Bishop Ridge

by Cate Ashwood

  Jackson

  Fuck, I was turned on.

  When it came to Logan Baker, I couldn’t seem to get my body under control. Standing a foot away from him in a doorway was, apparently, too much for my overcharged libido to handle, and even the thought of getting my hands on him again was already making me crazy.

  There were definitely security cameras all over that hospital, but I figured it was better for one security guard see me adjusting myself than for half the employees to see me walking around with my jeans tented. Counting to ten, I willed my dick to soften, but I could have injured someone with my erection. With five minutes to spare before my appointment, I forced myself to think about the time one of the guys went to take a piss out in the woods and ended up with his leg in a bear trap.

  I didn’t think Dr. Prescott would appreciate me walking into his office sporting so much wood I could start my own fucking lumber company.

  Come to think of it, though, the last time I’d been in a doctor’s office, I’d been hard enough to pound nails. I hoped to Christ I wasn’t developing some sort of weird medical fetish, but I figured my state of arousal had less to do with being in a clinic and more to do with the man who’d been examining me.

  Logan Baker. There’d always been a chance I’d run into him when I was in town.

  That was a lie.

  There was no chance of not running into him. Not when I casually asked the woman making the appointment if he’d be on shift at that time.

  Knowing I was going to see him again—no matter what it took—had me fantasizing about the possibilities for days leading up to today. I was losing my fucking mind. I didn’t do this shit. Ever. But this time around I was bending my own rules. And the more I thought about it, and the longer I had to wait, the more it made me want him again.

  I couldn’t remember ever being so perfectly on the same page with someone in bed. There was no awkwardness, no fumbling around. It was like we’d had years to practice, and after the first time—and the second and third—I couldn’t wait for the next.

  So, the sooner I got this appointment over with, the sooner I could be buried balls-deep in him again. And wasn’t that just the sweetest fucking thought?

  I found the information desk, and the woman behind it pointed me in the direction of the surgical offices. The hospital was small enough that I didn’t have any trouble at all finding them, and a minute later, I was sitting outside Dr. Prescott’s room, willing my dick to cooperate.

  “Mr. Daley?”

  A man—Dr. Prescott, I figured—stuck his head out the door and ushered me inside. He barely looked old enough to have completed medical school, but Logan had assured me he was the best surgeon in the state.

  I planted myself in one of the chairs opposite his desk. This wasn’t like the medical office where Logan had seen me in Belcourt. There was no paper-covered table or medical equipment bolted to the walls. This could have been an accountant’s office if it weren’t for the impressive collection of medical books that lined the shelves behind him.

  “Dr. Baker referred me to you for a consult on the removal of a bullet from your shoulder, is that correct?”

  “Yep.”

  Prescott was looking at me with an expression I couldn’t place, and I wondered if he knew about me and Logan. Since they were, at the very least, coworkers, and maybe even friends, there was a possibility Logan had filled him in. The longer I sat there under the scrutiny of his stare, the more I wondered how much he knew.

  Though, if he did have all the details, his clipped, professional tone didn’t give it away.

  “Being that the procedure is nonemergent, and we have very limited facilities here, you’re looking at a wait of a month or two most likely.”

  “I’m good with that. It’s been there for six years already. Another few months is no big deal.”

  He clicked around on his computer before returning his attention to me. “December twenty-third. Or we can book you in the new year if you don’t want to spend the holidays healing from surgery.”

  “Christmas is as good a time as any to get sliced open.”

  “If you preferred it, I could hand your case off to another surgeon at a larger hospital—you’d likely be seen much sooner than if you were to wait for my schedule to open up here.”

  “Logan said you were the best in the state, so if it’s all the same to you, I’ll stick with you.”

  Prescott’s eyebrows shot up. “Logan, huh?”

  “Yeah. He had nothing but good things to say about you,” I said, intentionally missing his point.

  Prescott grinned. “That’s nice to hear. I’ll be sure to thank him for his glowing recommendation.”

  I liked this guy. His words were all bullshit, but the way he was looking at me, I knew he’d put all the pieces together—if they hadn’t been given to him already assembled, that is.

  “I don’t seem to have any imaging from previous scans. I’ll have your records brought over, but why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself and your medical history?”

  “Not much to tell, really. Not many jobs I’ve had in the past offer medical, so I mostly avoided hospitals when I could.”

  “But you were treated for the gunshot wound?”

  “Sure,” I said, evading the question. Getting treated by my brother’s friend in the back seat of his Monte Carlo technically counted as treatment, even if it was just a tube of superglue and a dirty T-shirt. There was no changing it now anyway, and if Prescott figured it out, he figured it out.

  “Which hospital?”

  “I don’t remember.” Now I was flat-out lying, but I didn’t much feel like getting into my past with him.

  He watched me, taking notes, on what I couldn’t begin to imagine, and I became aware of the moment he noticed Logan’s address written across my palm.

  His eyebrows lifted slightly, and his lips pinched together as though he was trying not to smile.

  “Well, despite the fact that all I have to go on is notes from Logan”—he stressed his name again, his gaze flicking up from my chart to make eye contact as he did—“I believe it’ll likely be a fairly simple operation. We’ll need to get some scans, but from there, we should be able to proceed.”

