Untamed (Irresistible Bachelors Book 9)

by Lauren Landish

  But even if I could get her to give me a chance, how do we make the logistics work? She lives in town and my home base is here. She’s not gonna leave the job she loves, and while I’m doing better, I need the solitude out here. I’m just not cut out to be a city guy in a suit and tie, surrounded by hustle and bustle. Not anymore. I’d go crazy.

  But I’m going crazy without her, haven’t slept in days. I even found myself dozing with her pillow in my arms, face buried in it to keep her scent around me. I miss the little things, the way her nose flares when she’s mad, the softness of her skin against mine, the way just being around her feels like a dose of sunshine straight to my heart.

  It was that mental, physical, and soul connection that was as necessary as air . . . and now I’m floating in space again and trying to figure out how to survive when I can’t fucking breathe.

  Rex whimpers, and I look at him, knowing Car’s right. I have to do something to fix this somehow. There’s no way I’m going to end up some hermit that lives out in the middle of the wilderness, unbothered by the sheriff simply because I’m too damn ornery, only to die lonely and alone, my body some snack for the pigs or wolves. At one time, I wouldn’t have minded that. Could’ve sold it as dust to dust or some life-cycle bullshit.

  It’s a fucking scary thought. I go inside the cabin, and something has me reach under my bed. I haven’t looked at it in years, not since I put it away, but Gabe’s duffel bag was delivered home after he went missing, along with a few letters that the mail hadn’t brought yet. I’d tossed them inside, intending to read them one day. Or not. For some reason, I’m drawn to it today, willing to revisit my big brother and his life before it was cut so short.

  I pull the bag out, looking at the old, dusty nylon with O’Day written on the side in permanent marker.

  It’s clipped closed and I open it. “I could really use your help, Gabe,” I whisper as I reach inside. I root around, just trying to find some hope. I feel my hand bump against his medals, his dress uniform, and the bundle of letters. I discard them all, my hand finding a piece of cloth that I take out, and I realize I’ve snagged one of Gabe’s old ACU pants. It seems like an oddly personal item, but I can’t help but hug them, knowing he wore these day in and day out on so many adventures, both good and bad. I did the same in my ACUs. Out of habit, I ranger roll them to stuff them back into the bag. But a crunching sound grabs my attention. Curious, I quickly search the pockets and finally find a folded-up piece of paper in the knee pocket.

  I unfold the letter and see the date. It was written the day before our last Skype talk, and I feel like the heavens have maybe opened up to me as I read.

  Dear Little Brother,

  I know, I know, stupid for me to be writing you when I’m going to be Skyping you tomorrow, or when I can send an email a lot more quickly. But, situations being what they are, I’m currently stuck on guard duty in a foxhole surrounded by sandbags, and the closest computer is about two miles away.

  I wanted to take a moment to tell you that I’m proud of you. When I enlisted in the Army, I was a mess. Mom won’t tell you, she thinks I shit rainbows, but I’d gotten into drinking, hanging with some people I wasn’t supposed to, just stupidity like that.

  So I enlisted in an attempt to straighten myself out. And the Army’s been more or less good for me. Some of us mature later than others, I guess. That’s what our Sergeant says, anyway.

  But you seem to be doing pretty well, nothing too crazy. Unless Mom thinks you shit rainbows too and doesn’t know about your wild side? I’m hoping not because that’ll mess up your scholarship, man. And I’ve told everyone about your getting that letter. I’m so damn proud my baby brother got a scholarship to Oregon! Hell, to anywhere. That’s your ticket.

  I’ve had a lot of time over here to read. It’s better than getting drunk or jacking off to porn. And I’ve learned a few things, even if I’m not a college douchebag.

  And I want you to do something I didn’t when I was 18.

  Seize the motherfucking day. Carpe the fuck outta that diem.

  The world’s a scary place, Bro. I’ve seen shit I shouldn’t, that no man should see. And what all this has taught me is to live. Go for the longshot, take the chance, risk it all, because you might not have tomorrow.

  And if you lose . . . fuck, man, we all lose. But at least you lose as a man. You go down standing up. I know you well enough to know that you can live with that.

  Hope that helps you next fall . . .

