him she loved him too, but she also didn’t want to make a mistake. Not again. She couldn’t rush this between them.
“You don’t have to say anything, Mal. I get it. I’m rushing things. I have this pressing need to want to make up for lost time.”
He brushed a thumb along her bottom lip and then leaned in to kiss her. His lips were soft and warm, but he definitely took charge of the kiss. His tongue swept along her lips and into her mouth, entangling, sparring, swirling with hers. Her eyelids fluttered closed and she let herself go.
She needed to get the past out of her mind and be here. Right here. In this moment. In his arms.
He cupped her cheek, pulling away enough to whisper against her lips, “Just let me love you.”
Her thighs clenched and her pussy throbbed. Grabbing at his shirt, she twisted her fingers into the fabric, pulling him closer. “Yes. Please.” Her lips collided with his as she tore at his shirt, the buttons springing like popcorn all over the couch. She braced her hands against his muscular chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall, and moved to straddle him.
He was already hard, no surprise, when she ground down against his lap. He dug his hands into her hair, gripping it hard, yanking her head back, nuzzling her neck, the stroking his tongue down her throat.
“Your shirt is in the way,” he complained against her skin when he couldn’t continue his path to her cleavage.
Grabbing the bottom of the blouse she wore, she didn’t even bother to unbutton it, instead, she peeled it off and over her head, giving him a smile. “Better?”
“Not yet.” He unhooked her bra, letting it fall forward as her breasts were freed. He leaned back to study them before cupping each one and kissing the nipples gently. She worked the bra off her arms and threw it to the side. Her nipples were painfully tight and she wanted more than a sweet kiss.
When his mouth latched on one nipple and his fingers captured the other one, she groaned and ground down against him once more. His mouth worked her flesh, his tongue swirling the edge of her areola, his teeth nipping the tip. He sucked hard as he twisted her other nipple between his fingers.
“That’s it, Cow-Boy, that’s it,” she whispered, breathlessly. “You’re getting me so wet.”
He made a noise against her flesh and switched nipples, sucking one hard while playing with the other. She arched her spine, shoving her breasts closer, wanting him not to stop, but then again, she also wanted him to stop so he could be deep inside of her.
“Can you feel how much I want you?” he asked.
Her answer was another circling of her pelvis over his erection. Her panties were soaked and she wouldn’t be surprised if the crotch of her pants was also. Lightning shot through her with each stroke of his tongue, pull of his mouth, pluck of his fingers. She began to rock against him, building momentum, the fabric of her panties pressing against her sensitive folds. She ground her clit harder, faster against him. He grabbed her breasts firmly with his hands and bit into the soft flesh.
The climax surged through her, making her gasp, curling her toes. She closed her eyes and threw her head back as she rode out the waves.
But it wasn’t enough. Her clit ached for more. She needed more.
She slipped from his lap and tore at the fasteners on her pants. “Pants off, Cow-Boy.”
Excitement and desire filled his eyes, which was way better than their normal despair. He yanked his hips off the couch, peeled off his black jeans, his cowboy boots, everything, and settled back on the couch, his cock erect, the head shiny with precum.
Mal let her gaze sweep his body, and her pussy clenched hard, desperate for him to fill her. “Condom, Cow-Boy.”
He shook his head. “No.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “Yes. You must.”
Last thing she needed was to get pregnant. Last thing she wanted to risk was another loss of a piece of her. It would be the end. She would be shattered forever.
“Mal…”
“No, Bray. Condom or this won’t happen.”
With disappointment on his face, he grabbed his wallet from his jeans and dug out a condom. He ripped it open with his teeth and sheathed himself. When he was through, he leaned back against the couch and held a hand out to Mal. “Cow-Boy up, Princess.”
She smiled at him in relief, and whispered, “Thank you,” as she straddled his broad thighs and perched above him. His cock flexed, bumping against her swollen, slick folds.
She wrapped her fingers around the back of his head and stared directly into his eyes as she lowered herself, taking him slowly, feeling him stretch her inside. A satisfied sigh escaped her when she encased him completely.
She realized at that moment Bray helped fill the piece of her heart that had been torn away after losing Lisabeth. She never thought it could be possible. But it was. It was happening, even though it scared her a little bit.
She had to remind herself this was Bray and he loved her, he cared for her, and he wanted her no matter what.
She braced her hands on his shoulders and lifted her hips enough to bring the crown of his cock just to the entrance of her pussy.
“Down?” she asked.
Bray’s eyelids were hooded, his lips slightly parted. “Oh God, yes, baby. Go down on me.”
Mal closed her eyes as she lowered herself once again with excruciating slowness, savoring the way his cock filled her. Like it was part of her. It belonged.
She rode him leisurely, riding his complete length, the climax building slowly from her core. Until finally, she was there at the edge. Just at the point of no return. She leaned her forehead against his and placed her lips only a breath from his, their harsh breathing mingling. She inhaled him, he inhaled her.
