Clem’s grin is fond. “Nothing scares that woman except for taxes and sitting still. Have a good night.”

  When she leaves, Durban doesn’t move. “You don’t have to help clean up.”

  “No, it’s . . .” Oh. Doesn’t he want me here? He did say that our arrangement is just that. He’s helping me de-stress and get silent, orgasmic revenge on Stanford and January. His interest in me doesn’t go beyond that. “Okay. Sure. Thanks again.”

  “Do you want to stay?”

  “I’ve got other things to do.”

  “We all do. But you already put in the time and effort to set this up. You don’t have to keep working.” He tugs out a chair with the toe of his boot. “Sit.”

  Since I don’t want to go home and hear my parents chat about wedding logistics and the ranch operations—if they’re even home—I do as he says.

  “What do you want to drink? Another limeade?”

  The tasting room serves vodka mojitos, but I almost prefer the mock version. I get in less trouble that way. “I’ve had a lot of sugar. I need something more solid.”

  “Like a good steak?” he asks as he rounds the counter with an armload of glasses.

  My stomach rumbles. Elodie’s baked goods are to die for, and the load of bread I bought from her is on my passenger seat, but a well-seasoned steak would hit the spot. “I could grill one when I get home, but Daddy hates it when someone else uses his grill.”

  “I’ll cook you one.” He pauses while filling the drawer dishwasher like he can’t believe he offered.

  I can’t either. “That’s not necessary.”

  “You got other plans?”

  “Avoiding anything related to the wedding.”

  He smirks. “Let me finish this, and you can follow me to my place.”

  “Your place?” I ask, feigning ignorance to hide my racing heart. “You live around here?”

  Humor fills his eyes. “It comes in handy when I bring drunk girls home.”

  “Mm. It’s a rampant problem.”

  He shoves the door closed. “It’s only happened once, but she was polite enough not to vomit at my house.”

  I wince and he starts chuckling. An evening that should’ve been my most humiliating, and we’re laughing about it. I’m not proud of myself, but looking back, I can’t think of a better way it could’ve turned out.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Durban

  We decide to eat on my porch. The cozy setting evokes a lot of expectations I had for this house, and it’s tying my insides into a pretzel.

  It’s only a meal, I remind myself for the hundredth time. As I grill us some rib eyes, she sips on ice water and I nurse a whiskey neat while we chat about the crochet club, my house, and the origins of the gold mine and how it landed in Hennessy hands.

  “Your family has deep ties to the land,” she says as I set down our plates of steaming meat.

  I nod. “Dad was really proud his family was able to buy it from the mining company. He always said our roots don’t run deep; they make up the earth.”

  “The whole town is glad it stayed in Hennessy hands.”

  “That’s good to hear.” Smiling, I tuck into my food. We finish our meal in companionable silence. Two hungry people who seem to enjoy each other’s company.

  My throat thickens each time I think about how much I’m enjoying myself. How often I wish it would happen again and again.

  I push my plate away and keep my attention focused on the trees making up my backyard.

  “Everything okay?” she asks quietly. She’s just finished her meal, and I haven’t said a word for several minutes.

  “It’s just hitting me,” I answer honestly. I’d never talk about this, but for some reason, the words rush off my tongue. “When I built this house, it was for friends and family. But other than my brothers, you’re the first visitor I’ve had.”

  Her lips part. “Wasn’t Natalie⁠—”

  “No.” Not for lack of an invite. I could figure out logistics, but she never did. “I always went there. She hasn’t been back since this was getting built. Haven and I flipped a house to help us with income until the renovations were done and the ranch was fully operational. I haven’t even been in this place three years. Haven and I are usually at Iverson’s, since that’s where the shop and everything is for the ranch. So we gather there, and I get to hang out with Kacey.”

  “You wish it was different?”

  “I feel like I’m borrowing someone’s happiness.” I can’t believe I said that. She’s going to think I’m pathetic, getting nothing but some frequent-flyer miles out of a four-year relationship.

