by T. S. Joyce
She pushed up and softly kissed his lips. Train Wreck’s touch matched that gentle kiss. His fingertips drifted down her neck to her collar bones, pushed her jacket off her shoulders, and she smiled against his lips as it hit the floor behind her. Amber linked her arms around his shoulders, and he pulled the backs of her knees until her legs were wrapped around his waist. She could feel the huge bulge of his hard dick through their layers of clothes, and her body reacted. She warmed instantly in his arms and rolled her hips against him just to test him. A soft moan escaped his throat before he laid her on the bed. His lips flowed against hers as he kissed her harder. He angled his face and kissed her more. Slid his fingers between hers and shoved her hands above her head as he sucked on the side of her neck, and now it was her that was moaning.
God, her skin was so sensitive to his touch.
He shoved her legs farther apart and ground against her. She could come just like this. With all their clothes on. That’s how good it felt being pressed against him this tightly.
She rolled her hips with him, and his grasp on her hands tightened before he released her and sat up on his knees, peeled off his shirt. Good Lord almighty, he was so chiseled. This wasn’t the first time she’d seen him without his shirt on, but she was pretty sure she would never stop being surprised at his physique. Defined pecs, and a six-pack she could wash her clothes on. Every curve of his fit body was perfect, like it belonged in some magazine, but that physique had come at a cost. There was a big scar down his shoulder and another on his left hip. She traced that one with her fingertip. “I’ve seen these in some of your social media pictures,” she murmured. “I always wondered what they were from.”
“The bucking career is tough on the body.” His voice was deep and vibrated through the entire room with power.
“Surgeries?”
Wreck nodded.
Amber sat up, still straddled by him, and pulled her own shirt over her head. Okay, this was the least attractive position. Sitting up like this squished her rolls out of the top of her jeans and, self-consciously, she laid back down.
“Fuck, woman,” Wreck murmured, eyes drinking in her curves. “Just when I think you can’t get any more perfect.”
“Really?”
He nodded slow, eyes caught up on her black lace bra and the cleavage it created. “I say it how it is. I won’t blow smoke, Amber. I’ll tell you when I like something, and I’ll always mean it. You’re a ten.”
How could she be self-conscious now? It wasn’t possible. Not with that hungry glint in his eye and his erection pressing hard against the seam of his jeans. He liked her just as she was, and there was something so freeing about that.
Emboldened, she sat up again and reached for him. Wreck’s lips crashed onto hers. His hand went to the back of her curls, and he gripped her right at the nape of the neck. Soooo sexy. Dominant man oozing confidence in the bedroom. She could just lose her mind here. Let him guide them. She could give him her body, and he would take good care of it. He reached around her back and, with a snap, he undid her bra, yanked it off the front of her, and tossed it to the ground.
His hand found her breast immediately, and now the moan was back in his throat, only it was grittier than before. His massaging felt so good, she melted. Just went boneless. He laid her back onto the mattress and unsnapped her jeans, peeled them down her thighs right along with her panties and tossed those to the ground, too. The sound of his zipper filled the room, and she bit her lip as she dragged her gaze down his torso, flexing as he pushed his pants down. Train Wreck’s body was a work of art. And not just the tattoos on his chest and shoulders. Every curve of muscle was perfect. She dragged her nail down his shoulder, and he trembled under her touch. When he opened his eyes, they were nearly pitch black.
“Yummy shifter,” she whispered. “I like you.”
“Mmmmm,” he rumbled. “Say that again.”
“Say what?” she asked innocently.
Wreck lowered himself between her thighs and rolled his hips hard, pressing his thick erection against her sex.
She murmured a curse on her breath and rolled her eyes closed as his dick slid up her wet folds.
“You know what. Say it again.”
With a wicked smile, she opened her eyes and whispered, “Yummy shifter?”
He shook his head slowly, kissed her, bit her lip before he eased back again and rolled his hips right against that perfect spot again. “Say it.”
