by Maisey Yates
So, there was no magical, mystical connection to the Cooper family.
But Jackson was still a thing. And that needed to be sorted out before she could be the new Cricket. This woman who was going to make a way apart from her family. This woman she wanted desperately to be. Needed to be.
He was so tall and strong and beautiful. And she had no idea what he was getting out of this. But that wasn’t her concern. Her concern was…her.
It didn’t matter what anybody else thought. Didn’t matter what anybody else wanted from her, what they thought of her. It didn’t matter what he thought. She had been dragged into Cash Cooper’s very own tasting room, and she had accused him of cheating on his wife. Had asked if he was her father. She had reached the height of humiliation. So she was all in on this, because there was nothing left to protect or destroy.
She was Cricket, reduced.
And she wanted to build herself back up again.
“I’m tired of talking,” she said.
Talking wasn’t her thing. She had spent so many years just off on her own, daydreaming about the life she might have someday. She had done more talking with him over the last week than she had ever done with anyone, really. She didn’t want to talk. She just wanted him.
“Suit yourself.”
That was how she found herself being lifted off the ground, his large hand on her ass, around her back, as he picked her up and kissed her, hard and deep. She could feel his body, firm and insistent against hers, evidence of his arousal. And it thrilled her. Thrilled her down to her soul. To know that he wanted her the same as she wanted him. To know that, of all the mistakes she’d made, and all the things she might have done wrong today, she hadn’t dampened his desire for her.
He did want her.
He did.
His kiss was wild now, far beyond anything she’d ever fantasized about. She’d done a lot of fantasizing about Jackson Cooper, but it had been gauzy, and it hadn’t been half so physical. She hadn’t really known about the heat of another person’s body pressed against hers, the rough feeling of his whiskers, the firmness of his mouth. That slick friction of his tongue against hers. The way their breaths would mingle, the way she could feel his heart raging through his chest and against hers. Those rough hands, moving over the fabric of her T-shirt, and then under it, against her skin. His body was so very hard.
No, she hadn’t counted on this. The intensity of it. The reality of it. It was blindingly brilliant and beautiful, and was making her into a version of herself she hadn’t known was possible—a wild creature, which in many ways she’d always been, but with aim, with purpose.
Because her wildness was pouring out of her and over him. She didn’t feel embarrassed. Didn’t feel nervous.
There was no inhibition at all. She bit his bottom lip and he growled. And she didn’t know why she’d done it, only that it had felt right. And she didn’t question it. Didn’t question anything. This felt natural. This felt right in a way that nothing else ever had in her entire life. He felt right, fitted against her, the softness of her body seemingly made for the hardness of his, and she couldn’t recall a time when she had ever felt so…right. So real. So complete.
So certain that the things about her that were different were what made it all so good.
For all her life she’d felt like the lone misfit toy on an island of beauties, and now, she didn’t feel misfit at all.
No, she fit just right.
He carried her up the front steps, stumbled slightly on a board, then braced her hard against the door, and she gasped. His erection pressed firmly between her thighs, hitting her right where she was the neediest for him. At the place where she was desperate with longing.
He rocked against her, growling as he took the kiss deeper. She gasped, letting her head fall back, arching into him, rubbing her breasts against his chest, reveling in how sensitive she was.
She had been so ashamed, so embarrassed of her every desire for a great many years—to feel a total lack of that shame was a revelation she hadn’t known she’d been waiting for.
He pushed the door open, then propelled them both down the hall and toward his bedroom. Toward the little twin bed there.
She doubted he fit on it by himself, she had no idea how the two of them were going to fit. But her bed wasn’t any larger.
He didn’t seem concerned at all. Just like a loose board hadn’t caused him to make a false move, the bed size didn’t do it either.
With knowing, competent hands, he pulled her top off over her head, and with one deft motion took her bra with it.
She was standing there, totally topless in a pair of jeans, and mesmerized by the look of abject hunger in his eyes.
He wanted her. More than a little. He wanted her, and it was obvious.
And she, with all her slight curves and frizzy hair, felt desired. Felt beautiful.
She closed the space between them, pushing her hands beneath his shirt, loving the feel of his hard muscles, the rough hair that covered his hot skin. She’d never thought much about sex in general. Only sex with him. But he was far and beyond anything she’d ever fantasized about. Far and beyond anything she’d ever dreamed she might have.
She pushed his shirt up and over his head, revealing his body. So much more beautiful and perfect than she could have ever imagined. That broad chest, lean waist and perfectly defined muscles. He was all things masculine and glorious, and everything feminine within her bloomed with glee.
And suddenly, she wanted to cry. Because Cricket Maxfield never got what she wanted. Cricket Maxfield never got the best or the brightest. She had the leftovers of her family’s gene pool. She wasn’t brilliant or beautiful, particularly ambitious. She wasn’t the one the sun shined down on with favor.
But she had wanted Jackson Cooper for as long as she’d known what it meant to want, and she was getting him.
Whatever happened after this didn’t really matter.
