Page 55 of Broken Roads
The night air feels charged around us, every breath, every small movement magnified in importance. I've laid myself bare before her—my family wounds, my failed relationship, my growing feelings for her.
Now all I can do is wait.
And for the first time in longer than I can remember, I'm not afraid of what comes next.
Chapter 23
Hailey
The weight of Bradley's confession settles between us like the damp night air. He's just handed me every piece of himself—his family wounds, his past failures, his carefully guarded heart—and now he sits beside me, waiting. Vulnerable in a way I never expected from this stubborn, immovable rancher. The man who told me he wants more than friendship. The man who followed me to my AA meeting out of jealousy. The man whose dark eyes now search mine for any sign of what I'm feeling, while his body remains perfectly still, as if he’s afraid the slightest movement might shatter this fragile moment between us.
I should be angry. Should hold onto the betrayal of him following me, of seeing me in that vulnerable space without my consent. But something about his raw honesty, the way he's stripped himself bare before me, disarms my defenses one by one.
The sobriety token weighs heavy in my pocket, a reminder of all I've fought to rebuild. Of facing my demons without liquid courage. And now I'm facing something else entirely—thepossibility of letting someone see all of me, broken pieces and all.
His eyes never leave mine, patient yet hungry in a way that sends heat spiraling through my core. The flashlight between us casts shadows across his face, highlighting the strong line of his jaw, the fullness of his mouth. My fingers itch to discover if his stubble feels as rough as it looks.
"Say something," he murmurs, breaking the silence between us. "Anything."
Words have never been my strong suit. Not when it matters most. Actions, though, those I understand.
I stand suddenly. The movement catches him off guard, and his shoulders tense as if bracing for rejection. He thinks I'm leaving. The realization sends a surge of boldness through me, a desire to surprise this man who thinks he has me figured out.
Instead of turning away, I take the single step that brings me directly in front of him. His knees bump against mine, our bodies close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from him even through the cool night air. His confusion is evident in the slight furrow of his brow, the way his lips part to speak words that never come.
Before he can find his voice, before I can second-guess myself, I place one knee on the bench beside his thigh, then the other on his opposite side and settle onto his lap.
His sharp intake of breath is audible in the quiet night as his body goes rigid beneath mine. Those large, capable hands hover at my sides, but don’t touch.
"Hailey," he says, my name coming out strained. "What are you—"
"No more following me," I interrupt, my voice surprisingly steady despite the thundering of my heart. My fingers slide up the corded muscles of his neck, threading through the thickstrands of his hair. "Unless it's into the bathroom for my morning shower."
The groan that rumbles through his chest vibrates against me as his hands finally land on my thighs. The heat of his palms burn through my jeans while his fingers dig into the muscle with just enough pressure to make my breath catch.
"Was that an invitation?" The question comes out low and rough, his eyes dark enough to drown in as they lock with mine.
A smile tugs at my lips, confidence building with each passing second of his obvious desire. I shift slightly, pressing myself more firmly against him, and feel the unmistakable evidence of his desire. "If you have to ask," I whisper, leaning closer until our foreheads nearly touch, "I wasn't being clear enough."
Before he can respond, I close the final distance between us, pressing my lips to his.
The first touch is electric, a current running from my lips straight between my legs. His mouth is softer than expected, a contrast to the hard planes of his body. For a heartbeat, he remains motionless beneath me, as if stunned by my boldness. Then something inside him breaks free.
His hands slide from my thighs up to my waist, gripping me with a possessive strength that makes me gasp against his mouth. Taking advantage of my parted lips, he deepens the kiss with a hunger that matches the storm building inside me. His tongue slides against mine and I'm lost.
My fingers tighten in his hair, tugging just enough to earn another groan from deep in his chest. The sound ripples through me, igniting something primal and needy that I've kept carefully banked. I'd forgotten how intoxicating desire could be, how it could flood your system more effectively than any alcohol.
"Fuck, Hailey," he murmurs against my lips, pulling back just enough to look at me. "You have no idea how long I've wanted this."
My heart beats wildly against my ribs, the confession sending heat rushing to my cheeks despite our already intimate position. "Show me," I challenge, rolling my hips deliberately against his.
His eyes darken even further, his jaw tightening with restraint that looks physically painful. Then his hands are moving, sliding beneath the hem of my jacket, fingertips skimming the sliver of bare skin where my shirt has ridden up.
"Cold hands," I gasp, arching into his touch despite the chill.
His lips curve in a smile that's equal parts apology and wicked promise. "I'll warm them up," he says, his voice dropping low. "All over this gorgeous body."
His palms flatten against my lower back, drawing me closer until we're pressed chest to chest. I can feel his heart hammering against mine, his breathing as uneven as my own. One hand slides up my spine, fingers splaying wide between my shoulder blades while the other dips lower, tracing the waistband of my jeans with maddening slowness.
