One of the guys she’d dated in college had been in the Army and his apartment had been covered in the evidence. He’d had portraits of soldiers in uniform, group shots of soldiers-gone-wild at the strip clubs, and albums of his time overseas. Those were physical examples. Their conversations had been peppered with his time in the military. You can take the soldier out of the Army, but you can’t take the Army out of the soldier.
It was like Dillon erased his time away from the farm, regretted leaving at all.
Gone for eight years. That’s almost halfway to military retirement. And then he’d come home and his father had gotten sick and passed away. Was he guilt-ridden, like he’d chosen to spend eight years away from the man who’d meant the most to him in the world?
Elle rummaged through a few cupboards and found some Pop-Tarts. She grabbed a packet to munch on while she finished pondering the man who’d centered himself in her world.
She liked him. A lot.
She migrated to the window where she squinted through the large sliding door into the shop. Jeepers, the building was huge, resembled a small airplane hangar. Rumblings of a tractor came from inside. Out rolled an older red tractor with a scoop bucket on the front. Dillon sat behind the wheel, running the bucket as he started the tedious process of clearing snow.
He looked so natural, could probably run that thing in his sleep. Occasionally, he’d lean over each side, but his focus was on the snow, moving it around like he’d probably done his whole life.
Well, she was a Minnesota girl. She’d run a shovel her whole life, so she could help, too.
She couldn’t shovel in her work clothes from the day before or in the shoes she’d worn. The trunk of her car held the answer.
It was a mad dash to find the lights in the garage, rush across the cold floor in her bare feet, and pop the trunk. Inside, she had snow pants and boots, still packed from her trip to the Twin Cities the previous month.
She dressed and punched the garage door opener. As it rose, the drone of the tractor grew louder. A snow shovel hung in a rack on the wall, easy to spot as they were lined up tidy. The first job she tackled was the wall of snow the garage door had been holding back. The snow must be at least a foot and a half high, threatening to spill into the garage.
If the roads had this amount, there was little chance her car was going to make it.
She started at the top and cut her way down, opening a swath in front of the garage for Dillon to maneuver in close with the bucket. At one point, she looked up to see him give her an easy nod and smile.
The strong rays of the sun ate away at the mass accumulation of sparkling crystals, but the massive amount would take a few days to melt entirely, if the temps stayed up.
While Dillon labored on opening the driveway to the road, she shoveled around the house, tromping through wet snow to her knees, listening as it melted and trickled down the gutters from the roof.
The tractor lumbered back, aiming for the shop.
She trekked in after him. After the intense shine outside, her eyes worked to adjust to the dimness.
When her gaze landed on the large red tractor marred by poorly matching blotches of spray paint, she wandered closer. So this was what Brock had been talking about.
“It’s bad, but it’s all superficial.” Dillon came up beside her, and she tried not to lose herself in thoughts of how right this felt.
“I guess no one’s looking when you’re out in the field, but it’s just so awful.”
“I know,” he said grimly. “It’s an old model anyway, so we’ve decided to upgrade. The last few years have been good ones, not too wet, not too dry, no hail storms. We’re sitting comfortably enough to upgrade. I’m just glad he didn’t hurt anyone when he stole my truck.”
“No idea who it is?”
“It’s a small town, but no one’s heard anything. I’ve no idea why us. Why my property has been the only one touched.”
“Your cousins haven’t had problems?”
Dillon shook his head. “Brock said he thought maybe someone had been out to his place, but the others haven’t experienced anything unusual. I’m the closest to town.” He pointed to the south. “Cash and the ranch portion of our business are over there.” Then he pointed east. “As you drive down the road, Brock’s place is the next one on this side of the road. Then Aaron, and Travis lives at the dead end.”
“Five farming bachelors all in a line?”
His blue eyes crinkled with humor. “Well, Travis has had a girlfriend since college. Fiancée, actually. They got engaged last summer.”