Because this was the most perfect moment she’d ever felt. Ever experienced.
Oh, she’d tried to pretend that her feelings for him could be something other than this, but they couldn’t be. This was the connection. For her, this was what it was. What it always would be.
“What?” he asked.
“You are just stunning,” she said.
He laughed. Honest to God. A chuckle rumbling in his chest. And then she found herself caught up in those big, strong arms, her bare breasts brushing against his hot, rough skin.
“Well I’m glad you think so.”
She found herself being kissed again, and all the while his hands worked on getting rid of her jeans, her panties, socks and shoes.
Until she found herself stretched across the bed with his big body over the top of hers. She completely naked, he still in his jeans. The denim was rough between her thighs, the delicate skin there scraped by the raw material. And she could feel him, right there, so hard and insistent and…
She ached.
And he just kept on kissing her. And kissing her. He shifted slightly, putting one hand between her thighs, finding her slick and wet, each pass of his fingertips over that sensitized bundle of nerves creating a white, electric heat that nearly left her blinded.
She had never felt anything like this before. And yes, she’d put her own hand between her legs plenty of times, but it wasn’t like this. His skin was rough, and she had no control over how fast he worked, how slow. How much time he took. And when he pushed a finger inside of her before drawing her wetness back out over the source of her desire, she gasped. He did it again, and again, adding a second finger to the first, until she was sobbing. Until she was begging. For what, she didn’t even know.
She fumbled for the front of his pants, tried to get his jeans open.
He chuckled. Husky and knowing.
“Not yet,” he said. “I’m not done wi
th you.”
He dropped off the bed and she found herself being dragged to the edge of the mattress. Her thighs draped over his shoulders, the heart of her completely open to him.
“Jackson,” she said, her voice trembling.
She might be a virgin, but she wasn’t innocent. In that she fully knew all the things men and women did to each other. Her sisters had never been particularly shy about their sex lives, or their desires. And beyond that, she hadn’t kept herself sheltered in terms of what she watched or read.
But having a man right there, looking at her, with no way to hide herself, that was a different proposition altogether than simply knowing. And when his mouth touched her, she jumped back, only to find herself pinned firmly against his face, his strong arms wrapped around her thighs, holding her there.
She wiggled as he lapped at her, as he tasted her like she was a decadent dessert.
“Jackson,” she said, a feeling like flying building in her stomach, making her certain that she was no longer being held to the bed, but somewhere among the stars.
She couldn’t breathe.
She didn’t want to. She just wanted this. Forever.
Him. His hands. His strength. His mouth.
The pleasure she felt wove around all those things and created the magic tapestry that wrapped itself around her, cocooning her, making her feel safe even as she was brought to the edge of an intensity like she had never known before.
She rocked her hips in time with the motion, and when he pushed two fingers inside of her again, she broke apart. Her internal muscles squeezing around his fingers as he worked them in and out of her body. As he continued to tease her with the flat of his tongue.
She was left desperate and panting, begging for more.
“There’s more,” he said, his voice rough. “Don’t worry.”
He stood, and she watched transfixed as he undid his jeans, lowering the zipper slowly, the strong column of his arousal coming into view.
And he was… Well, much larger than she had imagined. Not that she had a great frame of reference. Or a very good idea of scale. But he was as beautiful as he was intimidating. And he was a lot of both.
Everything about his body was glorious. Strong and well defined and damn near miraculous.
And she didn’t have time to cling to her worry, because then he was positioning himself at the edge of the bed again, wrapping his arms around her thighs, this time lifting her hips up off the mattress as he positioned himself at the entrance of her body, and thrust home.
The pain nearly blinded her.
She cried out, hand scrabbling for purchase, but she couldn’t reach any part of him. And she wanted to hold on to him, wanted to dig her nails into his skin to keep herself from crawling out of her own.
His eyes widened, and for the first time, he looked truly at sea.
He adjusted their positions, bringing her legs around so that her feet were pointed toward the end of the bed, bringing himself onto the mattress the right way, still inside of her, but over her now, and she gripped his shoulders, squeezing her eyes shut tight.
“Cricket,” he growled.
“Don’t stop,” she begged. “It’s already done.”
“Cricket…”
“Just please don’t stop.” And then, she opened her eyes, grabbed his face and kissed him.
And that seemed to work.
She could feel his control begin to unravel as he started to move slowly at first, gently even, until the pain began to recede. Until it was replaced with a full, complicated pleasure that made her want to cry as well as scream with desire.
She began to move her hips in time with his, as they found a rhythm that pleased them both. As they found each other.
And then, he took control, his movements no longer measured, his skin slapping against hers. The primal edge to their joining so much more than she had ever imagined it could be. So much better.
Desire built inside of her until she was trembling again, like she had done outside, like she had done after their kiss. He reached between their bodies, moved his fingers along the sides of where they joined, then back upward, pinching her gently as he thrust in, and light—bright and brilliant—flashed behind her eyes, pleasure breaking over her like a wave.
