by Kaylee Ryan
“What’s all that?” she asks as I meet her in the kitchen.
“Just in case.” I place a kiss on her lips. “We’re going to take my truck.”
“You have a truck?”
“I’m a country boy. Of course, I have a truck.”
“Country boy? You’re in a suit and tie on the daily, Riggins.”
“That’s work me, and I was raised loving the outdoors. You can’t live in Tennessee and not have some country boy running through your veins.” I snag my arm around her waist. “Just another layer, baby.” She grins, and I would do anything to keep that smile on her face.
“Show me the beast,” she says, pulling out of my arms.
“What makes you think it’s a beast?”
“You don’t do anything halfway, Royce Riggins.”
“Nope.” She’s right. “Come on.” With her hand locked in mine, I lead her out of the house to the attached garage, out the side door, and to the external garage. My truck is a long bed and doesn’t fit in the house garage. Not to mention my car and SUV are parked there.
“Not as bad as I thought,” Sawyer says when I open the back door of my truck, tossing the sweatshirt and blanket inside.
I chuckle. “I’m glad that you approve. Let me help you up.” I open the passenger door for her, and before she can protest, I have my hands on her hips, lifting her into the truck. “Buckle up, baby.”
As soon as I’m behind the wheel and we’re on the road, I reach over, take her hand, and lace my fingers with hers. I’m inwardly cursing that I didn’t buy a bench seat. Regardless, my hands are on her, and that’s enough to calm the raging storm that was coursing through me earlier tonight.
“You sure this is okay?” she asks when I park next to Grant’s truck at the lake.
“Yes.”
“What are they going to think? I mean, if they ask me, what do I say? About us?”
The cab of the truck is dark. Nothing but the light of the fire behind us offering a dim glow. Turning in my seat, I place my palm against her cheek. “You tell them that it’s none of their business. You tell them that you’re mine.”
“Am I yours?”
“Yes.”
“Royce, there are so many things—” she starts, but I lean in a little closer and press my lips to her to stop her.
“We’ll figure it out. I want you to be mine, Sawyer.”
“Does that mean you’re mine?” she counters.
That twisting feeling is back; only this time, it’s my heart that feels constricted at her question. “Yeah, baby. I’m all yours,” I assure her with another kiss to her lips. “Now, let me show you what it’s like when you get all five Riggins brothers together for a bonfire and a few beers.”
“How are they getting home?”
“They’ll stay at Mom and Dad’s, or Owen will drive them home.”
“He doesn’t drink?”
“Very rarely. He likes control, and he can’t have that when he drinks.” I watch her closely, waiting for more questions.
“They’re going to come knocking,” she says.
“You know them too well.” One more kiss and I reach for the door. “I’ll come get you down.”
“I can manage.”
“Don’t care. I want my hands on you.” I give her a look that tells her to stay put and hop out of the truck.
She listens, and with my hands on her waist, I lift her from the truck. I don’t set her on her feet until I’ve kissed her sweet lips once more. Hand in hand, we make our way to the back of the truck, and over to the bonfire my brothers are sitting around.
Chapter 17
Sawyer
Four sets of eyes turn to look at us, and I grip Royce’s hand tighter. I should be doing the opposite, letting him go under their stare, but I don’t want to lose my connection to him.
“’Bout time you got here,” Marshall calls out.
“Wow, this is not what I expected.” My eyes widen in surprise.
Royce stops and gives me his full attention. “We can go,” he says softly, just for me.
“No, that’s not what I meant. You said bonfire, and I imagined a big fire in the middle of a field.”
“That’s what this is.”
“No, this is stunning. An actual stone fire pit, Adirondack chairs, pebbled rock all the way around, picnic tables, this is more… fancy than I pictured.”