  I nodded. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. You’ll be hearing from my office soon with more details.”

  I thanked him again as I stood and walked out of the room.

  As the map on my phone showed my blue dot getting closer and closer to Logan’s place, anticipation built to a peak. My blood pumped faster, as though my body had already slipped into sex mode, gearing up for what was sure to be a marathon of fucking once I got there, if our single past encounter was anything to go by.

  And Jesus, I hoped it was.

  After driving for what felt like ages, I found the place. A wrought iron archway stretched above the lane, differentiating it from the logging roads I’d seen every few miles the whole way out. As I got closer, I could read the words Bishop Ridge Ranch scrolled across the top. I had a sudden flash of Logan in plaid and chaps, and my already aching dick twitched a little.

  I’d never had a thing for cowboys—I’d even lived in Texas for a year and I was never once tempted—but imagining Logan wrangling some cattle or building a fence and I could have pounded the nails in myself with how hard I was.

  This whole thing was really fucking with my head, but at that moment, I couldn’t bring myself to care. All I wanted to do was get inside.

  The driveway was long enough that Logan’s place wasn’t visible until I rounded a corner. The front half of the property was heavily wooded, but there, nestled between the trees, was a huge farm-style house with a wraparound porch. I could see the barn beyond it, and the outline of a couple of outbuildings beside it.

  I pulled up and parked, and within seconds was knocking on the front door. For several long minutes, there was nothing but silence around me.

  What the hell?

  Had I gotten the addres
s wrong? The numbers had smudged a little on the palm of my hand, but the street name was perfectly clear. There couldn’t be another Bishop Ridge Drive around here. Then again, I didn’t see Logan’s truck parked anywhere around, and I didn’t see a garage either.

  Had I imagined that he actually wanted me to come over? Had I somehow put the words in his mouth and now he was blowing me off? That seemed like a far stretch. He was as into this as I was. There was no faking chemistry like we had. So where the fuck did he go?

  “Jackson!”

  I heard my name called from somewhere behind me, and I turned to see Logan jogging closer. “I’m sorry. I forgot to tell you to come around, behind the house. I don’t live here.”

  “You don’t.”

  “No. Well. I used to. But I fixed up the barn and I live in there now.”

  “You chose to live in a barn over a perfectly good house?”

  He laughed. “Come on in. You’ll see.”

  I followed him along a pathway that ran beside the perfectly good, apparently vacant house. The barn I’d seen when I pulled up was larger than I’d thought at first with wide planks painted a dark red covering the outside. Huge windows made up most of one side.

  “Guess you don’t need to worry about neighbors looking in.”

  “Nope,” he said. “No one around for miles.”

  He opened the door, and I followed him inside.

  “Shit.” I wasn’t much for interior design, but Logan’s barn-turned-house was impressive.

  Two-thirds of the place was open, with huge vaulted ceilings and exposed beams. Everything was warm wood and soft lighting. There was a large staircase that led to a loft, presumably where Logan slept, and beneath that a cozy-looking living room. In the center of the long wall stood an oversized fireplace clad in huge stones.

  “This is why I live here rather than in the house.”

  “No shit. I would too.”

  “Maybe it’s a throwback to when I was a kid with visions of becoming a cowboy, but I’ve always wanted to live in a barn, so when I bought the property and there was a barn already standing, I decided to convert it.”

  “You wanted to be a cowboy, huh?” I stalked toward him, flashes of the fantasy from earlier coming back. “Rawhide and chaps?”

  “You got a thing for those? Because I know enough people around here who run actual ranches…”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Arrangements could be made…”

  “That’s very good to know.”

  “So, you want the rest of the tour?”

  I could see almost every room in Logan’s place from where we were standing in the center of the barn. All but one, in fact.

  “Lead the way.”

  The loft spanned the width of the house, with one side appearing to be a home office and the other filled with a comfortable-looking chair and a gigantic bed. I couldn’t decide which one I wanted to fuck Logan on first.

  The chair held such promise—good angles, sturdy construction—but the soft blankets covering Logan’s neatly made bed were begging to be crumpled.

  I heard him say my name from behind me, and when I turned he was closer than I thought. I reached for him, bringing him to where I could really get my hands on him. I cupped his face, pulling him in and covering his mouth with mine. It had been hours—days if I was totally honest—of wanting to do just this, and the quiet anticipation that had built in that time suddenly exploded with a swipe of his tongue across mine.

  “I never do this,” I growled, kissing down the side of his neck, then sucking up a mark along the curve of his shoulder. “I never fucking do this, but Christ, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

  “How do you want me?” Logan barely managed the words, his voice already breathy.

  “Naked.”

  Tugging the hem of his shirt, I slipped it off over his head, then followed with my own. Our pants went next, and then Logan’s hand was on my cock and a wave of heat surged through me. His fingers felt so good wrapped around my dick, the smoothness of his skin in contrast to the roughness with which he gripped me.