It was unlike any reality she’d ever known. Deep and unending as she pulsed around him. And he thrust inside of her, once, twice more, and on a growl gave himself up to his own pleasure.
She felt rocked. Stunned. The aftershocks of everything that had just happened continuing to move through her, little tremors of need that caused her to cling to him with each passing ripple.
“Well,” he said. “You should’ve told me.”
“Oh, about being a virgin?”
“Hell yes,” he said.
“I figured that was pretty evident.”
“Not evident enough, Cricket,” he said.
“Well. It wasn’t really any of your business.”
“It was exactly my business.”
“I didn’t want it to be. I just wanted it for me. Please don’t ruin it by lecturing me or scolding me or yelling at me, because I just don’t care about your opinion, okay? It was good.” She let herself fall backward onto the bed, her head resting against the pillow. “It was good, and that’s all I care about.”
“Cricket… I shouldn’t stay.”
“Why?” She scrambled into a seated position, leaving herself completely uncovered. She didn’t know why she was so at ease being naked in front of him. It felt right though. Natural. In a way that being clothed in many other situations never had. She felt… Well, she felt essentially Cricket. Like the baseline nature of who she was was completely and totally reinforced by this. Like the essence that made her her, that had always felt wrong and out of place, suddenly fit. In this house, in this bed. With this man. And, she didn’t see any point in feeling regretful or shy. In apologizing to him for the fact that she’d been a virgin.
Really, if it didn’t bother her, it shouldn’t bother him.
“Because there are things you don’t know about why I agreed to come and work here.”
“You lost a bet, cowboy. Seems pretty straightforward to me. Though, the bet had nothing to do with this, so don’t go and try to cheapen it now.”
“I’m not going to,” he said, his eyes level. “Cricket, why do you think I bet myself as your ranch hand?”
“You thought you were going to win.”
“No. I thought I was going to lose. I knew I was going to lose. Your level of bravado was not that of a woman who had an iffy hand.”
“How…” She felt utterly aghast. “How can that be?”
“It just is, sweetheart. I knew for a fact that you were going to win, and I agreed to these terms because I wanted to be here. Because I wanted to… I wanted to show you that you didn’t have the chops to be a rancher.”
“You what?”
“I wanted to talk you out of it. Because I wanted to buy this place.”
She frowned. “You… You were tricking me?”
“Yes. Though, in fairness, I never lied to you, not once. I never lied about how much work it takes to run a place like this. Everything I said to you was the absolute truth. The morning wake-up time was real. The amount of work and money and time that is going to be needed for this place is all real. And nothing I said to you was off base there. But I certainly didn’t do anything to encourage you. Not really. Because what I wanted was for you to give up and throw in the towel, and for me to be there ready to buy you out.”
“Jackson…”
“Yeah. And now I feel like an ass. Because I didn’t know that all this was going on. That you thought we might be related. And I…”
“So wait a minute, were you going to…seduce me to try to get the ranch away from me?”
“No.”
/>
“Just please tell me this was real. If nothing else, Jackson, just tell me this was real.”
“It was real. But that doesn’t mean it can be anything but tonight.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s a disaster. Because I’m not the kind of man who can give you what you want. You’ve already been hurt by too many people in your life, Cricket, and I don’t want to be another one.”
“Well, too bad. Because this is hurtful.”
“I’m sorry about that. I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“No. You just wanted to crush my dreams and make me think that I wasn’t up to them, and then buy my dream piece of property out from under me. Jackson, you did want to hurt me. It was just that you didn’t know me, so you didn’t particularly care. And if you feel guilty now, it’s only because you’ve seen what a pathetic human being I am, and I was a virgin on top of it.”
“I don’t pity you.”
“Then what is it?”
“Having seen you naked, having been inside of you, I can’t take advantage of you. Okay? Because yeah, I can stand here and justify my actions, and say that I didn’t lie to you like that makes it all okay, but I know it’s not, Cricket. I know it was a shady thing to do. And the fact of the matter is, I could ignore what a shady thing it was when I wasn’t personally involved with you, but after tonight I think it’s pretty safe to say that personal involvement has happened. From dragging you in front of my dad to getting into bed with you.”
“Well, then how can you stand there and say it can’t be anything else? If we are already personally involved…”
“It’s a mess.”
“Oh, no argument here. Believe me. I’ve been pretty much mired in the mess this whole time.” She let out an exasperated sigh. “Don’t you know that I have had a crush on you the size of the Willamette River for… I don’t know, years? So finding out that you were possibly my brother was about the worst thing I could think of. Do you have any idea what it’s like to spend years lusting after somebody, and then find that you might share a dad? It was horrifying. I’m sorry, but I needed to know, and then once I did know… I needed to be with you. Because I felt so wrong, in so many ways, for so many years—I think this had to happen for me to…get over it. To start feeling some things that are…a little bit more normal. Like, believe me, none of this was how I saw…the hookup between us going. But that whole trying to get my ranch thing… That was pretty awful. And, you know, not something I thought you would do.”