  All My Love,

  Gabriel O’Day

  Chapter 30

  Ana

  “So I told the lady, if you don’t get this raggedy ass mop of a wig off your head, I will not be doing your makeup,” Brad says as he, Trey, and I relax in a booth at our favorite after-work bar, which happens to be inside the Great Falls resort. It turns out those rumors were true and someone did eventually build a ski resort in our growing little town.

  I’m glad some of the other rumors weren’t true. Now that I know what really happened with Aubrey’s family, some of the wilder tales seem almost disrespectful and salacious.

  It’s my first day off since getting back to work, and it feels good to have a little bit of relaxation, especially when I’d been sweet-talked into picking up a shift for another department. After my vacation, I’ve worked over thirty-six of the last seventy-two hours and then slept the rest of the time away, my body seemingly not used to the pace after a couple of weeks off. Actually, now that I do the math, I think I’ve been home for four days . . . and I slept until six tonight, only waking up because Trey promised me tapas and wine and threatened to kidnap me to get me out.

  Brad, of course, is giving zero fucks about my exhaustion as he entertains us and probably half the patrons with his monologue. “ . . . and she, get this—she actually snapped at me. ‘I’m paying you to do what I want, so do it.’” Brad mimics a high-pitched, bitchy woman before returning to his slightly less-high, bitchy man voice. “Can you imagine? She thought I was some peon that she could boss around? Not how this works, sweetheart. So yeah, I’m not doing that wedding.” Brad’s a makeup artist—actually, he usually says it like ar-teest—who moved to Great Falls from Hollywood and has crazy story after crazy story about celebrities. He does tons of weddings for the resort these days and will tell his clients up front that there’s only room for one –zilla and it’s him, Bradzilla. No bridezillas, no momzillas, no bridesmaidzillas. I’m not sure that last one is a thing, but Brad makes sure to cover all the bases because he’s rather persnickety about his work and the results speak for themselves.

  I laugh a little, the story outrageous enough to penetrate the fog I’m living in. I take a sip of my wine, barely tasting the sweet Moscato.

  While having a day off helps, I’ve been in a funk ever since I left the cabin. I love my job, but even returning to work has done little to lift my spirits, and I’m now physically, as well as mentally, exhausted. But I don’t say anything. I don’t want Trey and Brad to feel more put-upon than they already are.

  “So what happened?” Trey asks, smirking. “Let me guess, you two had a professional discussion, where you made suggestions about other hair options and she listened politely?”

  “Honey, please, you know me,” Brad replies. “I spun that chair right around and invited her to kick it . . . right out of my salon. And she did, with the weakest little hair flip I’ve evah seen.” He flicks his imaginary hair, tossing his head. “I don’t need –zillas like that. We’re too booked as it is. Two words. High. Demand.”

  Trey snorts, sipping his beer. “You know, Brad, a little modesty would go a long way.”

  “I am modest. I’m the baddest bitch makeup artist this side of backstage at the Oscars!”

  I stifle a sigh as I tune out Brad and Trey’s bickering, letting it become nothing but background music as I look around the bar. It’s got beautiful wood paneling and marble accents, and the brass along the bar top gleams in the soft light. I find my eyes scanning, loo
king for something, and my gut does a flip-flop when I see a tall and wide guy with a beard at the bar, but then he turns. It’s not Aubrey. Fuck, I’m looking for him. Here, at a bar in Great Falls, as if he’d come down off his mountain for anything. For me.

  I take another sip of wine, closing my eyes for a second. Not to doze, but just to focus my mind. I miss him, that much is obvious. Mrs. Smith’s letter has been bouncing around in my head, taking root in my thoughts and making me think that maybe we could find a way. It’s worth trying at least, because I’ve never felt like this about anyone, before or after Aubrey. Although, there was never really anyone after Aubrey, just casual relationships and fuck buddies to pass the time. But Aubrey’s had my heart so long, it’s his. Always has been. And his is mine.

  “Uhm, hey . . . Ana?” Trey’s voice is hushed as he tries to wake me up, seeing my closed eyes.

  I shake my head, holding up a finger. “Shh, not sleeping. Having an epiphany. Hold, please.”

  I can hear the smile in his voice. “Well, you might want to do it faster. I’m not sure if he’s gonna run for the door or run for you.”