His tone was so neutral, not animated like when he talked about the rest of his family. “You don’t like her?”
She got a noncommittal shrug. “It’s not that I don’t like her, it’s just that she… He deserves someone’s who’s a little more excited about our way of life. She’s always running to the cities for shopping and going out with friends, hardly ever comes to our gatherings, lives in town even though he’s asked her to move in.” He shrugged again. “He loves her, so whatever.”
He fell quiet and rubbed the back of his neck. Only sounds of water dripping off the tractor as snow melted filled the large shop. She sensed Dillon wasn’t telling her something.
“What is it?”
“I didn’t see any signs of the plows on the main road. It’s melting rapidly, but not fast enough to take off fifteen inches of fresh powder. Sorry, Elle. I think you’re stuck here another day.”
Yeah, she should be sorry, too. Summoning the response was too much effort. He shuffled next to her, like he had more to add.
“It’s okay. Is something wrong?”
He took his hat off to scratch his head. “Well, once it’s plowed, these roads tend to be pretty sloppy for a day or two, depending on sunshine. Our pickups make it through fine, but your little car…”
She was stuck here. “Oh shit, work! I forgot to call.”
“I’m sure they’re closed. The news last night said all the towns in the path of the storm were shut down. Tomorrow’s Friday and people are still going to be cleaning up.”
Yeah, maybe. She had shelter, the only thing more important was— “Oh God, Dillon, what are we going to eat? You’ve got no food.”
He laughed good naturedly, eyes twinkling. “My freezer’s stocked and you haven’t seen my emergency stash in the basement. We still have power, so no worries.”
She followed him out of the shop. He pushed the doors closed and they headed inside through the garage where they both stripped out of their wet, sweaty clothes.
Ugh, she needed a shower. “Can I borrow some more clothes and throw these in the wash?”
“Sure thing. I have a few things to add to it, too.” He shot her a knowing smirk.
A blush crawled up her skin. What was going to develop over the next two days alone with him?
Chapter Thirteen
Elle was his for another day or two. Thank you, unexpected spring snowstorm. Dillon stepped out of the shower and dressed. He gathered up everything for the laundry and stopped to pick up Elle’s clothes from outside the bathroom door where he told her to leave them. Setting down a pair of shorts and T-shirt, he tried not think about how she’d been commando all morning.
It’d been a losing battle while watching her bend and stomp around in her adorable winter gear. Gray snow pants had never been so sexy.
He thought she’d stay in bed or migrate back to her room after grabbing something to eat. Maybe spend the morning wandering through the house or watching TV. Then the garage door had opened and his little snow bunny had shoveled away. They made a damn good team and his male pride enjoyed her car in his garage.
Dropping the laundry in the wash, he spotted her bra in the pile. Good God, he wasn’t going to survive if she went braless and panty-less around his house.
He punched the buttons of the machine, then stopped to brace himself against it. He heard her coming out of the bathroom, where he’d see her in his clothes, wea
ring nothing underneath. Lust licked through his body, settling—along with his blood supply—in his groin.
They needed to eat. He could distract himself by feeding her.
One of Mama’s meals sounded good. Better than his emergency stash of canned goods. Digging through the freezer, he found some of her homemade tomato soup. As long as his cheese and bread hadn’t gone bad, he’d whip up some grilled cheese.
“Dillon,” Elle called from her room, “can I borrow a sweatshirt, too?”
“Yeah, take a look around my room. There’s one hanging somewhere.”
The soup was melting in the pot and he had a few sandwiches ready to fry when she walked out in an old Army sweatshirt. Leave it to her to find his stash of Army pride clothing that he never wore anymore. The wet hair and makeup free face made her look young and enchanting.
He shot her a smile. “Hungry?”
“Smells delicious. Is that homemade?”
“Soup by Mama, grilled cheese by me. Nothing but the best for you,” he said with a grin.
