The Bequest

by Hope Anika

  Her fingers tugged at his hair. “Kiss me.”

  His mouth was on hers before she’d finished asking, his tongue twining with hers, one hand gliding up her body to cup her jaw. His other hand traced over her thighs, up her belly to her breast, leaving a damp trail. Her scent filled the air. She slid her hands from his hair and pushed his shirt from his shoulders, splaying her palms against the hard, supine heat of him.

  He made a rough sound into her mouth as she touched him, and she plucked at the bar that pierced his nipple while stroking a hand down over the ridged muscle of his abdomen toward the hard press of his cock. He was delicious.

  “No,” he said, tearing his mouth from hers, his breath shuddering out of him.

  “But I want to touch you,” she protested, hunger a deep clamor within. That orgasm had been fan-freaking-tastic…but she wasn’t done. She wanted to trace the tribal tattoo that decorated his arm, lick the odd, round stamp on his belly, taste him the same way he’d tasted her—

  “Next time,” he said and ripped open his jeans.

  Cheyenne stilled and watched as he shed them, revealing strong, corded thighs and the hard, thick line of his cock, which made her pulse echo in a pounding rhythm at her core. Moisture glistened at the tip, beckoning her touch, and she couldn’t help but reach out and swipe it with her thumb.

  So soft.

  The discovery fascinated her, such silken, delicate skin over something so hard, and she moved to sit up, intent on learning more, but he captured her hands in his and said in a tight voice, “Later,” and then he was kissing her again. He released her hands and slid his palms down her arms to her breasts, where he rubbed her nipples in lazy circles. She arched against the hard, heated line of him, and then those rough palms were gliding down her ribs to her hips, sliding over the globes of her bottom to pull her closer, until his cock nudged at her opening and the whole world seemed to pause.

  His head lifted; his gaze met hers.

  “Now?” he asked, his voice a husk of sound.

  “Oh, hell, yes,” she whispered.

  One hand wrapped her hip; the other splayed on her inner thigh and lifted her leg, opening her further. Then he bent over her, flicked his tongue against her nipple and began to push into her.

  If his fingers had been thick, his cock seemed immense. Her body struggled to yield, the pressure a mixture of pleasure and pain so intense her breath locked in her throat. Will suckled her, testing the edge of his teeth against her sensitive flesh, and moisture flooded between them, easing his way.

  “All the way,” he muttered against her. “Let me in.”

  And then he suckled her with strong, hungry pulls, and she moaned, arching beneath him, and he slid into her to the hilt, until he was so deep she could feel his pulse against her womb.

  He shuddered, and the hand at her hip flexed, once, twice.

  “Oh,” she said, clenching around him. “That’s…”

  “Yes.” Will was utterly still, watching her, his gaze hooded, turbulent. “More?”

  Cheyenne grappled for control, her nerve endings twitching and sizzling as though they were live wires. He was so thick, so hard, felt so damn good…

  “Everything,” she whispered.

  His eyes closed, his neck corded, every muscle taut, and he was so beautiful Cheyenne knew she would paint him like this, motionless on the edge of lust and need; hers alone. And then he pulled out and thrust back into her, and the thought imploded.

  “Oh,” she said again, sharper as he began to stroke in and out in a steady, breath-stealing rhythm, and every time he plunged into her, she climbed higher, her muscles tightening more, the pleasure intensifying until she was moaning, her nails scoring the thick muscle of his back, her hips lifting to meet his.

  “Look at me, Cheyenne.” His words were harsh, grated between them, and she obeyed dazedly, unable to think past the pleasure that had burned away everything else. “I want you to see me.”

  His eyes trapped her, glinting like polished jewels, sharp enough to cut. Her arousal climbed higher as their gazes held, as he thrust harder, deeper, the connection even more intimate than the interlock of their bodies, and Cheyenne felt tears burn her throat.

  “So tight,” he whispered. “Hot and wet and perfect. Going to undo me.”

