by Lia Riley
“You’re so fucking sexy,” he ground out.
She rode him harder, the water splashing against him. He stared and she was glad. Her heart seemed like it was expanding, filling her chest, rattling her rib cage. His gaze couldn’t tear away from her, and she wasn’t sure if he’d blinked. Good, let him see what he did. Let him never think he wasn’t man enough.
Once she’d ridden on the swings at an amusement park and after the ride was over didn’t want to get off. The ride operator was too busy texting to notice so she stayed on for another go and then another. Until the world got a little lopsided, surreal as if somehow everything kept spinning in a mad orbit and she stood apart from that, observed, watched.
That’s how she was now, dizzy, seeing herself from a slight distance, watching her body filled with Wilder. Never had it been this way, these constant contractions.
“Be here.” He slammed into her. “Be here now, with me.” The ragged rhythm of his breath was punctuated by a rough huff. His hold on her tightened and he threw his back into it, pumping harder.
Every thrust broke against her barriers, the ones that said, “Don’t let him in. Don’t let him in.” Too late. Maybe it was a mistake but he was here. A cry of pleasure burst from her throat as his hold increased. A hot jolt shot through her body. God, she was close, right there and yet as much as she loved the anticipation, she wanted more, longer.
“Don’t let me come yet.”
“Why not?”
“Don’t want this to stop.”
His teeth grazed her earlobe. “Doesn’t have to.”
“What do you—oh. Oh God.”
He gripped her ass, keeping her grinding pressure right there, right at the edge.
“Trouble, you come for me now like a good girl and I’ll let you come again.”
“Again?”
“Fuck, honey. You know you can do this all night, right? You aren’t a guy.”
“I’ve heard that, but my body doesn’t work that way.”
“Wanna bet?” Two more thrusts and he had her right where he wanted, plunged into the fire, every nerve tingling. He fanned the flames of her desire, burning off her need to reveal the core, the looming power that rose up. Her thighs trembled as she clamped down, milking his shaft in powerful currents.
“That’s it. That’s it exactly.”
She shut her eyes and fell forward, wanting to rub her cheeks on his pectorals’ hard swell of muscle.
“Oh, we’re just getting started.” He shed all vestiges of gentleness, set a rhythm that was fast, almost brutal, but exactly what she wanted. “You like that, don’t you?” He smirked at her whimper because she did, she loved it.
“You don’t come once with me,” he said. “It’s too good watching you lose that pretty head.”
“I’ve never—”
“No past. No future, remember?” He pumped his hips harder. “Just you, feeling what I give you until I say you come again.”
“So bossy.” Her head lolled and it started to happen, impossibly, her body so spent with pleasure began to fill again, like a bucket in the well. The friction and his filthy words bringing her back as if she hadn’t just come her brains out.
“But this—if I—it might kill me.”
“Nah, I’m going to take you to heaven.” He grabbed her ass, bracing her in place as he rolled against her.
She studied the place where they were joined, the slick glide of their flesh, then turned toward his face where he stared back with an elusive smile and a heavily lidded gaze. Amazed that this brutal man possessed her and yet she didn’t feel threatened or frightened; if anything she was free.
He let out a grunt as she inwardly gasped. If she did this again, she might implode or explode, hard to know if coming with Wilder was a burst out, or an inward push.
“Quinn.” He was strong, big, and suddenly vulnerable here at the end, ragged in his need. “Are you with me? Are you with me, Quinn?”
And she was. Her body was responding, except this time, it was more—more intense, more powerful, more consuming, more everything.
“This still a mistake?” he gasped.
“The best.”
“Am I the best you’ve ever had?”
Had there been others? Of course there had, but they seemed like nothing now, far away and out of focus, a memory that she never lived but was only told about.
“Best ever.”
“Goddamn right.” His mouth slanted over hers, sucking in her gasp. There was a last flurry of thrusts and the world shrank away until all that was left was her blood pulsing in her ears and his hard body.
“Now, now, baby, please.”
It was the please that put her over, that pulled from her what she didn’t know she could offer. If the last orgasm cracked her in two, this one shattered her into pieces that would never fit back together. Everything she had thought and planned for these last few months was gone and there was only Wilder, holding her close as he pulsed against her, teeth set as if he were in pain, contrasting with the fierce triumph in his gaze.
The world began to return but she was anchored here, to his shaft still half thick and buried within her.
He rested his cheek against hers with a heavy sigh. “So this is what it feels like.” His tone was soft, reverent even.
“What it feels like?”
“Living.”
And as their hearts pounded against each other she grinned. “Yeah. I think so.”
“It’s good.”
“Perfect.” She glanced up and there beside the moon was a small star. At least she thought it was. Please don’t be a satellite. She wanted to make a wish. A simple wish really. All she wanted was for everything to work out. For her brain not to fall apart, for Dad not to run away again, and for Wilder to choose peace.
Let us have a shot, she wished. Please give us the chance.
Maybe it was a mistake to have hopes and dreams given everything she was up against, but this guy in her arms was worth the risk.
