Page 57 of Broken Roads
As the haze of pleasure begins to clear, I become aware of his body beneath mine, still impossibly hard. My hands drift down to his belt, fingers fumbling with the buckle, but he catches my wrists gently.
"What's wrong?" I manage.
He shakes his head slightly, one hand rising to cup my cheek. "Nothing's wrong. Everything about you is so fucking right it scares me." His thumb traces my lower lip, still sensitive from his kisses. "But this…it matters too much to rush."
The confession hits me square in the chest, somehow more intimate than his hands on my body.
"I want you," he continues, "Fuck, Hailey, I want you so badly I can barely think straight. But not like this. Not the first time." His eyes hold mine, sincere and burning with promise. "Not on a damp bench in the woods when you're still processing everything that happened tonight."
Part of me wants to argue, to tell him I know exactly what I'm doing. But the tenderness in his gaze stops the words in my throat.
"I've rushed a lot of things in my life," he says, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "Made decisions I regretted later. This—us—I don't want to regret a single moment. And more importantly, I don’t want you to."
A tremor runs through me that has nothing to do with the night chill and everything to do with the sincerity in his words. I drop my head onto his shoulder and tuck my face into the crook of his neck as I try to regain some semblance of control over my racing heart.
He wraps his arms around me, holding me against him as if I'm something precious.
"When we do this," he murmurs against my hair, "and we will do this, make no mistake, I want you fully present. Not distracted by me following you or any of the shit that happened tonight."
I nod against his neck, inhaling his scent, allowing it to ground me as my pulse gradually slows to something approaching normal. "When did you get so wise?" I ask, my voice muffled against his skin.
His chest rumbles with quiet laughter. "Don't confuse wisdom with selfishness, sunshine. I just want to make damn sure when I finally get you naked, you're thinking about nothing but me and what I'm doing to you."
His words send another jolt of heat through me, despite my body's gradual cooling. "That's a hell of a promise to make, cowboy."
Trapping my chin between his fingers, he tilts my face up until our eyes meet. "It's not a promise," he says, his gaze intense enough to steal my breath. "It's a fucking guarantee."
Then his lips are on mine again, softer this time, a gentle exploration rather than the desperate hunger of before. It's a kiss that feels like a beginning rather than an end, a promise of what's to come rather than a culmination.
When he pulls back, he traces my lower lip with his thumb, eyes following the movement with naked hunger. "Come on," he says. "Let's get you home before I change my mind about being a gentleman."
I shift in his lap, reluctant to break the connection between us despite the wisdom of his words. "And if I don't want a gentleman?"
The growl that rumbles through his chest sends a shiver down my spine. "Trust me, sunshine." He squeezes my hips one last time before gently lifting me off his lap. "When the time comes, you'll get exactly what you need. Gentleman or not."
As we stand and gather ourselves to head back to the ranch, his hand finds mine in the darkness, fingers intertwining with a surety that feels like coming home.
Chapter 24
Bradley
Sleep has become my enemy. Every time I close my eyes, my mind replays her on my lap, those little gasps she made when I touched her, the way she trembled against me when she came. I flip onto my stomach for the hundredth time, burying my face in the pillow to muffle a groan. Bandit huffs from the foot of the bed, clearly judging my restlessness with all the superiority a dog can muster.
"I know, I know," I mutter to him, earning another disgruntled snort as he rearranges himself, deliberately turning his back to me.
The sheets tangle around my waist as I roll over again, my body still humming with an energy that refuses to dissipate. My cock is half-hard just from the memory of Hailey grinding against me on that bench, and her mouth hot and eager against mine. Fucking hell, what was I thinking stopping us? Being a gentleman seemed like the right call at the time, but now, staring at the ceiling while my body aches for her, I'm questioning my sanity.
I glance at the clock. I've been tossing and turning for three hours, and sleep seems further away than ever. With a resigned sigh, I throw the covers back and swing my legs over the side of the bed. Bandit lifts his head, one ear cocked in question.
"Just getting water," I tell him. "Stay."
He doesn't need to be told twice, his head already dropping back down as I pull on a pair of pajama bottoms. I don't bother with a shirt; the house is warm enough, and I'm not expecting to run into anyone at this hour.
I'm halfway to the kitchen when I notice the soft glow spilling from the doorway. Someone else is awake. My first thought is Ruthie—she sometimes gets up for midnight baking sessions when she can't sleep—but there's no scent of butter or vanilla in the air, no sound of mixing bowls being arranged.
When I reach the doorway, I freeze, my breath catching in my throat. Hailey stands at the sink with her back to me, wearing nothing but a thin tank top and sleep shorts that barely cover the curve of her ass. Her hair is loose, falling in dark waves down her back.
My mouth goes dry at the sight of her, all soft curves and smooth skin. She hasn't noticed me yet, too focused on filling a glass with water from the tap. I watch the gentle rise and fall of her shoulders with each breath, the slight shift of her weight from one foot to the other.