  I crack an eye at his cryptic words, “Huh?”

  Trey points toward the door, and Brad is literally bouncing in his seat, arm waving high as he yells out, “Yoohooooo! Over here.”

  To Aubrey.

  He’s standing in the doorway, looking uncomfortably out of place in jeans and a flannel, but also like an apex predator in the swanky bar. His height and width clear a path before he even moves toward me. And his eyes are locked on mine, targeted in on me like a heat-seeking missile on a mission.

  I’m frozen for a second until Brad tells me quietly, “Girl, you’d better get your fine ass out of that seat and greet your man properly or I’m going to do it for you.” He’s kidding, of course. He’s ridiculously and obnoxiously head over heels in love with my brother, but it’s the kick I need to move.

  I stand up, and that seems to answer some question I didn’t know he was asking because he moves faster now, cutting the last bit of distance in just a few wide strides. He grabs me, lifting my feet from the floor, and I fight the urge to wrap my legs around him, chanting PDA . . . PDA . . . PDA. I’m not sure if I’m cheering for it or against it.

  But I forget when Aubrey meets my lips with a searing kiss, his mouth hot and minty like he was preparing for this kiss. For it. I’m definitely cheering for PDA as I kiss him back, letting my legs wrap around him to hold tight.

  He’s trying to talk in between kisses, words and smacks intermingled. “Ana . . . I love you . . . missed you . . . fuck.” I just mumble back, humming agreement with whatever he’s saying, just damn glad he’s here. For me.

  Trey clears his throat pointedly and Brad shushes him, the noises breaking my reverie a bit as I peek over my shoulder. Trey’s eyes are locked on Aubrey as he slides a keycard across the table. “Room 1904, mountain view. Not that I think you’re going to care in the least.”

  Aubrey reaches for the card, a smile on his face, but Trey holds it in place with one finger. “Don’t hurt her,” he says, his voice hard and threatening.

  I have no idea what’s happening, how I got here. “What’s going on?”

  Trey cuts his eyes to me. “You don’t hurt him either, Sis.”

  Before I can answer, Aubrey does a little bounce that moves me higher on his body and turns to walk away, carrying me from the bar that I’m never going to be able to step foot in again. Aubrey yells over his shoulder, “Thanks, Trey. For everything.”

  We kiss our way up the elevator. I don’t know if there were other people in there or not. Didn’t care. And when we get to room 1904, Aubrey fumbles with the keycard for a moment before striding inside, kicking and locking the door behind us.

  He sets me on the bed and kneels at my feet. “Fuck, Ana. Okay, I don’t want to mess this up. Just bear with me.”

  I cup his face, catching his attention and then his lips with mine. “Aubrey, breathe. Just talk to me.”

  He nods. “I tried, I really tried to give you space and time like you asked for. But I can’t do it anymore. I love you, Ana. You own me, heart and soul. It’s not a pretty gift anymore, not shiny and unblemished like when we were kids. It’s full of nicks and scratches, dents and cracks. But it’s all I have, and it’s yours. If you want it. Fuck, say you want it, want me.”

  The plea is thick in his voice, the fear that I’ll actually deny him real in his mind. But I wouldn’t, couldn’t deny him . . . us. “I love you too, Aubrey. I’ve missed you. I don’t know how it’ll all work out, but I want it to. I’ll do whatever we have to because you have my heart too.”

  I can see the light in his eyes flare, overshadowing any darkness there with our love. And he hugs me, pulling me tight to him and gathering me in his arms as he presses his cheek to my breasts. It’s Aubrey at his most vulnerable, his relief a physical release as the weight of tension leaves his body.

  After a moment, he begins to nuzzle my chest, his grizzled cheek teasing along the fullness of my breasts. My nipples harden in my bra, begging to get closer to Aubrey. His mouth is right there . . . so close. If only there weren’t so many layers of clothes between us.

  Aubrey growls as I arch my back, pressing for more. “Wait. Ana, baby . . . I told you that the next time I took you, there’d be no doubt that you’re mine.” He fumbles with something in his pocket and pulls out a black velvet box just like the one from before.

  I gasp. “Aubrey, is that what I think it is?” I have a flashback to his opening a box like this and giving me a promise ring. The ring that’s still in my jewelry box at home, a precious memento even when it was too painful and seemingly meaningless to wear it.