He smiles down at me, pushing my hair out of my eyes. “That’s all Mom. She comes down here sometimes. A few years ago, we decided to have a fire after several days of rain, and it was a muddy mess, Mom got on the phone the next day, and this was the result. We can come here no matter if it’s muddy and not be slopping around in it. Of course, there’s the walk from the truck, but we can all back in and get close enough that it’s just a few steps.
“It’s amazing.”
“Thank you,” he replies, softly pressing a kiss to my forehead. Whistles and catcalls fill the night air, and I’m glad for the dark of night so they can’t see my blush. “You did that in front of your brothers,” I whisper, mortified.
“I’m not hiding you, hiding us from them. We’re in this, right?”
I stare up at him, and there is no way I can deny him, not when my mind, my body, and my heart are all screaming yes. I nod, unable to speak over the lump in my throat. I don’t know what this means for my job, but right now, with his arm over my shoulders as we walk closer to the fire, I can’t seem to find it in me to care.
“Sawyer, you can sit with me.” Conrad pats his lap, and Royce growls, causing a chorus of laughter to fill the night.
Royce leads us to an empty chair. He sits and pulls me down onto his lap.
“This is new,” Owen comments.
“This is official,” Royce replies.
Marshall whistles. “That’s big, brother.”
Grant holds his bottle of beer up in salute before taking a big swig. “Good to see you pulled your head out of your ass,” he says, his eyes locked on Royce.
I can feel Royce nod from behind me. His arms wrap around my waist as he pulls me closer. With the slant of the chair, it leaves me leaning against his chest. “Mom and Dad coming?” Royce asks, continuing to hold me like this in front of his brothers like it’s no big deal.
“Nah, Mom said they were calling it an early night,” Owen tells him.
“Ack,” Marshall says like he has a bad taste in his mouth. “We all know what that means,” he says with a sour look on his face.
“Hey, just you wait. When you’re their age, you’re going to only hope that you have their—” Grants stops there. “Yeah, never mind.” He shudders.
“How in the hell do you think we all got here?” Owen asks with a laugh.
“No. No, no.” Conrad holds his hand up. “We’re not going there.”
“Con,” Owen says.
Conrad turns to look at him. “Our parents have sex, and by the fact that the five of us are sitting here tonight, they have a lot of sex,” he says with a straight face, but the white of his teeth is showing from behind his beard.
“Ah, man, you had to go there.” Conrad stands up, tosses his empty beer bottle into a tote, and grabs a new one from the cooler.
“Good for Dad,” Royce says.
“Not you too,” Marshall grumbles, and I can’t help the giggle that escapes me.
“Laugh it up, Sawyer,” Grant tells me. “Don’t think your parents don’t still do the deed.” He smirks.
“Fuck,” Royce hisses.
“I lost my parents a few years ago,” I tell the four sets of eyes watching me, aware the mood suddenly shifts. “You might not want to think about them doing… that, but I promise you you’ll miss even these conversations when they’re gone.” My intention isn’t to put a downer on the evening, but my words are honest.
“Fuck, sis.” Owen stands, and before I know what’s happening, I’m pulled to my feet even with Royce’s protest, and Owen wraps me in a hug.
Hot tears prick my eye
s at his comfort. All too soon, he’s pulling away, and I’m thrust into the arms of yet another Riggins brother. Grant passes me to Marshall, who passes me to Conrad, and finally there waiting for me is Royce. The five of them passed me around to hug after hug, and some of the shattered pieces of my heart from the loss of my parents piece themselves back together. They’ve opened their arms and their family to me. I wish I could find the words to tell them what that means to me. What they mean to me.
“Let’s take a walk.” With his arm around me, we walk away from his brothers. “I’m sorry, Sawyer.”
“Why are you apologizing? They didn’t know. They didn’t offend me. It’s just hard to talk about sometimes, but your brothers… they’re amazing.”
“I just hate the thought of you in pain. I hate I wasn’t there for you.”
“You didn’t even know me then.”
“I didn’t say it made sense,” he says, pulling me in close and pressing his lips to my temple.