  “I know what you mean,” she says quietly. “This wedding is hard because it’s what I wanted, but also because it means it’s just going to take longer for me to get there. I want a family, but I also want my person. Someone who’s just for me.”

  A cavern in my chest echoes her sentiment. I thought Natalie was that person, but my life is no different without her. “Do you feel like you wasted those years?”

  She chews on the inside of her cheek as she thinks. “I didn’t then. Now, it feels like it.” She rises and gathers our plates. “Stanford’s taken up too much of my thoughts lately. I’m going to clean up since you cooked.”

  My kitchen is just off of the porch, but it feels like she’s running away. I grab our glasses and silverware and follow her inside. “Grilling is nothing. It’s a treat to do it for more than one person.”

  “I appreciate it.” She loads my dishwasher and I hand her what’s in my arms. Straightening, she peers out the window over the sink that looks onto the deck. Her full lower lip sticks out. “Did you grab everything?”

  “Yeah?” Why would that upset her?

  “I was going to do it. Like I said, you cooked.”

  “I don’t mind,” I say carefully as the crease between her brows deepens.

  “Or you don’t think I’ll get back to the rest. I do . . . eventually.” She hip-checks the door closed.

  “I believe it.” Most of the time, my house doesn’t feel lived in. Seeing signs of her doesn’t bother me, but she’s worried it will. Has someone made her feel bad about it?

  Wasn’t I that guy? Holding her time blindness over her when she’s trying to do better—ignoring that there may be legitimate reasons for her tardiness. I’m not doing that to her again. It’s just a little clutter.

  This thing between us is about helping us through tough times, but I can build her up too, just like she did for me with Rafting and Tasting. “So you need to believe me when I say it’s fine. Is there something else bothering you?”

  She barks out a laugh and heads out to the deck. “Until the wedding is over, that answer will always be yes. I have the cake tasting with Elodie on Wednesday. It’s going to be a whole spectacle. They want a cupcake tower, a cookie cascade, and then a five-tier cake—with each tier being a different flavor.” Throwing her hands up in the air, outrage furrows her brow. I want to smooth out the lines only because I know she’s bothered. “There aren’t going to be that many guests. Five tiers?”

  “Each a different flavor,” I echo.

  “I’m trying to give them realistic expectations. They think because Elodie runs a small bakery, she has nothing better to do but make cupcake towers and play with flavors. And because Elodie’s Elodie, she’s going to do it. It’s going to be the best, but I’m going to be so upset for her because the couple isn’t going to treat her like she deserves. They aren’t treating anyone like they deserve. And they get away with it!”

  Her chest is rising and falling and color leeches up her neck. She weathers how the couple and their family treat her without complaint, but the way they might treat Elodie has her incensed.

  I slide my hand around her neck. “They won’t walk all over Elodie. Know why?”

  She gazes up at me with those wide gray eyes. I have her pinned between the table and me. “Why?”

  “Because you’re going to talk circles around them until they feel like dumbasses for disagreeing. Just like you did with Chester. Like you did at the tasting room. You’re good at your job.”

  “You mean that?”

  I stroke my thumb up and down her neck, her warm, soft skin sliding under my touch. “You’re excellent at what you do, and you need to start calling them out on their bullshit instead of absorbing the blame.”

  “I’m paid to tolerate their blame.”

  “It’s not right.” I tip my head closer to hers.

  “You’re in customer service.” Her voice drops lower. “You should know about pleasing the customer.”

  “I don’t give a fuck about pleasing anyone.” I skim my lips over hers. “Just you.”

  “This isn’t . . .” She swallows and I keep a good inch between us. “This isn’t part of our agreement.”

  “You’re stressed.”

  She nods, and her eyes shimmer. “I got myself all worked up.”

  Fuck me. She’s worked up in all the wrong ways, but I know all the right ones. I tsk. “There you go. Seems you need some relief.”

  “Durban?”

  The nervous thread in my name gives me pause. “Yeah?”

  “Is it only our agreement? Like . . . friends with benefits?”