“I like you.”
“Good girl. Now say you’re mine.”
Oh, he knew what buttons to push. She loved that feeling of being claimed. Of belonging to him. “Possessive,” she accused him.
He leaned down, slow and controlled, so slow and controlled, and grazed his teeth against her throat. “Say ‘Wreck. I belong to you.’” He leaned back and kissed her, sucked on her bottom lip, rolled his hips again, and the head of his cock was right there, right at her entrance, teasing her. She’d never wanted anything so badly.
“You know I already belong to you,” he said in that deep, raspy voice that was making her so addicted to him. Another kiss, and he gripped her wrists and pushed them slowly up the bed above her head. “Saying it won’t take your power away, Amber. It’ll give you more power over me.” Kiss. Kiss.
She’d been playing before, but what he’d said had touched her. He needed this. He wanted to know she felt the same. And she did.
She cupped his face and dragged his gaze to hers so he could see the truth in her eyes when she said, “I’m yours.”
Wreck slid into her deep, and she arched back and gasped. He was big and stretched her, but after the first few thrusts, he was gliding in smoother and, fuck, it was so good. “Wreck,” she moaned.
With a growl, he pushed into her deeper, hands holding on tight to her wrists. He was consuming her. Every inch of skin that he touched was catching fire, every nerve ending screamed with burning pleasure. He was slow and methodical, pushing deep and hitting her just right over and over. The knots in her middle grew bigger until she was crying out with every stroke.
Train Wreck buried his face against her neck and lost control. He pumped into her faster, harder, so deep. His breath was ragged right along with hers, and as her body seized in orgasm, he slid his arm under her lower back and slammed into her with a groan. His throbbing matched Amber’s as they moved together.
Chest heaving with her breath, she searched Wreck’s face as he eased up. He looked just as stunned as she did. A faint smile appeared and then faded as he studied her face in awe. “You really are mine now,” he whispered.
A grin stretched her face, and she pulled him down to her, hugged him up tight. He rolled them over, taking her with him, and didn’t even break their embrace when he settled them on their sides. Amber draped her leg over his and cuddled as close as she could. He was so warm and strong, and here, with him, the problems of the Two Thorns Ranch seemed a universe away. Everything did.
He didn’t say words, but he spoke well enough with his touch. Slowly, his hand rubbed up and down her back. She exhaled happily and with her fingertip, she traced from his ribs to his hip and back up. Chills lifted on his skin where she touched him.
This was power—affecting a strong, good man like this.
She didn’t know what would happen with the mess back in Irwin, but she did know one thing.
From here on, she wanted to be a part of Train Wreck’s life.
Chapter Fourteen
Train Wreck stretched and squinted at the ray of sun pelting him in the eyeball.
Sunlight?
He sat up in a rush. Amber’s side of the bed was empty, and the covers were tucked tightly around him like he was a burrito.
“Woman?” he rasped out to no answer.
The sunlight in here was a little much. He needed to remember to close the blinds tonight before bed. What time was it?
The phone on his bedside table told him it was ten o’clock. Ten. Shit.
He never slept
in. His internal alarm clock woke him up with the rooster every morning before dawn.
Outside, someone was talking. A man. He strained his ears as he shoved his leg into his jeans. Dead?
In the kitchen, there was a box of donuts sitting on the counter and a cup of coffee that had gone cold. A folded piece of paper sat beside the breakfast that he unfolded fast.
Wreck,
I got up early and got to work. You looked all cute sleeping and I figured you needed the rest. I kept you up a lot last night, haha. My body sure thanks you. I think I’m glowing today. Seriously. I stole your truck for a quick breakfast run. I hope you don’t mind. Eat! I have big plans for today. And tonight, nyehehehe.
Yours,
Amber
Yours. He huffed a chuckle. Gah, he loved the sight of that word on the ruled notebook paper. This woman was something else. Okay, she hadn’t run away. Just hadn’t slept like the dead as he’d apparently done. He ate quick and readied for the day, then grabbed the cold cup of coffee on his way out the door.
