by Lex Martin
“And what?” I lick my lips.
“Did it turn you on?”
A smile creeps on my mouth. “Yeah. A lot.” I thrust against him. “You were big and hard. Your tattoos were so beautiful under the water. And the way your hand moved over your body…” I can’t say any more.
His nostrils flare. “Did it make you wet?” he whispers.
He still has my chin in his big hand, so I can’t look away. “Yes.”
“Are you wet now?”
I turn my head so his fingers travel over my lips. They dip into my mouth, and I suck one deeper, enjoying the way his jaw tightens, like he’s wrestling with his control. When he slides out, I ask, “Why don’t you find out?”
His hand snakes its way between our bodies, and he slides my thong over and rubs my wetness up and down my swollen skin.
“Fuck, yes, you’re wet.”
“Brady,” I gasp as he strokes that spot.
“Let go. Let me make you feel good.”
My head falls to his shoulder where I breathe him in. Already I’m so close. I want to let go. But I want him to come with me.
I reach down to tug down his track pants, and he springs out. I pull my undies over more and trap him between our bodies to slide across his hot length. Sitting up, I grind against him slowly, the throbbing in my clit grows. He watches our connection with a fevered look before he groans. That deep, guttural sound urges me on. I thrust faster because having his hard cock rub against my sensitive skin is too much, and I can’t wait.
“I’m gonna come,” I pant.
He grips my hips, holding me in place as he flexes and moves against me, beneath me, stroking me in all the right spots.
I look down. A pale moonlight illuminates enough for me to see the erotic act, and the sight of us fitting together sends me over the edge. I tighten and pulse, collapsing on him when I can’t hold myself up any longer. “Oh, God.”
He threads his fingers through my hair. “I love watching you fall apart.”
Those strong arms wrap around me, and he kisses my forehead and relaxes back into the bed.
After a moment, I crack my eyes open. “Honey, what about you?”
A sigh. “Condom’s in the other room.” He chuckles. “See, told you I wasn’t coming for a booty call.”
Threading my fingers through his thick, black hair, I whisper, “You can either go get one… or I can take care of you another way.”
I slide down him and take his hard length in my hand. When I lick his skin, I taste him. I taste me. I feel like I should be embarrassed to be doing this, to be tasting us like this, but I’m not.
His head falls back as I hollow my cheeks and take him in my mouth. He groans. “Goddamn, that’s good.”
I want to smile but I can’t because my mouth is full. Instead, I pump and stroke and suck until he grunts out a warning. I let him slide out of my mouth and lean back slightly. Because I’ve been taking mental snapshots all night, and I want him to take one now too.
He’s watching me, jaw tight as he tenses and spills out across my breasts.
“Oh, fuck,” he grunts, still throbbing in my slick hands as I repeat the motions, just slower. “That was so goddamn hot.”
He pulls me to him, and even though I’m damp and we’re sticky, I love that he wants to hold me. He whispers how beautiful I am and how much he loves hanging out with me.
I commit those words to memory. My mental scrapbook fills with his warm gaze and husky laugh. With his tender touches and whispered words.
When we stumble into the shower, I want to tell him I’ve changed my mind about our arrangement. I want to tell him I want more. That I want us to be together. That I want him to stay.
But I don’t because I promised.
No expectations. No demands.
And I’ll keep that promise.
Even if it ends up breaking my heart.
36
Brady
I can’t sleep, not with everything I need to do in the next few days, so I stroke Katherine’s back and listen to her breathe while I mentally go through my to-do list. Help Jose with an estimate. Rewire the chicken coop. Reattach the tire swing.
I’m starting with the fastest cosmetic changes I can make, hoping I won’t have to do anything major like paint the damn house. Although, really, I should. If this were my house, I’d do that this spring. And it could use some sanding and priming.
Kat said a few neighbors were coming by to adopt the kittens in a few weeks, and I didn’t miss how bummed she looked. That girl loves those kittens. I feel bad getting rid of them, but they’re the most easily adopted animals we have. Not sure what I’m going to do with that mammoth-sized “baby” raccoon, but one problem at a time.
I’m hoping I can talk to the neighbors about adopting some of our animals when we host that farmers’ event in two weeks. Shit. If getting rid of some kittens upsets Katherine, I can only imagine how she’ll look when I sell the chickens.
My hand threads through her hair. It’s silky soft. I breathe in her scent, wishing I could wake up to this in Boston.
Around midnight, her eyes flutter open. She leans up to kiss me, and we fuck like it’s our last day on the planet. At least she had the foresight to grab the condoms last night after our shower where we enjoyed another round of orgasms.
I can’t get over how I actually like cramming into a twin bed with her. I’ve become notoriously anti-snuggle over the years. An old girlfriend may have broken up with me over this issue, but whatever. A man likes what a man likes, and even though I enjoy hugging women, I could never stand to have them all up in my space at night. Not that I ever treated them disrespectfully, but I don’t think it’s weird that once we were done with whatever bedtime activities we had, I appreciated sleeping on my side of the bed.
