Loving a Bad Boy (Bad Boys Western Romance Book 4)

by Susan Arden

  He pressed his thumb to her clit expertly, just how she needed him, and she started to splinter.

  “Ride me.” His voice wafted outward, a low rasp. “Like this, and then on my cock. I’m going to fuck you for hours. All night, Kincaid. And afterwards, you’ll never question if we’re right together.”

  Without mercy, he pumped his fingers into her, adding a twist that splintered the coil low in her belly. Jolts of tingling pleasure spread through her as she clutched his arms. Over and over, he thrust inside her as she felt the ground give way. Her sex wept, soaking his fingers, and he unhanded her abruptly.

  With a ravenous look bordering on primal, he pushed down his shorts, and recaptured her. Lifting her leg higher, he hooked her calf around his hip, swiping his crown slippery against her wet skin. They were going to make love. Right here. She wanted it. Wanted him. More than anything.

  Digging her fingers into his muscular shoulders, she ground down on his cock nudging her entrance, so ready to implode from his touch. “Please,” she begged breathlessly.

  “I’m going to give you what you need.” Definitely on track in feeding her frenzy, Rory skimmed his finger along her skin, proving he wasn’t about to keep her tormented for much longer.

  Splaying apart her pussy, Rory pressed his crown against her opening. Without warning, her hazy afterglow was shadowed by pain. He gripped her, working his hips in short, hard thrusts and she closed her eyes, willing herself to let him in.

  Waves of bliss that had washed over her, no longer distanced her confusion to all that threaded her mind. If they made love tonight, how would Rory ever trust her in the future? From bliss, her world crashed, wrecking her, and if she didn’t stop right now, she’d drown.

  Her dreams would splinter.

  Their love would die.

  “I can’t,” she panted, her body clenching in need. Demanding. Aching to know what the heck she was doing. “Not like this. You were right. We should wait.”

  “Sommer,” he said her name in a low rumble, pressing his forehead against hers as his hard-on nudged her sex. They were so close and she felt his muscles constrict and his cock judder.

  She pushed her palms against him, moving her chest away from his—not all the way, but enough to lean back and stare up into his eyes. “Please don’t be angry with me.”

  He lifted his head, consuming her stare. His pupils were fully dilated and his nostrils flared. “Sugar, do you really want me to stop?”

  “No. But right now, yes. I know that doesn’t make sense. I’m not making sense.” Her body screamed yes, while her mind bullied her to stand strong.

  He removed his cock from between her legs. “All you have to say is no, and that’s enough.”

  His chiseled features could’ve been cast from stone except a vein pulsed in his neck. So rapidly, she couldn’t keep track of the vibrations.

  “I need to leave. Need to be alone.” She hated hurting him like this. They were so close to making love. She would’ve risked getting pregnant with his baby that’s how out of control she’d been. Her brain buzzed from unspent adrenaline, worse in seeing his blue eyes cloud.

  If she stayed, she’d lose him. Her only recourse was to leave and try to figure out a plan. Somehow, she had to come up with the money. Then she’d come clean and tell him, afterward.

  “Sugar, you’re not the type who aborts a scene without a reason. Tell me what’s going on. Talk to me, Sommer.”

  He towered over her and she raised her palms in front of herself, shaking her head vehemently. “I’m not running away—I’m refusing to give in. Please, I’m confused, and need to think. That’s all. My timing sucks. But that’s it. If you love me, let me go.”

  He stepped in her path when she tried to bolt. “Let me drive you home at least. I won’t say a word. Don’t leave alone and upset.”

  “I’m fine to drive.” Her eyes stung and her voice quavered. She glanced away from Rory, blinking back a river of tears. Overcome, she had to get out of the trailer. If she began to cry, he’d never let her go. That wasn’t his way. Feinting to one side, she ducked out of his grasp, and tore down the hall. Not easy running in heels.

  “Sommer, don’t leave!” Rory called out, his voice a heartrending reminder of who and what she left behind.

  She picked up her purse and dug inside for her keys. At the door, she stopped. Rory was so close that his breath caressed her shoulder. Her whole body trembled and she fought the overarching urge to face him, look him in the eyes. Not run away.