Outside, Dead, Quickdraw, and Two Shots Down were unloading windows from the back of a truck.
“What the hell?” he asked. “What are y’all doing?”
Quickdraw walked past him with a window in his grip and jerked his chin toward the front door. “Everything is your lady’s fault.” Was that a smile at the corner of Quickdraw’s lips? That old bull never smiled.
As Train Wreck followed Quickdraw up the porch stairs, he cast a quick glance at Dead and Two Shots by the truck. Dead waved at him, wearing the stupidest smile Wreck had ever seen. A little weirded out, Wreck tossed up a two-fingered wave himself and made his way inside.
Once Quickdraw’s big-ass body was finished blocking out the whole house, he could see Amber in the kitchen, sweeping the floors. She looked up at him with the biggest, prettiest smile he’d ever witnessed on anyone. “Hi!”
She was wearing her Wrangler skinny jeans and a white V-neck shirt that showed off her dark skin. Her curls were up in a messy bun, and she had a pretty blue and white floral scarf keeping any flyaway curls off her face. Her makeup sure looked pretty with a pink lipstick that matched her pink blushing cheeks.
Raven and Cheyenne were upstairs in the loft working, and Annabelle was down with Amber, wiping the cabinet shelves with cleaning cloths. A banging sounded, and sure enough, Quickdraw was already maneuvering the window he’d been carrying into the opening where one of the broken ones had been last night.
“What have you done, woman?” he asked in shock.
“I called in the troops!”
He closed the gap between them and lifted her up in the air, hugged her tight. “I can see that.”
She giggled and hugged his neck. “You mad?”
“Hell, no, this is awesome.”
“Good. We have a meeting at three with a flooring company who had the best deals in town on wood floors. And after that we can shop for some furniture and bedding.” She pointed her finger up to the loft above them. “The girls are getting rid of the owl nest. Don’t worry, there aren’t any babies in it. It’s old. I got the deep-cleaning supplies while I was in town getting donuuuuts.” She sang the last word in a pretty opera voice.
“I ate, like, four of them,” he admitted, setting her on her feet. He kissed her smile just because he felt like it, and when he pulled back, her cheeks were even pinker and her smile had turned megawatt. Goodness, she was a stunner.
“Okay,” he uttered, looking around. Dead and Two Shots were headed upstairs with their windows to fix the broken ones up there. “I suppose it’s good to have handy friends.”
“Oh, we’ll probably fuck this up,” Dead assured him. “None of us has ever installed windows before, but at least they were a standard size they have in stock. We watched an internet video.”
“They did,” Quickdraw grumbled. “I don’t do directions.”
Anabelle turned form her task cleaning cabinet shelves and assured him, “He really doesn’t.”
Shocker.
This place smelled like lemon-scented cleaner, and a cloud of dust had been kicked up from Amber’s sweeping, but they’d already knocked down all the cobwebs, the counters were clean, the old pictures had been removed from the walls, and the fireplace looked like it had been scrubbed. This place was starting to take shape. He could now imagine it when it was finished.
He didn’t understand this. These people were taking time out of their day to help him fix up his house. People he respected. And Amber had kicked it all off. She’d listened when he’d talked about wishing to be part of their herd. And truth be told, he was getting a little choked up over the kind gesture.
Amber’s eyes were so open and earnest. “You happy?” he asked, because that would be the cherry on top of this day. If she said those words out loud.
“I’m very happy,” she murmured, running her nails through the back of his hair. If he was a big cat shifter, he would be purring right now.
“Where do you need me, boss-lady.”
“You know anything about plumbing? The water is coming out brown, and we need the fresh stuff to mop these floors when I’m done sweeping.”
Train Wreck tipped his hat and swatted her ass. God, he loved the feel of it. “Yes, ma’am.” He walked away, but turned on second thought and pulled her in, murmured in her ear, “I’ll reward you later.”