For some reason, Kat’s different.
Her head rests on my shoulder, her soft curves pressed to me, and her hair is everywhere—on my chest and shoulder, hell, a little is in my mouth—and I love it.
Not gonna lie. The sex is phenomenal. It might have something to do with how buttoned-up she seems, with her prim little glasses and polite Southern attitude.
But get Katherine naked, and there’s a dirty girl lurking with dirty moves, a dirty mouth and a sinfully hot body.
I kiss her forehead and relish how her arm tightens around me. My filthy girl.
If I were a good guy, I wouldn’t have given in. Or at least not more than once to scratch the itch, but I can’t be around her twenty-four seven and not want this. And if she’s willing to be together while I’m living here, I can’t bring myself to walk away. Yeah, I guess that makes me a selfish prick.
This shit is on my mind the rest of the night until the beautiful girl lifts her sleepy head and smiles at me.
“Can’t sleep?” she asks, her voice raspy and low and sexy as hell.
“Too much on my mind.” I can’t see the clock from here, but I’m guessing it’s early morning.
As if she’s just noticing that she’s half sleeping on me, she smiles shyly and starts to peel herself off me. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to use you as a body pillow.”
I tuck a strand of her wild hair behind her ear. “It’s okay. Kinda liked it.”
Izzy starts chatting on the monitor, and Kat mutters something in Spanish and ducks down, yanking the covers over her head. I laugh and pull her up over me. She whispers, “If we’re quiet, she might go back to sleep.”
She nuzzles against my neck in a full-body hug, and I trail my fingers up and down her smooth back.
“Not likely. I appreciate your optimism, though. But I’ll get Izzy. I kept you up late last night. You can go back to sleep.”
“Mmm. Who says chivalry is dead?” she murmurs against my lips before she collapses back on top of me. I laugh and stroke her back.
In the low morning light beginning to filter through the window, I see a row of blue vials lining her small bureau.
“What are those?”
“Is that why you always smell so good?” I brush my nose against the slender column of her neck and inhale. “I swear, I smell your perfume, and I get hard.”
She laughs, edging away because I know she’s ticklish there. “You like this scent?”
“Baby, it smells so good, I’d gobble you up if I could.”
The smile on her face—Jesus, it’s stunning.
“It’s a new scent I came up with—a little lavender, a few drops of mandarin, and a hint of sandalwood.”
She holds her wrist to my nose, and I breathe her in. “Delicious. I always notice it in the shower.”
“I made a bath gel. That’s probably what you’re smelling.”
I kiss her cheek. “You have too many talents for your own good.” Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, I groan at the day ahead. Kat rubs my back, and I turn back to look at her. The sheets have bunched at her hips, and her hair is wild around her shoulders and her beautiful round breasts.
Leaning down, I press another kiss to her lips. “I can’t look at you right now if I need to go get Izzy. I’ll make us some coffee and feed the kittens before they scale the back door.”
“Sounds good. I’ll help in a sec.”
“It’s okay. I got it. Go back to sleep.”
She sighs contently and nods.
I reach for my track pants and a t-shirt. I feel her eyes on me as I dress. “Stop looking at me like that.” I’m two seconds away from ignoring everything but my angry erection. I turn so she can see how she’s affecting me.
She chuckles. “Just enjoying the show.”
The two white puffs of fluff bounce back and forth like they’re excited to see us. Admittedly, Stella and Stanley, our pygmy goats, are cute.
Pet goats.
I shake my head as I run my hand through my hair. Seriously, what the hell am I going to do with two pet goats?
I’ve been ignoring this issue for the last few weeks, but my realtor is right. If I want to sell this farm, I need to get serious about prepping it for new owners, who probably don’t need pet goats. It’s not like you can even milk these two.
Gross. The thought of drinking goat milk makes me gag a little.
I have half a mind to put an ad in the newspaper to get rid of them. But then Katherine motions toward Izzy, who has her arm wrapped around Stanley’s neck and is whispering, “Moochie smoochie.”
I can’t help but laugh. Isabella is puckering her lips and trying to get the animal to face her. “No, baby. We don’t kiss the goats.”
Izzy frowns at me before making another grab for Stanley. “Moochie smoochies!”
Swooping down until I’m nose to nose with her, I shake my head. “Those are just for me and Kat, okay?” I point to my cheek. “Lay one on me, cutie.”
She giggles and plants a wet kiss on my cheek. I lift her up and hoist her onto my shoulders where she squeals and wraps her arms around my head like an octopus.
Kat laughs as I peel a little finger out of my eye socket.
“Don’t encourage her eye-poking skills.”
She laughs harder.
Squinting through a maze of pointy fingers that have reappeared in my face, I have to ask the obvious. “Seriously, babe, why do we have goats?”
“Because they’re cute.”
“I’m serious.”
“I am being serious.” She sighs and leans down to pet Stella, who makes these little sounds of contentment as she nuzzles against Katherine’s leg. “These two were abandoned on this old farm just outside of Austin. When Mel heard, she got down there as fast as she could. She adopted these little guys because no one else wanted them.”