“You ready to come with me, Cow-Boy?”
He gritted his teeth but said nothing. His expression, his eyes told her yes.
She dropped all her weight on him and he grunted, his hands finding her hips, his fingers digging into the flesh.
Then she rode him like a bucking bronco—hard and fast, hanging on tight.
He held onto her so firmly, it was going to leave bruises. But she didn’t care. She rode him to the top of the peak until she wailed, “I’m going to come, Cow-Boy.”
She smashed her lips against his as the waves washed over her, her muscles clenching, twitching. His hips shot off the couch and his cock pulsated within her as he released.
Their hearts pounded, their breathing ragged, as they gave each other a small satisfied smile.
She collapsed against him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, squeezing him tight. She leaned her head on his shoulder as he stood up with her in his arms
and carried her upstairs.
Chapter 8
Guilt ate at Bray. He didn’t want to leave Mal before she awoke. Especially after they spent half the night with him deep inside her, making her come. He simply couldn’t get enough of her. The need to hold onto her, to make sure she was real, to make sure she didn’t just disappear again, overwhelmed him.
Because this time he wouldn’t let go. He would never let her go again.
His phone vibrated on the nightstand at around four a.m., indicating he received a text. At that time of the morning, it could only mean one thing…an emergency. Putting out fires seemed to be the story of his life.
However, he didn’t want to leave her for this particular one, but it was either pay the devil now or later, so he reluctantly left her a note on the pillow, not wanting to wake her. She was clearly exhausted from their raucous nocturnal activities. A few bites on his back and chest proved how rough the night actually became.
His smile at the memory quickly faded as he pulled up in front of his former home. The house was lit up inside and he steeled himself to deal with the so-called “emergency.” Or EATK, Emergency According To Kait.
As he approached the front stoop, the door swung open and his ex-wife appeared as a silhouette in the doorway. He squinted and the closer he came the figure became clearer. He sighed loudly and frowned. “Really? That’s how you answer the damn door?”
Kait shrugged and ran a finger under the thin shoulder strap of the negligee she wore. More like modeled, with one knee bent and her chest pushed out. After a dramatic pause, she stepped back to let him through and shut the door behind him.
“Where’s Nate?” he asked.
“Sleeping.”
Of course he was, like any normal teenage boy. “Why are you up so early? It couldn’t be because you regularly check the hot water heater during the night.”
“I heard a noise and got up to investigate.”
Bray snorted. Right. And pigs flew. “So, the basement is flooded?”
“Like a swamp.”
Bray threw his Stetson on the hook by the door as if second nature. Well, actually, it used to be. He raked a hand through his hair in frustration. “I’ll go take a look. You go on back up to bed.” He certainly didn’t need her breathing down his neck.
Instead of taking his suggestion, she trailed a hand down his arm. “I’m so glad you’re here. I hope I didn’t interrupt anything important.”
Bray narrowed his eyes at her smug words. Bray pictured Mal sleeping, cuddled in her bed. If it was up to him he’d still be molded around her soft body. Did Kait know he had stayed over there?
“Nope. Just my sleep. And who needs that nowadays?” Instead, he stood here, in the house he paid for, looking at his ex-wife in a practically see-through teddy because she didn’t want to call a plumber.
Fuck his life.
“I’ll go down with you. I can hold the flashlight if you need it.”
Her being helpful disturbed him. More suspicion prickled at the back of his neck. “Can you at least put on a robe first?”
Kait laughed huskily, twirling a strand of her shoulder-length hair. Which, on second thought, looked extremely in order at the ass-crack of dawn. Who wakes up and has their hair done and makeup on?
“Why? It’s nothing you haven’t seen before,” she said.
He certainly appreciated the reminder. With a shake of his head, he went to the basement door, flipping the light switch at the top of the stairs. Kait was right on his heels as he headed down.
He almost stumbled down the last few steps when Kait played with the back of his hair.
“You need a trim.”
He grabbed the rail to catch his fall and stopped short. Inspecting the concrete floor, he realized the basement wasn’t flooded. Not even close. But definite evidence of a leak pooled around the water heater.
“This couldn’t have waited until a normal hour?”
“I was afraid it could explode. That’s what happened to Josh and Linda’s water heater. It exploded like a bomb.”
Bray rolled his eyes, making sure she didn’t see it, before heading to the corner of the basement where the water heater sat raised on concrete blocks. He blindly held out his hand behind him. “Flashlight.”
“I can hold it for you, baby,” she purred. Bray’s spine stiffened. Sweet baby Jesus, the woman actually purred.
He ignored her. Wiggling his hand at her, he glanced over his shoulder. “Flashlight, Kait, if you want me to see what the problem is. Otherwise, I’m leaving and you can pay a plumber.”