Elle pitched in to help because that’s what she did. She obviously wasn’t one to stand by and watch, be waited on. Must be what she’d had to do when her mom left, then when her dad got sick.
No family, but at least Elle still had Gary. Being surrounded by family was one of the main reasons why he came back home. Cash and his epic fuckup was the other.
They sat down at the table with their spread. From the way they both dug into it with glee, lunch hit the spot.
“So now what?” Elle took the dishes to the sink and to wash them. “What do farmers and ranchers do when it’s a snow day for everyone else?”
“Bachelor farmers clean house, but mine’s still pretty good. That leaves tinkering in the shop. There’s always something to do. However, I have company, so I’m calling it a snow day.”
She paused and looked over her shoulder. “Don’t let me stop you from your work.”
“Once this mess melts, there’ll be more than enough work for me. I wouldn’t mind a day off.” Especially one with a beautiful woman. “Really, we already worked half of it.”
She chuckled as if that made her feel better, like she’d ever be a burden.
He helped her finish the dishes. Her back was to him wiping down the counter. Seizing the opportunity, he swirled his towel, winding it fast, then whipping it out to snap her in the butt.
She yelped and spun on him. The surprise in her eyes faded into cold calculation. Her hand reached into the sink, pulling up a mound of suds that she threw in his face.
Laughing, he lunged for her. She tossed one more handful before he pinned her between himself and the counter.
Her flushed expression hinted that she had the same thoughts he was having: that she was tired of the distance between them. He solved the problem with a kiss.
She greedily returned his kiss. He pushed her shorts down before lifting her out of them to the counter. Expecting resistance, he got none. To test the waters, he ran his hands up her legs, under the sweatshirt and shirt. Cupping her breasts, thumbing her nipples, her groan of approval was very satisfying to his craving. Need controlled his movements, he couldn’t be accused of thinking with his dick. Since he met her, this was his goal, to break her out of her shell and make her his.
She hesitated only slightly before breaking the kiss to raise her arms and yank both tops off.
He couldn’t breathe. Every inch, from her perfect breasts down to where she was opened to him, was on display. Under her left breast was a tattoo of a wave with the outline of a swimmer in black ink. Erotic as hell.
He traced it with his finger. “Got any more?”
“You’ll have to find out. I need your shirt off.”
He ripped it off in less than two seconds, unbuttoned his pants in one, freeing himself. His cock twitched, painfully responsive, even to his own touch.
“Elle,” he spoke so low it was almost a whisper. “I need to be inside of you, but I’ve got to go find my wallet.” He wanted to ask her if she was on anything, if she trusted he was clean. He’d never been in a woman without a shield between them, would’ve never risked it. He wanted nothing between him and Elle and he wanted her now.
That pink tongue of hers flicked out to lick her lips.
He groaned. “You’re killing me, woman.”
“Maybe I can take care of that.” She eased off the counter and nudged him around until his back was toward it.
Holy shit, was she really going to—
Sinking to her knees answered his question. Yes. Yes she was.
He braced his hands on the counter behind him, his pelvis jerking when her cool hand wrapped around his length. Meeting his gaze, she licked the tip and he almost buckled to his knees, too.
She took him in her mouth and he dropped his head back. Blow jobs weren’t something he experienced a lot of. One of the downsides of never really being in a relationship. When he did hook-up, it was fast and mutually pleasing, but not often did he and his partner have the time, or ambition, to explore.
Elle—he would get lost in her. Wanted to learn every inch of her delectable body, every move that made her shudder. All she needed to do was let him. This was above and beyond.
His hips moved of their own accord. Supreme effort was used to not thrust and gag her. He gripped the counter to maintain some control.
Naked, on her knees in front of him, mouth on his cock equaled ready to come, but he managed to prolong the most intense experience of his life.
Threading his fingers into her hair, he watched her take him in as far she could, her cheeks hollow as she sucked back down his length. It was too much, the sight of her pleasuring him. The orgasm refused to be held back anymore. He grabbed a towel off the counter to catch his release.
