I follow. Grinding deep. Pressing as far inside her as I can get. My cock throbbing, pulsing, filling her. I feel every pulse. Every furious rush. My forehead against hers. My eyes open. Hers open. Both of us watching each other come apart.
I stay inside her after. Don’t pull out. Don’t move. Just lie there, buried deep, my weight on my elbows, my hands in her hair, my mouth pressing slow kisses to her forehead. Her cheeks. The tears on her eyelashes. The corner of her smile.
“Beau?” she whispers.
“Yeah, baby?”
“If we just made a baby on my childhood room…”
I laugh. Low. Full. My chest shaking against hers. She grins up at me…wet eyes, swollen lips, looking thoroughly fucked and completely happy.
“At least we made it to the bed,” I remind her.
“Barely.”
“Still counts.”
Sixteen
Ina
Beau’s taking me to dinner. Not our usual takeout on his couch, leftovers at mine, or me cooking while he stands behind me at the stove with his hands on my hips and his mouth on my neck, pretending to be helpful. An actual date. A real restaurant. The kind with candles and cloth napkins and a menu that doesn’t have prices next to anything, which means everything costs too much.
He picks me up in a clean truck. His hair is combed. He’s in a dark button-down, the one that makes his shoulders look like they’re trying to escape the fabric. Dark jeans. Nice boots. And he shaved. Not all the way…just trimmed the stubble close, so his square jaw is sharp and his full lips stand out even more than usual.
He opens my door. Takes my hand to help me in. And presses a kiss to my cheek that lingers…his warm lips soft on my skin, his breath fanning over my ear, his scent hitting me like a drug. Cedar. Leather. Clean skin. I close my eyes and breathe him in and think:I get to keep this man. This is my life now.
“Are you okay?” I ask with a smirk, catching him staring at me once I’m in the truck. His golden eyes, traveling slowly over my face, my neck, the dress I chose…deep green, fitted, the neckline showing just enough cleavage to make his jaw tighten.
“You’re really pretty,” he rumbles.
My cheeks warm up.
“Thank you, baby. You clean up pretty good yourself.”
The restaurant is candlelit. Rustic but upscale. The kind of place that feels like someone’s fancy barn but charges city prices. My steak melts in my mouth. Dessert is some chocolate thing that’s borderline sexual. I eat every bite of everything because I am not one of those women who orders a salad on a date. I have curves to maintain.
Beau watches me eat the way he watches me do everything. Like it’s the most interesting thing happening in the world. His golden eyes, warm in the candlelight, big hand wrapped around his glass, fingers dwarfing the stem. His thumb brushing slowly across my knuckles on the table between courses. Unhurried. Possessive. Just reminding me that he’s there. Like I could forget.
He tells me about a new bull they’re evaluating. I tell him about Lilah’s latest crisis: her roommate’s boyfriend who won’t leave their dorm. He laughs low and easy, his eyes crinkling. I tell him about Miles’s last text, which was just a photo of a sandwich with no context. He shakes his head and says, “That kid’s funny.” And the casual way he talks about my children, like they’re already family, does something to my chest that I don’t have words for.
We hold hands across the table. His rough, calloused palm against my smooth one. His thumb tracing circles on my wrist where my pulse is probably telling him everything I’m too full of amazing food and feelings to say.
After dinner, he drives us back to his place. The stars are bright. The land is quiet. And when we get inside, it’s just us. Silence. The fire he lit before he left, burning low in the hearth.
He stands behind me. Slides the zipper of my dress down. Slow. His knuckles dragging down my spine. His lips follow…pressing soft kisses down the back of my neck, between my shoulder blades, lower. The dress pools around my feet. He turns me around.
His golden eyes move over my body in the firelight. My bare tits. My belly. The black lace panties I wore because I knew exactly how tonight was going. His jaw clenches, corded throat working. His massive hands hang at his sides, fingers flexing.
“Come here,” I say.
He does. And he fucks me like he means it. Slow. Deep. His tall body covering mine on his massive bed, rough hands laced with mine above my head. His mouth on mine, eyes open. Every stroke, a promise. Every breath shared.
No rush. No frenzy. Just my man inside me, moving like we have all the time in the world. Like this is the beginning of something.
When I come, it’s quiet. A slow, rolling wave that starts deep in my belly and spreads through my whole body. My back arches off the bed. My fingers tighten in his. He follows…pressing deep, holding, his forehead against mine, his groan vibrating through my chest.
After, we just lie there tangled, sweaty, and bare. Beau wrapped around me under the sheets. His chest against my back. One arm, heavy around my waist. His face in my hair. The fire cracking low.