  Harder, deeper, until she was panting beneath him, her body in flames, and all the while, he held her gaze, lust vibrant on his face, his pleasure in her raw and shared. Cheyenne couldn’t look away; higher and higher she climbed until she was shaking, fighting the orgasm that was trying to take her, unwilling to let the experience end.

  “I love you, baby,” he said, his voice low. “Come for me.”

  And then he pinched her clit and flung her into orgasm. Cheyenne came apart beneath him, her body rippling around his, wild cries tearing from her throat, and then he was stiffening against her, flooding her womb with his heat, a sound of such primal release snarling from him that she came a second time, her nails raking him, her body shuddering violently.

  She didn’t know how long she lay beneath him, his head between her breasts, his hands stroking the length of her thighs in long, soothing strokes, his body still buried within her. How long it took to stop shaking, to mute the roar of her blood, to calm the beat of her heart.

  But when she could finally slide her fingers into Will’s hair and tug his head back, she did. His eyes shimmered in the light, and the hands on her were possessive, petting her with a proprietary air she had no wish to fight.

  “I love you, too,” she told him around the sudden, wrenching lump in her throat.

  His gaze narrowed. He reached up to rub his thumb along her bottom lip, spreading the wetness there. Her thighs clenched around him and, deep within, hunger stirred. That quickly, she was ready.

  “Again,” he said.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Rafe was sorry to see Brodie go.

  He liked the Army Ranger. They’d hung out and watched survival shows into the wee hours of the night—even after Cheyenne and Will had come in and gone to bed—and Brodie had promised to take him out and actually—really and truly—teach him how to survive in the wilderness. How to build a fire and a shelter from scratch, how to find water, how to hunt. Rafe couldn’t wait.

  But Brodie had to return to his sister, who’d just had a baby, and it was a long drive down to Estes Park, so he left early, right after Cheyenne stuffed him full of bacon and eggs and banana pecan pancakes. He promised Rafe he would be back in a month, hugged Will and kissed Cheyenne and waved goodbye from the big black Suburban.

  When they went back into the cabin afterward, Rafe made his announcement.

  “I want to dump her,” he said.

  “Dump who?” Cheyenne stood in the circle of Will’s arms, and she was leaning back against him, a half-smile Rafe had never seen curving her mouth. Rafe knew something had happened between them because Will was touching her a lot. And she wasn’t arguing. They were together now. For real.

  “My ma,” he replied. Watching them made him happy. And hopeful.

  But this needed to be done.

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “Isn’t that what people do? Dump the ashes?”

  “Oh,” Cheyenne said, and he could tell she was trying not to smile. “Well, I think most people spread them. Not dump them.”

  “Whatever.” Rafe shrugged. “I want to get rid of them.”

  “You sure?” Will asked. “Once they’re gone, they’re gone.”

  Good riddance, Rafe thought.

  “This is a new start,” he explained. “I want her behind me. I don’t want to see her every day and think about it all.”

  Cheyenne folded her arms across her chest and stared at him.

  “What?” he wanted to know.

  “Will’s right, sweet pea. You might not want them now, but someday—”

  “I don’t want them.” He’d decided. He stared back at Cheyenne mutinously, having already come to the concl
usion that if she didn’t want to help him, he’d do it himself. He wanted the reminder of his ma gone. Like she was gone.

  Turn the key.

  “Okay,” Cheyenne said. “If you’re sure.”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Alrighty then. Where do you want to spread them?”

  He’d thought a lot about that. At first, he’d figured they could just dump her in the driveway, but then he’d think about her every time they drove over her. So it would have to be somewhere else, further away, and maybe if he put her somewhere beautiful, it would help erase all the ugly she’d done.

  Rafe always knew his ma was off, but after what she’d done to him, to Cheyenne—because he knew there was something—what she’d done to Will, to Will’s men, after stealing the cache, after releasing the video…now he truly hated her. He couldn’t forgive her—even if she was sick—and he didn’t want to. It was over. As far as he was concerned, it was time to get rid of her.

  Like she’d gotten rid of him.