“I’m going to come.” His strangled warning came just before his ejaculate exploded out of him.
But Elle kept going and he lost himself in her mouth, grunting her name, jerking his hips, one hand still buried in her hair, the other holding him up. She took him, all of him. Just when he thought it couldn’t get any more arousing, she let him go and licked her lips.
Sagging against the counter, he might be spent, but he wasn’t done. He wanted to rock her ever-lovin’ world like she’d done to him.
“Lay back,” he growled.
Lids heavy with desire, a blush of arousal highlighting her skin, she did as he asked. Broad daylight, and she was stretched out on the floor, waiting for him.
He shoved down his pants the rest of the way, got down, and spread her legs. Finding her swollen nub, he feasted on her.
She bucked and hollered his name, but he was relentless, using his tongue to drive her wild. She tasted so sweet and was close to climax. He backed off and teased her, sliding his finger in and out.
“You’re destroying me, Dillon,” she gasped, writhing against his face.
He nipped her, and she jumped, moaning again with pleasure. Her feet rested on his shoulders, knees fallen to the side. She was utterly at his mercy where she’d had full control of him just minutes before. Only then did he think he matched the fervor she’d created within him.
She gripped his hair while she rode him, her body wanting the release he promised. He relented, curling his finger slightly inside her.
“Omigod,” she cried.
Her release was decadent. He held her, tasted her, pleasured her until she went limp, her feet falling from his shoulders.
Painfully hard again, the sight of her spent on his kitchen floor came straight out of his dreams. He crawled up her belly to stretch over her, kissing her neck while she caught her breath.
“Will you let me in, Elle? I want you so bad.”
Maybe it was the sound of his desperation, maybe she needed him as badly as he did her. Whatever made her cradle him with her legs and place him at her entrance, he was grateful. His focus was slowly on pushing inside heaven. Wet, hot, and tight, still quivering from her orgasm. If she hadn’t taken care of him, h
e would’ve exploded by now.
Supporting himself on his elbows, he wanted to watch her. He couldn’t read the look in her eyes. Yes, there was pleasure, but there was something deeper, more serious, like she didn’t know if this was a good idea, but like him, wanted it—severely.
When he was seated fully inside he stilled, letting her adjust around him. Was this what it felt like with no barriers? Except with Elle, he could wear five condoms and she’d still feel like the softest, warmest glove on his most sensitive flesh.
Legs wrapping around his waist was a signal he needed to start stroking. Pumping his hips slowly at first, he worked them both back up, until their breaths came in pants and moans, and her legs were pulling him in just as hard as he was pushing.
He reached between them to circle her clit as he thrust, and sucked a nipple into his mouth. She raked her nails across his back, a reaction he loved from her.
He pumped into her. The spasms holding his cock so tightly finished him. Elle hollered his name and dropped her arms back on the floor and arched her back. Hair framed her head, spread out like the halo of a sex goddess. She climaxed in the sunlight, shouting her elation from an orgasm that gripped his shaft tighter than it had his fingers. He joined her wanton release with a curt shout before throwing his head back and releasing deep inside her willing body.
Collapsing on top of her, he worried he was too heavy with a hard floor sandwiching her on the other side. He rolled to the side and wrapped her in his arms.
“I know this is kind of late but,” his voice was rough, raw, “are you on anything?” Oddly, it wouldn’t bother him if she wasn’t. He already knew she wasn’t a quick fuck, that he wanted a lot more from her than her body.
She nodded against his shoulder, but didn’t say anything.
He looked down at her. “Everything all right?”
She chewed her lower lip and nodded again, but still said nothing.
A crooked finger under her chin brought her gaze up to him. “It’s okay, Elle. What we did wasn’t wrong.”
The indecision deep in her emerald eyes confirmed he nailed the problem on the head.
Conflict of Interest (The Walker Five Book 1) Page 10