“Where are we going?” I ask as we get further away from the fire, and the voices of his brothers.
“I just wanted some time with you.”
“Are we going to get eaten by a wolf?” I ask when I hear howling off in the distance.
“Not a wolf, probably a coyote, and no, you’re safe with me.”
“What about bears? There are bears in Tennessee, right?” I ask, my eyes scanning our surroundings, but with nothing but the moonlight to offer me assistance, I don’t see a thing.
“Yes, there are bears, but we’ve only seen them a few times on our property. I think we make too much noise for their liking.”
“We should go back,” I say, already worried.
“We’re here,” he says, holding me close, not letting me slip away from him and run back to the fire.
“Where’s here?” I ask, looking up at him.
“Here.” He points out in front of us, and I gasp at the beauty of it. There’s a long dock that leads to what appears to be a gazebo floating in the middle of the water. There are strings of lights all around lighting the gazebo.
“Is it floating?”
“Nah, appears that way, though. That’s how Dad planned it. It’s kind of like an island, I guess. More of a peninsula.”
“Wow.”
“Come on.” He drops his arm from my shoulders and laces our fingers together as we walk toward the gazebo.
“How are these lights working?” I ask, and then immediately apologize. “I’m sorry. I’m asking so many questions.”
“Don’t apologize. I’m glad. This place means a lot to me and my family. There’s a small solar panel on the top of the gazebo that powers the lights.”
“That’s so cool.” My eyes take in the beauty of the lights softly shimmering off the lake, and the peacefulness of the water. It’s breathtaking.
“I agree,” he says, pulling me into his chest. “Dance with me.”
“What?” I laugh. “There’s no music.”
“We don’t need it. Just our bodies aligned, and we can make our own music,” he says, surprising me but dipping me over his arm, placing a kiss on my lips. Sweet Royce has my heart pounding in my chest, and I know that tonight, this moment is one I will never forget.
“Oh, playful Royce,” I say, laughing as he lifts me upright.
“Your Royce,” he murmurs, his lips molding with mine.
My hands slide around his neck and I stand on my tiptoes to reach him, but he saves me the trouble when he lifts me in the air, and I wrap myself around him like a monkey. “So much better,” I say, placing a kiss on his neck.
“I’m not willing to leave this to chance, this connection we have. I know that talking is going to kill the mood, but my marriage ended because she hid truths from me, truths that would have prevented our nuptials altogether. I want us to always be open and honest with one another.”
“I’m listening,” I say, lifting my head. His mouth is so close to mine. I crave his lips on mine, but I know this is important to him.
“I don’t share, Sawyer. When I say you’re mine, and I’m yours, I mean that with all that I am. I know there are a lot of uncertainties, and you’re worried about the fact that you work for me, but we can figure that all out as we go. I’m committed to this, to you, whatever that might be.”
“We’re us,” I murmur, fighting back the tears that are welling in my eyes. Sweet Royce is almost too much for my poor heart to handle. His words cause my body to ache for his, while my heart swells in my chest.
“We’re us,” he agrees. His lips press softly to mine as he sways slightly with me still in his arms. His hands grip my ass, and my hands are buried in his hair. The kiss is slow, sensual, with nothing but the sounds of the night surrounding us. Gentle and slow, his lips tease mine. Stroke after stroke of his tongue against my own, and I’m on fire for him.
“I want you,” he murmurs, peppering kisses across my cheek and down my neck.
I tilt my head back, giving him more access. “Y-You have me,” I tell him, chills racing down my spine as his lips connect with my collarbone.
“Not here. Not the first time.”
“You love this place.”
He nods. “You deserve better.”
“No. I deserve the best of us. We get to decide what that looks like.”
“Tell me what you want, Sawyer.”
“I want this ache that you’ve caused to go away. It’s been there since the day we met.”
“We need to go,” he says, turning, but my words stop him.
“What do you want, Royce?”
