Page 49 of Higher Ground
“Hey, Emory.” Mya’s voice was soft and crackled through the patchy reception around the far side of the house. “What about Byron?”
Emory closed her eyes. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”
Chapter 24
Byron
Sneaking out of Clayton’s room after the boy was finally asleep, Byron had expected to find Emory curled up on the couch. Or still in the study, getting ready for her exams. But the house had been empty when he made his way down the hall. He’d even risked tiptoeing back down the hallway to check the den.
Byron felt worry creep along his spine when he couldn’t find her. It shouldn’t have been this hard, considering they were still surrounded by water in all directions. The bridge was still closed. She couldn’t have left, but she wasn’there. He froze in the kitchen, unsure of what to do next. His pulse throbbed at his temple as he got a glass of water to try to quell the growing dryness on his tongue. The window above the kitchen sink looked out over the far side of his yard, past the chicken coops and into the fields below. The water was barely halfway up the side of the hill now and was draining more and more every day. It looked still, but Byron knew floodwater could be unpredictable. If Emory had fallen in, there was every chance anundercurrent had swept her away. The thought clawed at Byron until he couldn’t breathe.
He’d call her. He didn’t need to panic until he knew he needed to panic. If she didn’t answer, then he could let the fear wash over him. But his pockets were empty, and his phone wasn’t in the little dish on the side of the bench. He couldn’t remember where he’d left it.
Movement out the back window caught his eye, and he spun back around to see Emory emerge from the smaller henhouse with a wheelbarrow full of mud. It swayed under her grip, but she directed it around the fence and tipped it over in the wide gap between the two coops.
His heart stopped pounding, and his ears began to ring as the adrenaline began to wear down. She was … cleaning the chicken coop. It was the very last place he ever would have imagined finding her. Emory was so far from being a country girl, he doubted she’d ever pushed a wheelbarrow around, let alone cleaned up after a flood. But there she was in gumboots and leggings that hugged her curves so perfectly. She’d rolled the sleeves of her grey zip-up hoodie up above her elbows and left the zip undone, revealing that same pink lace tank that had been engraved in Byron’s brain. Out of everything she wore, that was his favourite. The way the lace revealed her cleavage both tugged at his heart and had his balls drawing tight.
Emory stormed away with the now-empty wheelbarrow, off past the chicken coops. The only thing down that way was the hay shed. Byron watched her go, an unusual desire rolling through his bones. Emory looked good working on the farm. Nah, more than that. She looked downright fucking stunning with mud on her boots and her sweaty hair clinging to the back of her neck. He wanted to race after her and show her just how perfectly she fit in here, but something held him back.
He reached for the baby monitor on the bench and turned it on. Clayton was still sound asleep in his bed, and he’d probably stay that way for another hour. Byron swallowed down the hesitation and grabbed his boots from by the door.
It wasn’t Clayton that had held him back, it was the thought that no matter how much Emory could look the part here on the farm, it wasn’t what she’d ever wanted for herself. Tucker’s warning rang in his ears, but he ignored it. He wanted Emory, and she needed to know exactly how much.
She was trying to haul a bale of hay into the wheelbarrow when he caught up to her in the shed. To her credit, she’d grabbed the smallest bale of them all, but it still toppled over the wheelbarrow, too big to fit in the tub. From his spot by the door, Byron could see the small white headphones in her ears, and he hung back, appreciating the way she swung her hips to whatever boppy tune was playing.
He glanced down at the monitor in his hands, still in range and still showing a peacefully sleeping toddler. A little sigh of relief and anticipation escaped him as he dropped the small display screen onto the shelving unit.
Emory continued wrestling the hay bale, not noticing as he moved in behind her. When he slipped his arms around her waist, she gasped but sank into his touch. Byron removed her earbuds, tucking them into his jacket pocket. He nibbled the soft pad of skin below her ear.
“You look good,” he whispered.
She turned around, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling up onto her toes. “You always look good.”
Byron kissed Emory all slow and tender at first. A peck to her nose, another to the corner of her mouth, one up on her forehead. He wanted to take his time because for all he knew, this could be the last. The water was going down, and even though the burning attraction they shared was ever increasing,no flood meant life would go back to normal. Emory would leave. She’d find somewhere else to live. In town, maybe, or further away, most likely. He didn’t want to think about it, not yet. For now, he just wanted to experience her. All of her.
Crashing his lips against hers, he let temptation and desire take over. He gripped her cheek, tilting her head and coaxing her mouth open with his tongue. She obliged, moaning into his mouth and stepping into his embrace.
He guided them backwards, pulling her jacket off her shoulders first, then his own. Emory’s legs hit the low stack of hay bales against the wall of the shed, but Byron held her steady while he placed his jacket over the straw. Still holding her mouth with his own, Byron lifted Emory under her legs and dropped her onto his jacket. He leant over her as he lay her down, still giving everything in his kiss. Emory took it all, holding him close and pulling his lower lip into her mouth.
Byron’s bones ached with arousal. Heat spread between them until he couldn’t handle the suspense. He pressed into Emory, grinding his erection against her. There was too much between them, and it hurt. Byron kissed his way down her body, pulling one breast—lace tank and all—into his mouth. Reaching between them, he unbuttoned his jeans and then tugged at her leggings. Emory lifted her hips, and Byron dropped to his knees in front of her. He took his time pulling her pants to her ankles. She wriggled to kick them off, but he held her still.
“Keep them there,” he drawled. His voice had never been so deep and guttural, but the sound made Emory whimper, and that was enough for Byron.
He ducked under her legs, spreading her knees and wrapping her ankles around his head. If he had thought she was a sight earlier … he had no fucking idea what this was. Her pussy glistened, begging him closer. So much for taking his time.
Emory moaned when his mouth made contact with her clit. There was nothing gentle about the way he devoured her. He ran his tongue along her seam, then swirled it around the bundle of nerves. It made her squirm, and he enjoyed every fucking second of it. With her clit between his teeth, Byron pushed two fingers inside her. She stretched for him easily, already so wet and ready for more.
Pumping his fingers in and out of her, he curled them up to stroke her inner wall. Emory’s mouth dropped open with a breathy gasp. Her legs began to shudder around Byron’s shoulders, just the way he liked it. As her pleasure grew, Emory began to move her hips into Byron’s face. Her ankles held him close, even though he had no intention of going anywhere.
“Take what you need, Em,” he growled against her, never fully taking his mouth off her cunt.
And she did. She ground her hips against Byron’s face, forcing his fingers deeper. His teeth grazed against her clit as Emory’s release came hard. Her legs constricted around him, and her inner walls began to flutter around his fingers. He slowed his pace, pumping slowly and lapping her up until she finally stilled.
Byron reached below his waist, freeing his aching dick from his jeans. He stood, still trapped between her legs, and leant over Emory to run his length through her wetness. Fuck, it felt good. Fuck, it would be so easy to just slip right in and feel her, properly. He wanted to. Every bone in his body begged him to.
Pulling her up, Byron held Emory close as she caught her breath. He kissed her, moaning as she bit his lip and reached between them. Her fingers on his dick were like heaven. Almost. He could think of something even better, but he hadn’t thought this far ahead when he chased her out here.
Emory pumped his cock in her hand, directing him towards her cunt. One little thrust, that’s all it would take …