  He opens the box, and it’s gorgeous, sparkly infinity loops on either side of a center solitaire. He pulls it out of the box, holding it up as though it’s the precious thing he’s giving me, but I know better. The ring is a symbol of so much more, of what he’s really giving me—himself, his heart, a future.

  “Sweet Ana, once upon a time, I made a promise to you that I was going to get down on one knee and give you a diamond ring and that then I’d give you a wedding band and the future we dreamed of. It took me a hell of a lot longer to make good on that promise than I thought it would, but here we are. Anabelle Tucker, will you marry me?”

  I’m a blubbering mess, tears running down my face as I sniffle grossly, but Aubrey doesn’t seem to mind as I nod, repeating on a loop, “Yes. Oh, my God, yes. Yes, Aubrey!”

  He slips the ring on my finger, and we seal the promise with a kiss. We made it, the road longer and more winding than we’d planned, darker and lonelier than we’d wanted, but it got us here, right where we should be.

  We kiss again, slowly stripping the clothes off each other as we stretch out on the bed. I lie back, Aubrey looking down at me with so much emotion burning in his eyes. “There’s nothing I’ve wanted in my life more than this moment.”

  I cup his face, and he leans down, kissing me tenderly before trailing kisses down my throat to my breasts, nuzzling and sucking until I’m swimming in warm sensations. I run my hands through his hair, biting my lip as I push him down. “Please, Aubrey.”

  He rumbles, kissing a trail down my belly as he moves down, smirking as he reaches my mound. He pauses, looking up at me and licking his lips. “Tell me when you’ve had enough.”

  I chuckle, nodding as he lowers his tongue and licks the entire length of my pussy, teasing my lips and making me gasp. Aubrey’s never been this tender, this gentle, and it adds a whole new flavor to his lovemaking, sending chills up my spine even as he makes my toes curl.

  With quick, passionate licks, he teases my pussy open, licking deep in my folds until I’m left gasping, moaning in need for a release. “Aubrey . . . please.”

  “Always,” he rumbles, withdrawing his tongue to suck on my clit. I cry out, my first orgasm jolting my spine as he traces love letters on my sensitive nub. Instead of stopping, though, he speeds up, sucking a
nd feasting on my clit. “Mmm . . . I’m doing this again.”

  “And I’d let you do this the rest of our lives,” I promise him as he cups my ass, holding me to his hungry mouth while I grind my soaked pussy against his mouth and tongue. Aubrey’s answering growl of pleasure tells me all I need to know, and I abandon myself to his tender ministrations.

  Aubrey transcends the bonds of sex, each stroke infused with energy and warmth. Every inch of my skin can feel the ripples his tongue is causing in my body, and he never seems to repeat a stroke, dancing around my clit before dragging long licks over the tip and then diving deeply down into my pussy again.

  My second orgasm builds deep within me as Aubrey draws me along, letting it build and build without pushing me over the edge. I moan his name again and again, biting my lip as he brings me trembling to the edge before backing off, only to repeat it again. “Aubrey, I need you.”

  He suddenly withdraws his tongue and sits up, spreading my legs and sliding his cock deep within me as he looks in my eyes. The sudden wonderful stretching sends me over the edge, and my pussy squeezes him, my breath taken away as I clutch at his shoulders, coming hard around his cock.

  “That’s it, Sweet Ana,” Aubrey whispers, grinding his cock deep within me and sending fresh waves through my body. “You’re mine forever . . . and I’m yours forever.”

  He pulls back, lowering his mouth to kiss me before thrusting in again, a long, slow thrust that makes my heart stop. It feels so good, even as it lets my body recover from my last massive orgasm. Our bodies press against each other, skin to skin with no space between us as we slowly, tenderly give ourselves to each other.

  Time has no meaning, and my brain loses the ability to even make words as everything becomes emotion, feeling, colors, and sensations. I can feel Aubrey’s cock thrusting in and out of me, the bass thump of our heartbeats as we promise each other with more than words ever could to be there for each other. I take all the years of pain, the last vestiges of his survivor’s guilt, and his regret over leaving me, and I wash them away, swallowing them before they dissolve in the love that we make between us. Healing him, healing myself, healing us.