“I want this ache that you’ve caused to go away.” He pulls me down against his hard length, and I can’t help but wiggle my hips. “It’s been there since the day we met.”
I look down at the hardwood of the gazebo. “Too bad we don’t have that blanket,” I muse.
“Wait.” He carries me to the built-in bench and sets me there. He walks to the other side and lifts the bench seat. “I’ve never used these, so I forgot they were here. Mom likes to have blankets out here for the chilly nights. She had Dad install the waterproof box so they would stay safe from the elements and the critters.” He pulls out a thick quilt and grins. “Don’t worry, she washes them frequently.” He shrugs before laying it out on the floor of the gazebo. He then reaches in and pulls out another blanket.
“I don’t think we need that. It’s still pretty warm.”
“Yeah, but I’m not risking us getting caught and someone seeing you.”
“Will we? Get caught, I mean?”
“No. There is no one out here but my brothers, and it would need to be an emergency before they would come after us, and they’d call first.”
“You sure?”
“Positive. I wouldn’t risk you like that.” He holds his hand out for me, and I go to him without a second thought. “You sure?” he asks.
I don’t reply. Instead, I reach for the hem of his shirt and push up until I’ve pulled it over his head and drop it to the wood floor beneath us. Dropping to my knees, I work at the button of his shorts and pull them down his legs. He toes off his shoes and kicks his shorts to the side.
“You’re wearing too many clothes, babe.” He gives me a tender smile that I feel all the way to my soul.
I lift my arms in the air, giving him the invitation to undress me. He takes his time, letting his fingers trail over my sides before he has my tank off, and he’s tossing it to the pile of clothes. He leads me to the bench and places his hands under my arms, lifting me so that I’m standing before him.
“Much better,” he murmurs. His fingers deftly unbutton my shorts, and with a gentle tug, they fall around my ankles. “Hands on my shoulders.” I do as he asks. “Lift.” He taps first my left leg, then my right as he removes my flip-flops and my shorts. “Fucking perfect,” he says, leaning in and kissing me through my panties. His hands are everywhere, my thighs, my hips, the small of my back. He cups each of my breasts that are still covered with my black lace bra, t
esting their weight in the palm of his hands.
“Royce,” I breathe his name.
His hands slide around my back, and he unhooks my bra. Slowly, painfully so, he slides the strap over each shoulder before pulling away from my body. “Jesus,” he whispers, just as his mouth captures one hard nipple while his hand seduces the other.
“Royce.” All I can do is say his name, well, unless you count the grip my hands have on his hair holding him to me. His mouth… it’s magical.
His lips trail over my stomach, and my body quivers at the contact. “You cold, baby?” he asks, not bothering to stop the pursuit of his lips and tongue against my skin.
“Y-You know I’m not.”
“These are sexy as fuck,” he says when he reaches my panties.
“They’d look better on the pile of clothes over there.” I nod in the direction I think our clothes are. I don’t really know and don’t care at the moment. I just need to feel all of him against all of me.
“I think I’ll keep these,” he says, sliding his index fingers under the waistband of my panties and tugging them over my thighs and down my legs.
I don’t wait for him to tell me to lift my legs. I kick them to the side and jump off the bench I’ve been standing on.
“I wasn’t done with you.”
“Get naked, Riggins,” I say, standing stark naked with my hands on my hips. I’ve never been this vocal with a man about what I want. However, with Royce, he makes me feel safe and protected.
“You’re so sexy.” He reaches for me, but I step out of his reach.
“Now. I need you naked now.”
He chuckles but makes quick work of removing his boxer briefs.
“Finally,” I mumble, settling on the quilt he has spread out for us. “You coming, Riggins? Or is this going to be a party for one?”
“Not a chance of that,” he says, bending to grab his wallet from his shorts. I watch as he pulls out a small foil packet, and then takes his spot next to me, pulling the second quilt over us. He props himself up on his elbow, letting his free hand roam over my body. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve imagined touching you.”