Chapter Fifteen
FOR THE NEXT week and a half, it seemed like Quinn had gotten her wish. Dad stayed calm and even smiled a few times while watching Ghostbusters. Wilder accompanied her on visits to Mountain View Village, sitting beside her in Dad’s room, holding her hand, barely watching the movie because all he did was stare at her.
It was good. Perfect really.
And if sometimes she woke in the night, fear squeezing her heart and uncertainty sucking away the room’s oxygen until she could barely breathe, with Wilder’s arm heavy over her waist and the pesky old idea “this is a mistake” ringing through her skull, it was gone by morning light.
Mostly.
So far her phone didn’t ring, at least not with a call from the doctor. Each day without news was another to kick the can of worms further down the road.
It turned out that Edie’s bakery sustained minimal damage, to the relief of the townsfolk who had come to depend on her baked goods as a normal part of their daily routine. The shop had been closed for a few days while a thorough check was done to determine everything was safe.
As it was Wednesday again, the Chicklits were meeting at the big table in the back of A Novel Experience arguing over next month’s selection. They’d decided it was time for a romance and there was a strenuous debate over whether a billionaire BDSM should trump a sweet friends-to-lovers contemporary romance. Quinn took a sip of water from her bottle and accidentally splashed some down her “Reading Is Sexy” t-shirt. Wiping at it, she called out, “Maybe you guys can just split the difference? The half of you rooting for whips and canes can choose that book and the other half that wants movie dates and walks in the rain can go that route.”
“That’s not how this works,” a woman in a pair of faded overalls piped up. “This is about consensus.”
“We’
re the thirteen musketeers,” interjected another woman with painted eyebrows. “We’re all in. One for all. However it goes.”
“By all means, carry on—only making a suggestion,” Quinn said in a fake hoity tone.
“Is that the pretty one who’s dating your grandson?” Painted Eyebrows’ stage whisper was impossible to ignore. “That still working out? If not, mind if I try to set her up with my Roger?”
Grandma Kane held court at the end of the table like a dowager countess. Annie had dropped her off for book club before ducking in the Brightwater Bugle offices to finish an article.
“I don’t pretend to know what, or whom, my grandson is doing.” Grandma’s frosty tone didn’t inspire much in the way of confidence.
“I’ve heard his truck has been parked in front of her house most every night.”
“I heard that they were spotted in the grocery store together buying hot fudge.”
“I heard that they were seen kissing in the town square and that tongue was most definitely involved.”
Quinn’s cheeks flamed. She knew small towns had a reputation for busybody behavior, but had someone followed her around the last two weeks with a handheld camera?
Finally she glanced up from her stack of inventory. “Um, ladies. I can hear you.”
They all burst out laughing.
“Course you can,” Grandma Kane said. “They’re trying to get a rise.”
“Just trying to have some sorely needed fun, Dorothy. This weather has been giving me a bad case of the grumps,” the woman in overalls said.
“Have your fun with someone else’s family, Beryl. Not mine. Meeting is adjourned.” Grandma rapped her knuckles on the table.
“But we haven’t decided on a title,” Painted Eyebrows protested.
Grandma furrowed her brow. “We’re doing the contemporary. The hero on the cover reminds me of Chris Pratt.”
“Chris Brat?” Another piped up. “Who’s that?”
“Pratt,” Grandma snapped. “P like phenomenal.”
“But that sounds like an F.”
“Sounds like but isn’t.”
“What’s a Pratt?” another member asked, turning up her hearing aid, the high-pitched squeak making everyone jump.
“He’s an actor. Guardians of the Galaxy?” Quinn interjected. “Jurassic World?”
Twenty-four eyes stared blankly at her.
“Good taste, Mrs. Kane.” Quinn gave a thumbs-up.
Grandma ignored her.
P also stands for poleaxe. Grandma Kane had quite the hatchet face. Imagine having been raised by her—no wonder Wilder ran out of town. But then, Sawyer and Archer seemed to regard her with real affection, and she returned it.
What had happened between her and her oldest grandson?
The contemporary romance winners moved on from bickering over phonetic pronunciations and began high-fiving each other over their victory while the BDSM fans marched out grumbling under their breath. It looked like Grandma had the final say even outside of Hidden Rock Ranch.
And as the shop emptied, it also looked like the two of them were going to be alone for a bit. Quinn gave the wall clock a covert glance.
“Still fifteen minutes until Annie is due to fetch me.”
“I wasn’t—”
Grandma smiled tightly. “Don’t feed me a line, dearie. I can smell your fear a mile away.”
“Fear?” Quinn lifted her chin. “You think I’m scared of you?”
“Everyone is.”
Quinn laughed despite herself. “Now I know where Wilder gets it from.”
“Gets what?”
Quinn arched a brow. “That tough-as-nails routine.”
“Hrumph.” Grandma opened up her purse and made a careful study of its contents.
“Wilder wants to make you proud, you know.”
“Know? Know?” Grandma’s voice rose an octave. “What would I know about Wilder Kane? There’s a boy that doesn’t want to be known, pushes everyone away. Always has.”
“He does.” Quinn came out from around the counter. “He does that so much.”