  Gripping the doorknob, she held back from turning around—afraid one look and she wouldn’t be able to leave. Closing her eyes, she whispered, “I’ll text you when I get home.”

  “Baby, you are home,” he replied in a gruff tone. Yet he exhaled as if in resignation. “Sommer, I won’t stop you from going. Just come back to me. Promise me that.”

  Rory surprised her that he hadn’t reached out, and for that she was grateful.

  “I promise,” she said, opening her eyes and the front door. Without waiting another second, she rushed outside into the night air, choking back a sob.

  “Sommer, let me walk you outside.”

  “Don’t!” She had to go. Had to get away. Racing down the front steps, she skirted over the uneven ground toward her car.

  She sucked in a breath then another as the tears began to swell only to fall down her cheeks. A river that refused to lessen as she climbed into her car, and gunned the engine. The abysmal punch to her gut came, when she turned her car onto the road and saw Rory standing beside his truck. His head bowed slightly and he didn’t move. Everything in her screamed to return to him. Not to leave like this, and it was then that her grief spun out of control.

  The dam burst.

  Sobbing, she shifted her car into first, and floored the gas. Sommer shifted into second and third, racing past his parents’ home, and the barns, the outbuildings, and finally under the Evermore Ranch sign. As she drove away, she’d left her heart behind and prayed that Rory somehow understood what she’d done wasn’t meant to hurt him.

  Chapter 23

  Watching Sommer drive away, Rory swore and turned around. Slamming his hands on the hood of his truck, he took several deep breaths. His heart battered fiercely like a beast ready to claw its way out of his chest. The score he had to settle couldn’t wait. He’d be damned if he’d sit around while Mike was fucking over Sommer’s father, and in turn entangling her in this mess.

  Adrenaline dumped into his system, and he sucked in gulps of air as if oxygen were at a premium. Shit, he was going to lose it. How many times had he been warned not to do something when enraged? A lifetime. Envisioning Sommer’s sad amber eyes darkening in pain had him clenching his jaw. The image of her face filled his imagination, and was almost too much to bear.

  “Fuck!” he hollered. Alone out here, standing under a million glittering stars, and watching her leave felt altogether wrong.

  He’d made a mistake and shouldn’t have pushed her so hard. That was his MO—being forceful and hardheaded. Aware of how upset Sommer was when she left, he wasn’t about to wait around. He had to go to her, make her understand that he was here for her. Only her. Help her through this jam without making her suffering worse.

  Striding back inside, he confronted the quilt and their untouched picnic. Rage twisted his insides. I swear to fucking God I’ll find that motherfucker! Red consumed him as he knelt and scooped up the things Sommer had brought. Infuriated, it cost the last thread of his restraint to calm down enough to stow the food in the refrigerator. Then all hell let loose. He stormed to his bedroom. Opening his closet, he trained his focus on his knife. Hours before he’d tossed it on the shelf without a worry in the world. Grabbing it, the weight all too familiar in his palm gave him something to hold onto besides blind fury.

  He wore the first pair of jeans and T-shirt he encountered. Fully dressed didn’t change the fact he wanted retribution. Yet he also couldn’t contain
his need to find Sommer. Twin hungers ravenously swam in his veins, tearing him apart. The only thread that kept him sane was finding Sommer. With his head barely screwed back in place, he picked up Sommer’s apron, and slammed the front door behind him. Loose rock and dirt crunched under his boots. Abruptly, a pair of headlights lit up the darkness and the beams swung behind his truck, blinding him. He held up his hand before his face, squinting to make out who the fuck had effectively curtailed him leaving.

  The lights cut. Recognizing the truck, he hollered, “Matt, move. I’m fixing to hit the road.” Not one truck door opened but two. Rory faced the pair of silhouettes walking collectively toward him.

  “Wash the war paint off your face,” Matt said accompanied by Brandon.

  “Don’t you two have lives besides riding my ass?” he snarled.