  The only thing that made him uneasy about his decision was Cheyenne. Without his ma, he wouldn’t have Cheyenne. Or Will. Or Lucky and Chuck. He wouldn’t have gotten out of the city, seen the Badlands, or found himself in this amazing place. He wouldn’t have met Brodie or gotten to Tase someone. Not that that was a good memory.

  But still. Some good things had come from his ma—even if she hadn’t meant for them to. And Rafe was pretty sure she hadn’t meant for them to. Maybe someday he would be able to sort it all out—maybe someday he would want to—but not today. Today, he was tired. Tired of thinking about it and tired of caring. Today it was time to move on.

  “How about by that creek?” he asked. “Where the moose was?”

  “Nice,” Cheyenne said. “And when do you want to do this?”

  “Now,” he replied, eager for it to be done.

  She watched him for a long, silent moment, and he thought she might make him wait, but then she turned and disappeared into the mud room. Will put his hands on Rafe’s shoulders.

  “You’re sure about this?” he asked.

  Will’s eyes could cut right through a person, but Rafe nodded, certain. “Yeah.”

  “You’re ready to turn the page?”

  “Yeah,” Rafe said, relieved he understood.

  Will nodded. “Then we’re with you.” He looked over at the doorway Cheyenne had disappeared through. “Did she tell you?”

  “Tell me what?”

  “We’re getting hitched.”

  Rafe’s heart jerked in his chest. “Hitched?”

  “Married.”

  Rafe launched himself at Will. That was the thing about Will: Will always caught him. And even though Rafe felt small and breakable in his arms, he knew he was safe. Like he was safe with Cheyenne. They were the only people in his life he’d ever known that about. The only ones he trusted. He thought maybe he could trust Brodie, too, but only time would tell.

  “We’re going to be a family,” Will said, and Rafe reared back to stare at him. “That okay with you?”

  “A family,” Rafe repeated, dazed.

  “All for one and one for all,” Will replied. “Sound good?”

  The sudden, painful swell in Rafe’s throat crushed the words he wanted to speak. So he just nodded and hugged Will again, his arms tight around Will’s neck, his belly churning. He’d fantasized about Cheyenne and Will being together, about them becoming a family, but he hadn’t expected it to happen. Not really.

  “What’s wrong?” Cheyenne asked, standing in the doorway, her arms overflowing with coats.

  Rafe shook his head, struggling to swallow past the lump in his throat, to blink away the tears that burned the backs of his eyes.

  “He approves,” Will said.

  “Approves of what?” She dumped the coats on the couch and moved to lay a hand on Rafe’s back, a frown drawing her brows into a vee. “Sweet pea?”

  It was such a silly thing for her to call him, but Rafe loved her more every time she said it. And he did love her. He hadn’t planned to; part of him didn’t even want to. Nothing good had ever come to him from loving. The only time he’d ever told his ma he loved her, she’d laughed. Laughed and laughed, like he’d told the funniest joke she ever heard…so he never said it again. And neither did she. He really didn’t want to love anyone again. But if he was going to have a family…he had to.

  “Getting hitched,” Will said. He pulled Cheyenne into their hug and kissed her, and Rafe had the feeling that was something he was going to have to get used to. But that was okay. He didn’t really mind. “He’s going to be my best man.”

  Rafe’s heart leapt for a second time. “Really?”

  “Best man?” Cheyenne said.

  “When we get hitched.”

  She stared at Will, color flooding her cheeks.

  “You said yes,” Will reminded her, and Rafe had no doubt he was going to hold her to it. “And we’re doing it right.”

  Her mouth opened, then closed.

  “We’re going to be a family,” Rafe told her, the words tight in his throat.

  She looked at him. “Is that okay with you?”

  No one had ever cared what he thought. That Will had asked for his blessing still seemed like a dream, something he’d just imagined. But now they were both looking at him, trying to make sure he was okay with what was happening…when he’d never had any choice in anything that happened. It was so unreal, he reached down and pinched himself.

  Ouch.