“You think you can roll around in the hay or whatever it is you do for a couple of weeks and presume to tell me how it is with a boy I’ve known since he was whizzing in diapers?”
Quinn paused, before nodding slowly. “Yeah, I think I can. Sometimes a situation can be better assessed with a fresh pair of eyes.”
“Doesn’t look like your eyes see all that great.” Grandma sniffed, waving her hands in the direction of Quinn’s glasses.
“Wow.” Quinn took a seat. “You really bring out the heavy artillery to keep people at bay, don’t you?”
“I don’t know what you are yammering about.” Grandma returned to her handbag rummage. “I’m just going to sit here and wait for my harebrained daughter-in-law to fetch me. No, wait, not daughter-in-law because right now she’s living in sin with my Sawyer.”
Quinn propped her hand on her chin. “They seem serious.”
Grandma wrinkled her nose in response. “Serious is when he sticks a ring on her finger and gives me some legitimate grandbabies.”
“Legitimate?” Quinn smothered a smile. “We aren’t in the middle ages anymore.”
“This is Brightwater, not Hollywood. Traditional family values still matter here. At least to the old-time families.”
“Hey now, I’m a Higsby, remember?”
“To a degree.” Grandma pulled out an Us Weekly from her purse. No wonder she was current on all the hot young actors.
“Hey!” An idea occurred to her. Good or bad was impossible to say, but worth a shot. She didn’t need this woman to bless her relationship, but sensed it would mean the world to Wilder. “Would you be willing to come to my house?”
Grandma glanced over the top of the magazine with a startled expression. “Now why would I want to do that?”
“I’d like to make you and Wilder dinner. The three of us. You and I can get acquainted and you and he . . . well, you can get reacquainted?”
“Does that boy know about your cockamamie idea?”
“Of course.” It was a little startling how smoothly the lie rolled off her tongue. “In fact, it was his suggestion.”
Grandma shook her head. “Now I know you’re telling tales out of school.”
“I’m serious. How does tomorrow night sound?”
The bells to the front door tinkled.
“Evening, ladies. Brrrrrrr, it’s freezing outside.” Annie came in pink cheeked and bright eyed, her small frame buried under a bright yellow jacket, red wool scarf, and ladybug winter boots. Somehow the whole eclectic combo looked perfect on her.
“I was just telling Grandma here how Wilder and I wanted to have her over to my place for dinner tomorrow night.”
“Oh.” Annie blinked as if to say “Are you sure about that?” Instead, she managed to say, “What a wonderful idea. She’d love that.”
“My hip might be bum but I have a pair of perfectly functioning vocal cords,” Grandma snapped. “And wonderful and love aren’t the words I’m searching for.”
“I know you aren’t driving much these days on account of your fall last summer but how about Wilder comes and picks you up at six?” Quinn crossed her fingers under the table. Please don’t let him kill me.
“Six? Won’t work. I eat at five,” Grandma said grimly.
Annie clucked her tongue. “Isn’t it fun to try new things, step out of the ho-hum routine?”
Grandma slammed her hat on her head, a purple felt one with a plastic bird stapled to the side. “Change gives me indigestion.”
“Five is perfect.” Quinn smiled. “So Wilder will pick you up at four-thirty and we’ll eat then. I don’t work tomorrow. I’m going to spend the afternoon with Dad.”
> “Fine.” Grandma heaved a hefty sigh. “As long as you don’t serve none of that kombooty.”
“Excuse me?”
She pointed an accusing finger at Annie. “Kombooty. This one tried to poison me with it last week.”
“Kombucha,” Annie replied patiently. “It’s full of probiotics.”
“Smelled like infected cat pee.”
“No kombucha, promise. How about pan-fried pork chop and baked potatoes?” Quinn could manage that, just. “I’ll pick up a yummy dessert from Edie’s shop.”
“She’s another one.” Grandma shook her head. “Can’t that girl bake a chocolate cake, plain and sensible? No, she has to go adding a ganache. What is a ganache anyway?”
“It’s a French glaze,” Annie answered promptly.
“Foreign food.” Grandma huffed. “Why not good old American buttercream?”
“Grandma, are you having a low-blood-sugar moment because I have some snacks in my car.” Annie’s tone seemed sweet but Quinn could tell she enjoyed baiting the older woman.
“You’re trying to kill me off with those snacks. Dried coconut chips, blue corn chips, and homemade granola? No thank you.” What’s more, Grandma enjoyed being baited.
Annie grinned. “All the more kale for me then.”
Grandma shook her head but couldn’t restrain her own smile. Needling Annie seemed to be how she showed affection. Interesting.
“I look forward to seeing you tomorrow night,” Quinn said in her most chipper tone.
“Just once, just once I’d like one of my grandsons to settle down with a sensible girl. Do you have sense, missy? And how is your father?” Grandma continued, not waiting for a reply to her first question. She shoved her magazine back in the bag and rose. “Damn shame what happened to him. He was a fine man, a good man. They don’t make them like that in this day and age.”
“Thank you,” Quinn said. “I miss him, which is strange to say because he’s right there in front of me.”