Well, fuck.
I kinda hate myself for wanting to leave the animals on someone’s porch.
Blowing out a breath, I put Izzy down. “Now I feel like a jerk.”
She laughs at me. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. Not everyone shares Mel’s affinity for saving the lost.”
Her voice conveys a reverence that I feel all the way down to my bones.
I think back to that conversation we had when I first arrived, when she told me Mel took in strays and that's why Katherine has been here since May.
It's on the tip of my tongue to ask why she’s hiding out on a farm.
I’ve almost asked her a million times what really brought her here. I get that she and Melissa were great friends, and I know she was getting over a breakup, but she’s never told me the details of why she left her job in Austin. When it came up the other night, she mumbled that she worked for a politician. That sure as hell got my attention, but she quickly changed the subject.
I didn’t pry, even though I wanted to. Maybe it was the expression on her face that stopped me because I got the impression she has a lot of ghosts wrapped up behind door number one. So I didn’t push. God knows the shit going on here has been tough enough. I don’t need to cross any more boundaries with her. Not if I want to keep things casual.
Nothing about this is casual.
Warring emotions rage in my chest as I watch her baby-talk to Stella and Stanley, who bounce around, excited by her attention.
She motions toward them. “Adopting these two is what gave me the idea for the farmers’ event. I thought we could do a petting zoo, and use it to promote our products. Business around here dies in the winter, but since the temperature is often so mild, it seemed silly that no one hosts any events to maintain interest in the local farming.”
“That was your idea?”
“Yeah. Why? Do you hate it?”
“Not at all. I think it’s a great idea. I just wish prepping for it wasn’t such a time suck.” I still have to finish making that pen for the animals.
She bites that bottom lip. “Sorry. I thought I was helping.”
Lifting my hand to her chin, I tilt her face up. “Hey, I didn’t mean anything by that. In fact, getting people to see our farm might kind of serve as an open house. If people like what they see, then maybe someone will want to buy it.”
A flash of emotion crosses her face, but just like that, it’s gone.
“Right.” She pulls away, and immediately, I know I’ve said the wrong thing. But then she gives me an understanding smile, almost like she’s trying to make me feel better. She clears her throat. “I, uh, finished the new labels for Mel’s bath products. Would you like to see them?”
I reach over and pull her to me, needing that connection. “Definitely,” I mumble as I kiss her forehead.
Once we’re in the house, I put Izzy in her walker as Kat lays out several glossy prints on her small desk.
“Kat, these are great.” I pick them up one by one to study. I run my fingers over the logo. The words Lovelace Lavender wrap around the image of a small farm house. It’s rustic but romantic. She has labels for different lotions and perfumes, each sporting the same beautiful design. “You did this?”
“Yup.”
“What did this stuff look like before?”
Her lips twist as she looks around her room. She reaches for a little white bottle with a handwritten label.
I stare at her, completely confused how this talented girl is working for me on a farm. “Katherine.” Her back straightens, and she looks at me questioningly. “Did you come up with the name too? Lovelace Lavender?”
She nods slowly, looking confused. “It’s the name of the farm.”
I laugh. “The name of the farm is Lovelace Farm.”
“So?”
“So you took the name of the farm and rebranded the products.”
She still looks confused. “Okay?”
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br /> “You took handwritten labels, developed a branding identity, designed the logo, and basically came up with a commercially viable product line.”
She shrugs. “I guess.”
Why does she not appreciate how much she’s done here? “Can I ask how much Mel paid you for this?”
Her eyebrows knot. “Nothing. I did it for fun. I wanted to help her keep the farm from going bankrupt.”
My MFA taught me one thing. Design—good design—isn’t cheap. And I have no idea how to compensate this girl for her efforts.
I rub my chin as I consider how I can show her my gratitude. “What else do we need to do for the farmers’ event?”
Her eyes brighten. “I have to finish packaging the soaps and lotions. And we need to finish the animal pen. Mr. Mac is bringing over some tables so the different farms can set up their products.”
I nod and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear before I lean down to bite her earlobe. She shivers when I whisper in her ear, “You’re so talented.”
Her slender arms wrap around me before she nestles her body to mine and sighs against my chest. And an ache in the deepest part of me makes me wish I didn’t have to let her go.
37
Katherine
The diner is full, my orders are up, but all I can focus on is that ruggedly beautiful man in my booth who’s snuggling a baby to his chest.
And I’m not the only one staring. My boss Carol stands next to me fanning herself. “Honey,” she whispers, “if I were twenty years younger…”
“What about George?” I laugh.
“Eh.” She waves her hand. “Technicalities.”
All of the waitresses stop by the table to hold Izzy, but I know Brady is part of the lure. He’s almost too handsome to escape the attention.
When I swing by with a fresh cup of coffee, that dimple peeks out, and he gives me one of those dangerous smiles that makes my heart race.
The word that comes to mind is lovesick. Like, if I could forego food and just wrap myself in Brady Shepherd, I totally would.