  His strokes were so fucking perfect, like he’d been practicing his whole life for this moment. I let him touch me, let his hand move over me for a few minutes, just taking what pleasure I could from how simple this all was, measured strokes, root to crown.

  I rocked into his fist, my hips moving in complementary rhythm, and moaned when he kissed me. Christ, it felt good to kiss him.

  He tasted warmer this time, the cool mint from before replaced with something comforting I couldn’t place. I let my eyes fall closed, let the sensation wash over me. We were close enough that I could feel the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

  I’ll never know where I summoned the brainpower from, but I managed to get us moving. Logan lost his grip on my cock for a moment as he fell backward onto the bed, and I took the opportunity to cover his body with mine, sliding my cock against his.

  He shuddered beneath me, his eyes half closing as I did it again and again, slick friction created from the precome that had gathered between us. I loved the sounds he made, the way his body jolted when I got the angle just right.

  We ground together, rutting against each other for long minutes until my impatience became too much to ignore. When I looked away from Logan to scan the room for possible lube locations, I instead found the tube and a handful of condoms already in a pile on the bed.

  I cocked an eyebrow as I reached for them. “So, you thought I was a sure thing, huh?”

  There was nothing coy about Logan now. “No point in wasting time.”

  “I like the way you think.”

  I quickly tore open a condom and rolled it down over Logan’s cock, and after giving it a quick coating of lube, I tossed the wrapper and the bottle away and positioned myself over him.

  His eyes widened. “You’re—”

  “Yep.” I grabbed his cock and lined it up with my hole before lowering myself onto it in one fluid motion. “No point in wasting time.”

  “Fuck,” Logan said, the word more an exhale than anything as he gripped the blanket in tight fists. “Jackson…”

  The sound of my name on his lips pushed me into motion, and I lifted myself up before lowering down again, impaling myself on his cock. I started slow, getting used to the width of him inside me, waiting for the burn to subside. It’d been a long time since I’d bottomed, but tonight, it was exactly what I needed.

  Heat streaked through me as I moved, gradually increasing the speed, and Logan began to thrust in time, his hips meeting my ass with each stroke. It felt so fucking good to be filled up like this, like this was a fragment of my sex life that I’d never given the proper attention to.

  Well, I sure as fuck was paying attention now.

  I leaned forward to kiss him, the change in angle sending bolts of pleasure through me as the tip of Logan’s cock dragged along my prostate. I groaned, my breathing raspy and ragged, and my legs started to shake.

  Logan’s grip on me tightened, and he shifted, pushing me off, then flipping me onto my back. I was going to have bruises on my ass tomorrow from where he held me, but he’d be wearing matching marks as I used my heels to drive him forward.

  He thrust into me, fucking me so hard I could barely catch my breath. It was rough, it was urgent, and it made me fucking fly, the sensations Logan pulled from me so intense that I had no idea how I was ever going to have anything better than this.

  With one last thrust, my orgasm slammed into me unexpectedly. I shot between us, coating our stomachs in come as Logan buried himself inside me as deep as he could go, his dick pulsing his own release.

  For several long minutes, we stayed like that, coming down from the high until Logan softened enough that he slipped from my body. I held him in place, though, too wrecked to move, and too content to need to.

  Logan

  “You gotta go?” Jackson rolled over as I climbed out of bed, his eyes soft from sleep and slightly les
s guarded than I’d seen him in the past.

  “Yeah. Just for a few hours.” I didn’t want to. I’d been a fucking mess when I’d run into him the day before, and bringing him home with me had been an inspired idea. He’d done such a good job distracting me from the rest of my life, making me forget about everything that had happened. It was so nice to lose myself in him for a little while, but there was only so lost I could get.

  He wrapped his hand around my wrist, his fingers curling over my skin, and pulled me back into bed. I went more willingly than I probably should have considering I was due at the hospital in half an hour and it took twenty minutes to get there. I still needed to shower the scent of sex off my skin. I let him roll me under him and pin me down with the weight of his body.

  Sliding my hands over planes of muscles, I moaned when he kissed the pulse point at my neck. “I’m scheduled for surgery this morning.” The protest was weak, but I felt like I should make it.

  “I bet little Johnny will be fine with his tonsils for an extra hour or two. Better yet, get someone else to do the surgery, and you and I can play doctor here.”

  I laughed. “Tempting, but there’s no one to cover. Gage has been out with norovirus. There’s a chance he’s back today, but we’ve got a backlog of the routine procedures that were already postponed.”

  “If you’re sure…”

  Even with thoughts of gastroenteric diseases running through my head, my body responded to him as though he hadn’t fucked me stupid less than two hours ago.

  I arched into him, rocking my hips against his. He was as hard as I was.

  “You gonna hang out here, or do you have to get back?” I asked, trying to change the subject.

  I wasn’t sure which scenario I was hoping for more. On the one hand, I’d never had sex like I did with Jackson. My legs were still jelly, and I was seriously doubting whether I’d be able to stand through a whole surgery if I had to. Not that I minded all that much.

  On the other hand, the sex was so good it was messing with my head. I was living in this delirium, or at least I had been for the last twelve hours, and as fun as it was, I could already feel my brain clouding with confusion.