  The corner of my mouth tips up. “Are we friends, Belle?”

  Her breath gusts across my chin. “Something like that.”

  I had a benefits-only relationship for the last four years, even if I didn’t know it at the time. I should run. I want more. But I want Campbell, and without this wedding or the pressure it’s causing, there wouldn’t be an us. I wrap my other hand around her waist. “Do you want me to relieve your stress?”

  “I want . . .” Her heavy-lidded gaze strokes over my face. A light breeze ruffles her hair. “You.”

  She’s bold, honest, and vulnerable when she says that. It’s my undoing. I lift her to the counter and position myself between her legs. “I want you spread out beneath me and at my mercy.” Her lips puff apart and I claim them, sweeping my tongue inside. She doesn’t taste like whiskey tonight. Crisp water and my cooking. A possessive part of me rears up. Damn right her flavor comes from me caring for her.

  I break the kiss to lift the shirt over her head. I push her back until she’s sprawled on the tabletop so she’s ready. My next favorite meal. I bunch it up and slide it under her head. “Does that flush when you get angry cover your whole chest when you come?” I trail my fingers down her neck and over her sternum, stopping at the lace border of her bra.

  Birds sing in the distance. It’s wide open out here, yet we’re more isolated than we’ve ever been. I finally have her all to myself.

  She bites her lip. “Only when I come really hard.”

  “Is that a challenge, Belle?” I slide the cups of her bra down until her rosy pink nipples pop free. A groan rips from me and I cup one breast, rolling her tight peak under my fingertips.

  “Just an FYI. I’m ready to come really hard.” She sounds breathless, and she arches into my touch.

  “You can be nice and loud here.” I unhook her bra and drape it over the chair. Thank fuck her pants are easy enough to slide off. She lifts her legs for me.

  If I stopped to appreciate the beauty of her spread on the table with her hair fanning around her, I’d be captivated. Enthralled. My very own whiskey siren, tempting me away from the careful plans that keep me isolated and alone.

  “You’re so fucking beautiful.” I lean down and put my mouth right where the wet spot on her underwear is. I lick out and taste her through the fabric.

  “God, Durban.” She groans and rolls her hips into me.

  “I’m only getting started.” I peel her underwear down. She plants her heels on the edge of the table and I push her knees apart. She gets fucking wetter the more I look. I drag a finger through it and her whole body trembles. “This pretty pink pussy of yours is all I can think about.”

  She tenses like she’s going to get self-conscious and close her legs. I don’t bother sitting. I stoop down, bracing a leg behind me, and lick through her soaked seam.

  “Oh God!”

  “Be fucking loud,” I say over her swollen clit before I claim it as my own.

  Her moans ring through the trees and she buries her hand in my hair. She tugs at my scalp as I feast. I push her legs up farther, opening her completely to me. I want her powerful orgasm. I want to see her flush. I want to sink into her when she’s spent and ready for me.

  Need pounds at my temples. I force myself to ease back. She releases my hair and meets my hungry gaze.

  “Are you going to let me inside of you tonight?” I push a finger in so she knows what I mean. Her tits rise and fall, her pearled nipples straining for the sky.

  “I can’t wait,” she says on an exhale.

  I push another finger in. My erection is digging into my zipper, but I welcome the pain. I’d shoot my load with no warning otherwise. “Do I have to go get condoms?”

  Her eyes widen. “You don’t have any?” I thrust in and out and her eyes go hazy. “How does that feel so good?”

  Because it’s me. I don’t say that. It feels heavier than this moment. “After you come, I’ll tuck you into my bed and get some.”

  “I’m—I’m on birth control, and after . . .” She rolls onto her elbows and rocks herself into my steady thrusts. “I was tested.”

  “Me too.” On some level, I guess I assumed my previous partner hadn’t been waiting for me.

  “Then—oh, God.” Her head drops back. “Take me without one.”

  I’m supposed to wait. I’m supposed to take my time. But I straighten and yank my fly open with my free hand, stroking in and out of her while I do it.