And, damn, if her smile didn’t get even prettier when it was wicked. He had a hard time walking away from her, but she’d given him a job, and he had a few ideas on how to remedy that problem. First off, he needed to run the water through all the sinks and showers and make sure everything was draining. Might just be the last owner hadn’t lived here in a long time. And the water had been sitting dirty in the pipes. When he had those running and the water draining (thank the Lord above), he went and checked the garage. The hot water heater was old but seemed to be running fine once he got the pilot light going. There was a hose sitting on top of a stack of old paint cans, and that was up next. He needed to drain the dirty water and silt from the water heater tank.
He jogged back inside and checked the sinks and drains. Some of them were slow, so he made a mental note to pick up some Drano and see if he could clear them up a bit that way. The water started running clear after a good ten minutes, and Amber went to work scrubbing the sinks out. There were a bunch of supplies the last owner left in the garage, so Train Wreck found the lightbulbs and an old rickety ladder and changed out the broken ones on the deer antler chandelier in the living room, then cleaned it with rags Amber kept sending up to him. He had a moment as he was standing up there. He was on the second to top rung of the ladder. Amber was holding it steady and chattering happily about how they should put strands of lights up in the loft rafters, and she was smiling up at him so big. Someone had dragged a speaker in and was playing one of his favorite country albums, and the herd was singing and joking and talking so easy with his lady—his lady—that this house suddenly felt like a home. There was a difference.
This place was filled with good right now, and it filled up his old, jaded heart.
Amber had done this. She’d given him this moment.
Wreck finished cleaning the last antler and climbed down the creaking ladder, and then he pulled Amber in close and rested his cheek against hers. He had to hunch over to do it because she was shorter than him, but he just wanted to touch her like this.
“What’s this for?” she asked softly, hugging him right back.
“I’m happy, too.”
When her hug got tighter, it loosened something inside his soul. The weight of loneliness lifted off him, and for the first time in maybe his whole life, Wreck could breathe easy. Not from his lungs. But from his heart. Everything felt lighter when Amber was in his arms.
And that had to mean something. A woman who could heal the insides of a man without even trying, without even knowing they were damaged in the first place. Amber meant more than she knew, and someday he was going to find a way to
show her how special she was.
That started with making sure she was safe when she went back to her life at Sloane’s ranch, because she wasn’t just some girl he’d met. She wasn’t just Sloane’s niece or a faceless avenue for information on the man he was hunting.
Amber really was his to protect.
Chapter Fifteen
She didn’t want to go.
The sun was setting over the mountains, and the temperature had dropped. Amber hugged Wreck’s jacket tighter around her and snuggled into the bag chair between Cheyenne and Raven.
“This place is so beautiful,” she murmured, breaking the comfortable silence.
“It really is,” Annabelle said. “Oh!” She sat up straight and cradled her belly. “Goodness gracious, Tuff is a little wrecking ball tonight.”
“He’s moving?” Amber asked.
“Want to feel?”
“For real?” Amber squeaked out excitedly.
“We’ve felt him a hundred times,” Raven told her. “He’s going to be a hellion like his father. I’m calling it.”
Amber looked out over the old, dilapidated bucking arena. The boys had secured a few of the panels with zip ties and chains and a good amount of duct tape, but it worked for their training tonight. Train Wreck was in his human form, pulling gates for the boys.
He cast her a quick smile and yanked the gate open for Dead’s white and black speckled bull.
Amber nodded at Annabelle. “I’ve never felt a baby belly before.”
“It’ll be weird,” Cheyenne assured her. “It’s like an alien in there!”
Annabelle belted out a laugh as Amber pushed out of the hot pink chair she’d melted into. She’d gotten different colors for all of them when she was in town, but for a selfish reason. She liked to imagine sitting right here again someday, with these friends, while watching the man she was falling in love with. The girls could each have their very own chairs. They were special.