  “Not until this is settled, we don’t,” Brandon quipped. “We aren’t getting Stephen involved because he has the tendency to act alone. So don’t mention anything to him until we get a handle on this.”

  “Sommer left. Upset. And I’ve got to find her.”

  Brandon crossed his arms over his chest, a sign that this wasn’t the end of this discussion. “I saw her leave as Mia and I were coming back from Mom and Dad’s.”

  “Did you two fight?” Matt asked.

  Glancing between his brothers, he shot back, “How much do you know?”

  Matt’s brows rose but he didn’t fly off the handle. His brother’s gaze drilled into him in that way that ticked him off but also connected them. “Enough to be concerned that you’re going to do something you’ll regret, where Mike is concerned. No argument he’s a low life cocksucker, but he isn’t some hillbilly swindler.”

  “He’s gonna be sorry he started anything with Sommer.” If Rory showed any countermoves that suggested he was out of control, his two older brothers would hog-tie him, rather than let him leave and get into trouble. That’s what he should’ve done to Sommer. His mistake. Next time… Fuck him flying! There wouldn’t be a next time ‘cause he wouldn’t let her go.

  “That jackass can talk the legs off a chair. I’ll give him that, but like Brandon explained to me, he’s got a partner. Not the kind from around here. Rory, when I spent four years in New York going to college, I met all sorts of people. There are certain types you don’t fuck with. They don’t go down and disappear. Someone comes back to take their place. And what’s happening to Sommer and her family can happen to a whole lot of people here. We can’t take on that type of storm and win without staying cool.”

  “Speak for yourself. I’m not about to let this shit continue. Not when Sommer’s involved!”

  “You need to be clear on what’s going down. This isn’t just about us or Sommer. I’m talking about Annona.” Matt pushed up the brim on his hat. “We’ll deal with this situation, but we can’t—we won’t shoot from the hip.”

  Brandon cursed under his breath as he scratched a spot behind his ear, looking like he’d blow a gasket in the next five seconds. “Rory, we talked about it with Miller. He’s on track and will find out who the hell Mike really is and who he’s involved with. Only after we know that can we make provisions on what to do and who to reach out to. According to Miller, there are a couple of routes to take. We’ll know more tomorrow.”

  “I’m not holing up here while Sommer’s out there.” He stabbed the air in the direction of the road.

  Brandon frowned, shaking his head. His older brother and he had discussed their women issues before. He took a step closer, shooting a worried gaze his way. “What do you aim on doing? And don’t try and shit us.”

  Rory stared back at his brother. It was as if his insides had turned to concrete. There was no changing his mind on where he was headed. “Going to her. Staying outside her house. All night, if that’s what it takes.”

  Matt traded a glance with Brandon. “Don’t suspect you want any company?”

  He stepped closer to his brothers. “I appreciate what you’ve done and what you’re doing, but no. I’ll be back by tomorrow morning and ready to do whatever Miller suggests, but right now, I’m out of here.”

  “He seems in his right mind.” Matt turned to Brandon. “What do you say?”

  Brandon shifted his gaze between Rory and Matt. “If it were one of us, think anyone could keep either of us from our woman?”

  “Just what I was thinkin.’” Matt agreed. “’cept for his blade.”

  “Excuse me?” he scoffed.

  Brandon pointed. “Before you take off, we’ll need that knife of yours.”

  “Naw, you can’t be serious.” The breath froze in his lungs.

  “Am. You’ll gut the man who crosses that girl. Everyone in town knows it. We’ll deal with this as brothers. That’s our best offer.” Brandon faced him with an unflinching expression.

  He unclipped his knife and held it out. “I gave you my word.”

  “Haven’t you learned? When it comes to a woman, you’ll lie, cheat, steal. Even kill,” Matt rasped. “You’re a McLemore. Can’t help it.”

  It wasn’t like he couldn’t deal with those fuckers without a weapon, but he got their point. “Guess you’re right.”

  Brandon nodded. “But you call if anything and I do mean anything, gives you cause for concern. You hear me?”

  His brothers regarded him. Both were hardcore to the bone, and he wasn’t free of them yet. They needed some assurances that he wasn’t about to do something stupid.