  She sits up higher, her gaze going from my crotch, where I’m wrestling my shirt out of the way one-handed, to the other hand pumping in and out of her.

  I free my dick.

  She gasps. “Is there anything about you that’s not impressive?”

  I look down. My cock soars past my open fly but gets crowded by my shirt. I rip the damn thing over my head and drop it at my boots.

  She’s swaying into me, urging me to go faster, all while eating up my torso with her gaze. “I want to touch you.”

  “Later.” It’s my time to indulge in all those fantasies that have haunted my dreams day and night.

  I shove my pants down farther. Cool air caresses my dick, giving me a modicum of control. My fingers are dripping but I continue prepping her. I won’t last long. Not with the sexiest woman laid out for me, making those noises I can’t get enough of.

  I stroke a thumb over her clit.

  “Yes,” she groans. In her need to get closer, to get me to go faster, she’s worked her ass down to the edge of the table. I’m so fucking close to paradise. But I don’t move.

  I carefully insert another finger, pushing all three into her tight channel. Her mouth drops open and she sits up higher. The angle’s changed and she can’t rock against me as easily. She’s at my mercy. But I’m completely at hers.

  I circle her nub, and a full-body quiver runs through her. Her breathing is speeding up, and she’s close. I’m fucking close too. I remove my hand, instantly missing her heat. She hisses and arches, like she’s seeking me. I’m going to give her what she wants, what I need.

  Notching myself at her hot entrance, I go rigid. The pleasure ricochets through me like a pinball. “Fuck, you’re tight, Belle.”

  She grips my shoulders and we both watch as I push in. I ease out and sway forward, her juices coating me. I push in farther. “Your greedy little cunt is taking me so well.”

  Hell, I don’t talk like that. But she’s not fazed.

  “You fill me so good. Like I’ve always wanted.”

  Pure satisfaction overwhelms me. No one’s satisfied her like I’m going to.

  I bury myself to the hilt. She wiggles, adjusting to my size, clenching around me like she’s demanding my release. It’s hers. All of this, everything I can give her, is hers.

  “Watch me fuck you.” I pump into her, bracing my legs and clenching my ass cheeks.

  I take her in. The pink cheeks. The flush developing on her chest and cresting up. The wonder and lust in her eyes. My pace increases. My peak is way too fucking close. Her walls flutter around me, but she’s languid, enjoying the fuck.

  I never thought that moment in the storeroom would bring us here. I’ve stroked myself off to her moans so many times. Imagined how hot and wet she’d be around my cock, and here she is. My real-life fantasy.

  I lift her hand, curling mine around her fingers so only her index and middle fingers are free.

  I suck them into my mouth, the salty-sweet flavor reminding me of her pussy. She whimpers.

  I release her and continue thrusting. My damn eyes are going to cross if I have to hold back anymore. An entire electrical storm is waiting to unleash at the base of my spine, but I’m not coming without her.

  Her tits are shaking with my thrusts, like a wave rolling through her body, from her pelvis to her shoulders. She’s even wetter than before and the smack of our bodies fills the air.

  “Show me how you touched yourself that night.”

  She eagerly does as I ask, and fuck if that doesn’t make me almost immediately nut.

  “Oh God.” Her moan fills my ears. All of my senses are focused on her. The tips of her fingers graze me as I propel in and out. Her moves get jerky and her cunt grips me tighter.

  “So. Fucking. Good,” I grit out.

  She spasms hard around my dick and then lets out a cry. “Yes!”

  Fuck, she’s coming. Ecstasy courses through my veins, coming from right where we’re connected. My guards slam down and my climax roars out of my body with a shout.

  “Fuck, Belle. Fuuuuck.” I spill inside of her, the first time I’ve done that. Everything’s more intense. My climax, the squeeze of her around me, and the slide of my cock inside of her.

  When I finish coming, I sag over her, propping myself on my hands by her head. I dip my head and lick a path up her neck. “You’re blushing.”

 

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