With a pout, she slapped the flashlight onto his palm and crossed her arms under her breasts, pushing the pale mounds almost out of the lacy low-cut neckline. Hell, that was no neckline. More like scraps of lace trying to hold up the weight of the world. Bray gritted his teeth and turned away, crouching down to run the beam of light around the bottom seam of the tank. He couldn’t see where the leak came from. He ran his hand around the edge. Dry. His anger began to bubble up when he saw the water dripping out of the drain valve. He turned the knob to tighten it, cutting off the so-called emergency “leak.”
“What the fuck, Kait! The drain valve was open.” He stood up with a groan. Last night must have taken a toll on him too.
“What does that mean?” she asked, trying her damnedest to look innocent.
“That means someone opened the valve that drains the tank.”
“Oh no! Could it have been a mouse? Does the house have mice?” She danced around nervously like she was going to see a valve-opening mouse at any second.
Bray closed his eyes while he took a deep breath. He damn well knew she’d planned all this. It was nothing but a big game to her. Kait normally cared less about Bray, but now that Mal returned to town, suddenly she decided to play tricks.
He handed her the flashlight and beat feet it back up the steps. She rushed after him.
“So, everything is okay? It doesn’t need replacing?”
Bray snorted, stopped his tracks, and turned to confront her. “You think I don’t know you opened the valve just to get me over here?” Bray closed his eyes again, this time to count to ten. He gave up at four, opening his eyes to glare at her.
“C’mon, Baby, don’t be like that,” she pleaded. “I miss the hot sex we used to have.”
“Only the sex, right? Not me?” he asked, needing her to clarify, to prove his point.
She reached for him, causing him to back up a step to avoid her clutches. “Of course, I miss you too. You’re the father of my child!”
“Sometimes I think you forget that, Kait. You only remember it when it’s convenient for you.”
She clicked her tongue. “Nonsense.”
Bray spun and strode to the door. He stopped with his hand on the knob, glancing back over his shoulder at the woman he was once married to, the mother of his only child. A sickening reminder of what a failure he had been.
“You don’t want me, Kait. You just don’t want Mal to have me. You always had to win, didn’t you? My life isn’t a game. Our son’s life isn’t a game. And don’t think I’m blowing smoke when I say I’m filing for custody. Because I am. You are seriously fucked in the head.” He turned back, opening the door.
“He’s not yours.”
Bray froze halfway over the threshold. He turned once again to face her. “What?”
“He’s not yours. Nate isn’t yours.”
Disappointment and sadness came over him and he felt defeated for a moment that she would stoop so low. “Kait, I know he’s mine.”
“You don’t know that. How could you possibly be sure?”
He responded softly, “I did a DNA test after he was born.”
Her eyes widened and she raised a hand to cover her mouth. “Why the hell did you do that?”
“Because I didn’t trust you, Kait. I’ve never trusted you. I was just a pawn in your sick competition with Mal.”
He walked out onto the porch and sucked in a deep breath of t
he early morning air. The sun was starting to rise, giving the sky a rosy hue. But he couldn’t appreciate the beauty of it at the moment. “I’ll be talking to my lawyer.”
“You can’t even afford a lawyer, Braydon. You know why? Because you’re a fucking failure. A damn loser. You’re struggling to keep your business afloat and yourself alive.”
Bray simply shook his head, jogged down the steps, and back to his vehicle.
He drove away, not sparing a glance into the rearview mirror.
* * *
The loud, deep lows of the heifers being milked were music to Mal’s ears. The cows were happy to have the heavy burden in their udders relieved. Plus, they enjoyed munching on fresh hay while they stood in line as the mechanical milkers did their magic.
Milk. It did a body…
Mal wiped the dirt, probably more likely shit, off her hands onto her old, filthy overalls. Between the barn and all of the sex last night, she needed a shower. She stunk to high heaven, but it, apparently, would have to wait. Someone was coming up the driveway.
And it wasn’t Bray.
She brushed a stray hair out of her eye with her pinky, hoping it was her cleanest digit.
What the fuck.
Kaitlyn’s mint green Ford Escape stopped in the path between Mal and the house. The Wicked Witch of the Midwest got off her broom and, with hands planted on her hips, faced Mal.
Why in the hell did the woman wear an overcoat? Especially since it was late spring and way too hot for that.
Whatever. The bitch seemed demented.
“What do you want, Kait?” Not that Mal really cared. But apparently, she came over for a reason.
“I’m looking for Braydon.”
Of course she was. “He’s not here.”
“Will he be later?”
Mal shrugged one shoulder. “No clue. Again, what do you want, Kait?”
Kait smiled, lifted a wait-a-minute finger, and stumbled in high heels to the passenger side of her SUV.
Mal glanced at her watch. Eight a.m. Why the hell did this woman wear heels with her overcoat? Mal watched with disinterest as Kait fumbled around on the other side of the vehicle and when she came back around her overcoat partially gaped open. It gaped just enough for Mal to see Kait wore some sort of lacy negligee underneath her coat. Mal frowned. The woman must be on drugs. Had she totally lost it?
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