  “Hell, yeah,” he said. “I ain’t never been to a wedding before.”

  “Me either,” Cheyenne said.

  Will smiled. “This is going to be fun.”

  “How about here?” Rafe halted next to the slender ribbon of water that split the small valley he, Cheyenne and Will stood within. Lucky sat down next to him with a big sigh, still clearly exhausted from her adventure the day before. The sun winked atop the water’s surface, diamond bright. “Is this a good spot?”

  Will squeezed Cheyenne’s hand, where it was wrapped securely in his.

  “Sure,” she said softly, her gaze on the wooden urn Rafe carried.

  Will knew she wasn’t sure about the ‘dumping’ of the ashes, but she’d given Rafe the lead, accepting his decision and allowing him to make a small production of hiking out to the stream, the urn held out before him as though it contained the deadliest of viruses.

  “Are you sure about this?” she asked. “Because there’s no going back once they’re gone.”

  Rafe pulled the lid from the urn and moved to dump them.

  “Wait!” Cheyenne said, and he stopped.

  “What?” he asked with a scowl.

  “We should say something,” she said.

  “Like what?”

  A million answers flooded Will’s head, but he said nothing. He understood Rafe’s need to move forward; Will was right there with him. Ready to step beyond the chaos and pain Georgia Humboldt had caused and live. To shed the bad and don the good. The good. Something, he supposed, he had Georgia to thank for.

  Christ, what a crazy, fucked up thing that was.

  “I don’t know,” Cheyenne said and sighed. “It just seems like we should say…something.”

  Rafe stared down at the urn, silent, and somewhere far off, a raven cackled.

  Cheyenne pulled her hand from Will’s, but before she could walk away, he caught her nape and pressed a hard kiss against her lips. She favored him with a small smile before turning to join Rafe at the edge of the stream.

  Will watched them, content. He was still hyperaware of their surroundings, still vigilant against Malik—because that situation was fluid, nothing had been settled—and still cognizant that Cheyenne and Rafe were his to care for. He was okay with that. Even the demise of his military career seemed somehow muted, as though he’d turned off that road by choice. As though what he’d envisioned as being everything always was now just what had once been…and he didn’t feel lost. He felt found. Ready for wha
tever may come.

  Are you sure? Cheyenne had asked him in the hushed aftermath of their explosive union. To which Will had given her an unequivocal answer, one that would leave her with no doubts. He knew the word “wife” scared the hell out of her, that her world had been as upended as his. That she’d never imagined herself on this path…but they were here now. Together. And this is where they would stay.

  A family.

  Will’s first love had always been his country; getting married, having babies, cutting a slice of that American pie…that had been for others. His only focus had been his next mission, getting his men in and out safely, accomplishing their goal. Staying alive. There’d been no life outside of that.

  But now…it was different. He was different. That Cheyenne should be tied to him wasn’t even a question in his mind. That he would accept Rafe as his own went without saying. That they would be a family was just…fact. One he didn’t question.

  He knew it wouldn’t be easy. Each of them was self-sufficient. Alone. Even Rafe was used to making his own way. Bending to meet in the middle would be work for all of them. Compromise, sacrifice, communication…they would all learn. They would have to. Because after last night, there was no letting go. No walking away.

  Will was all in.

  “I don’t know what you expect me to say,” Rafe muttered.

  He was still scowling, and Will knew he just wanted to dump his mother’s ashes and be done. He wasn’t saying ‘good-bye’ so much as ‘get lost.’ He had no desire to linger.

  But Cheyenne lifted the lid on the urn, grabbed a handful of ash and said, “We commit this body to the ground, earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust.” Then she opened her hand and let the ash flutter down to the water.

  “Amen,” Rafe added and turned the urn over, dumping the rest of the ashes into the water with a loud plop.

  Cheyenne watched him with a frown. Will moved toward them, until he was close enough to put a hand on Rafe’s shoulder and wrap an arm around Cheyenne. She looked up at him, worry dark in her gaze, but Will only shook his head faintly and kissed her.