  “I’ll be in touch, unless my cell is confiscated as well.”

  “Take it easy.” Brandon whistled low.

  Rory dug into his front pocket for his keys. “Now, instead of standing there, staring a hole through me, mind putting that truck of yours in reverse.”

  His brothers boxed him on the shoulder before they wordlessly climbed into Matt’s truck. They drove off, back to their homes and their women. He followed suit. Flooring the gas, he sent gravel flying as his tires spun. Tearing off down the road, he headed onto the interstate and was over past Old Towne in less than twenty minutes.

  For a couple of blocks, a police cruiser tailed him, but stopped and did a U-turn in one of the intersections, lights swirling and siren blaring. At night this section of town, which had once boasted of nice middle class houses, was becoming more desolate with each foreclosure. Less well-cared for as the sales signs took up residence in the front yards of numerous unoccupied houses. His brothers were right about this being a community issue, with people moving away in droves. Up ahead was Sommer’s street, and as he turned, he went past a house with all the windows boarded up after the glass had been shattered. On spots along the outside walls were splotches of color, graffiti art along with initials and symbols, tagged with black spray paint. A man was on the porch, and Rory couldn’t tell if he lived there or was squatting. No lights were on, and the man sat on the porch swing, motionless.

  Rory drove on past and stopped in front of Sommer’s house. He pulled up to the curb and breathed out a sigh of relief, seeing that she’d made it home. Her car sat parked in the driveway, along with another—her aunt’s, and lights glowed from the windows.

  Inside the white picket fence was a profusion of color, out of place considering the state of the homes on either side. Her mother’s rose garden was in full bloom with different shades of red or pink or varieties of roses. Not much of a lawn left with the arbors and narrow paths treading between the rose bushes. Over the years, he had helped Mrs. Kincaid on occasion by doing the trimming and mulching. He’d also built and staked the arbors in return for spending time with Sommer.

  To think that Mike had reached out to Sommer had Rory gripping the steering wheel, raring to go and find that cocksucker.

  That’s not what Sommer needs right now. Only that single idea kept him sane. He sat in his truck, parked at the curb, and watched the house for movement. Hard to see through the hazy film of curtains hanging in the windows, but enough to observe a shadow approach the front
window, draw the curtain, and then wave. Long blond hair reflected the interior lights, but veiled Sommer’s beautiful face. His heart pumped harder in his chest, needing to connect with her, face-to-face, if not closer. He climbed out of his truck, and by the time he came around the hood, Sommer was coming down the walkway toward the front gate.

  They both reached the gate at the same time. He couldn’t be bothered to deal with the gate’s latch, and he reached over, hauling her up and into his arms. “I can’t let you go for more than a few minutes, Sommer. You know that.”

  He carried her to his truck, opened the passenger side, and placed her on the seat. Groaning her name, he pushed her legs open and brought her as close as humanly possible to him, drinking in her scent. He scraped his cheek against hers, curling his fingers under her chin, turning her mouth to him.

  Against his lips, she murmured, “I can’t leave, I’m on parent duty.”

  “That’s fine. But I’m not leaving you either.”

  “Rory, you can’t say out here all night.” She caressed his face with her delicate touch and he pressed closer.

  “Why not?” he asked, searching her eyes for signs that she was scared. For some proof that she needed his help. “I don’t want you to be alone. Not tonight.”

  “I’m not going to fall apart.” She pinned him with a resolute look that filled her golden eyes. Unblinking, she regarded him calmly and stopped his mental tirade.

  “Never known you to be the type to fall apart. But that doesn’t mean you should have to bear problems alone.”

  “Doesn’t seem like it, babe. You’re here and I’m glad, so very glad. Cowboy, if I admit that driving away from you almost did me in tonight, would you please not use that against me?” She flashed him a sad smile that threaded unease, a twisting twinge deep in his chest.

  “Not if I can help it. Don’t be sad.” He leaned over and swung his arm around her, lifting the apron and holding it up to her chest. “Best apron ever. We’ll pick up where we left off.”