Page 34 of Bucked Hard

Just when I tense my thighs to stand, Chad’s hand is around the back of my neck, his lips at the shell of my ear and I freeze at the warmth of his breath. “No, you’re not going. You’re coming with me.” His voice is throaty. The words barely controlled with a veiled harshness that hints at his own need.

He’s not asking, he’s telling and it stirs something inside me that longs to give him control.

I don’t want to be in control right now.

He tugs me upward by the hand and I follow behind him even as my brain is still tossing up hurdles and question marks.

We half run, half trip on each other toward the small white cabin by the edge of the soybean field. The cabins are a good bit apart, close enough if you needed some help but far enough apart for privacy.

When we reach the front door, Chad stops, turns and runs a hand down my hair, his eyes evaporating any resistance I could have mustered.

“I need a minute. Do not move from this spot.” Another order and I’m okay with that.

All I can do is nod. Words fail me and I’m lucky my heart and lungs function without any conscious thought.

The darkness inside the rustic cabin windows is replaced with a warm flickering.Candles. He’s lighting candles.

For me.

Is this real?

Chad’s silhouetted in the golden light when he emerges and takes me into his long arms. Without a word his lips are on mine. His hands slip under my shirt, thumbs raising the tank top underneath and pressing against the warm flesh of my back. I gasp at the full contact against my skin. His hands touch me like he is entitled to me. Without question or reservation.

My hands mimic his, I press up over his leather belt, tugging up his shirt and resting my hands on the hard, smooth flesh of his back.

He’s thick and strong, solid and steady. I feel the tension in him, yet his countenance is unwavering, he’s in charge without having to say a word.

“You make me so hard, Rachel. It fucking hurts. You’re the only cure for that pain,” Chad moans, and my hands take in his warmth.

I can’t help myself; I run my fingers up the ridges of his spine and back down, feeling his ribs, the way each muscle is hard and separate from the next. I explore him like I’m reading braille, my fingertips taking in every contour of every muscle. I stop myself just above the waist to his jeans.

He’s breathing harder as I move, shifting his body and rubbing the steel length inside his jeans into my belly.

He wants me. That single thought is more addicting that any drug. And it’s him – I’ve never felt wanting like this. The need for someone.

Holding me tight, he spins me around, and rushes me into the cabin. With the tip of his boot he slams the door behind us, and now I’m helpless, needy and ready.

Pushed up against the wall I realize the sheer size of him. I’m like a doll, while he’s high, broad and thick, and I realize even if I wanted to pull away, I couldn't unless he allowed it.

My head and body buzz, smelling fire and lust on him. But there’s more, too, it’s just unidentifiable. Some scent that men have been using on women since the beginning of time, turning their bodies limp and their minds to mush.

This incredibly sexy cowboy wants me and the dull throb between my legs is now a hopeless banging need.

My doubts linger at the edges of the moment. Can I ever give all of myself to someone else? My insecurities have been with me so long; they know how to get my attention. Desire, and the feeling of being desired, only serve to feed them, bringing them to life. I pull my hands out from under his shirt, pull my lips away from his. My anxiety takes hold, clutching at me. Choking the air from my lungs, pulling me from the moment, and I’m helpless against it. All I can do is wait for it to rake its cold claws into my familiar soft places.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” The deep concern in his voice only makes me want him more. I see panic flood his blue eyes along with a great deal of restraint. His brow furrows waiting for something from me.

“Last night. I thought that was just, I don’t know, a mistake, then that girl pulled up. And I knew it was a mistake.” My heart is on staccato, the anxiety taking hold as panic floods over me.

He huffs out a breath and tightens his hands on my back, curving me forward into him away from the wall. The outline of a hard erection is pushing into my belly and my head swirls and spins. I want to see it. No, I want to feel it with all my parts, I do, more than I’ve wanted Christmas morning to come.

“She’s like a sister. Here.” He releases my waist and I’m standing on my own trying to maintain my balance. When we lose contact, I feel cold and it makes me shiver. He pulls his phone from his back pocket and taps in his password, scrolling and tapping again. Then he holds it up for me. “This is her.” He nods waiting for my agreement as he faces the screen my way, then pulls up text messages fromCourtney.

“Here, take my phone. Look through every text, every picture, email. This is her, Courtney, she’s my friend, Roger’s sister. Nothing more. Look at everything in there. I live the life of a monk, little Dove. Or I have, until now.”

ChapterTwelve

Chad

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