by Max Henry
He grasps my chin and turns my face toward him. “Since when do I give a fuck what they want?”
“Since they’ll send me to a boarding school overseas if I don’t comply with their demands.”
His hand on my hip flexes. “It won’t happen.”
“You can’t stop them.” Forcing him to loosen his grip on me, I swivel my seat and straddle his firm thighs. “If they want to send me to another school, they can. I have no say in it.”
“You could divorce your parents. Apply for emancipation.”
“Legally abandon my name?” I snap. “Are you serious?”
“You wouldn’t lose your name, just their legal right to you. Besides.” He shrugs, hands rested lightly against my arse. “You’ll eventually have my name anyway.”
A thrill courses from my heart to my gut and gets ricocheted back with a firm dose of reality. “You can’t promise that. Nobody knows what the future brings.”
The sincerity in his eyes is unnerving. “I can, and I will. Tell me when you’re ready, and I’ll make it official if that’s what it’ll take to convince you I’m not going anywhere.”
He can’t know this—me—is what he wants for sure. Our union is too new, too fragile. It’s a baby bird not ready to fly, and he wants to talk about changing nests?
“You’ve been in my life for the past four years, Greer. And all this time, I was too blind to realise that what I wanted, what I needed, was right there all along.”
“I might have been in your life,” I say softly while running my fingers down the ridge of his jaw. “But you never saw me until now.”
“Oh, I saw you.” A wolf’s grin splits his lips. “You and your colour-coordinated bows that you’d secure around your ponytail in Year 9. The new bag you toted everywhere in Year 10, even though you had a locker to store the contents. And I definitely saw the bob cut you trialled in Year 11 that showcased this glorious column of flesh.” He runs a heated fingertip along the exposed line of my throat. “I saw you, gorgeous. I just never listened.”
“To what?” I whisper, acutely aware of how I squirm on his lap.
Colts closes a hand over mine, bringing it to the centre of his chest. “To this.”
All I need do is drop my gaze to his lips, and he knows.
Arching his back off the sofa, Colt takes my mouth in a possessive declaration. His lips drag over mine, teeth nipping at my lower one before he releases a pent-up sigh and then angles his head to take our kiss deeper.
I relish the feel of his tongue sliding across mine, the way he tastes me with wonder and splendour. A groan rumbles in his throat, and I respond the only way a hot-blooded female could: by pressing my chest hard against the planes of his.
I ruled Colt out for so long purely because he’s Lacey’s brother. I did exactly as he said, seeing him almost daily and yet never taking heed to the lesson my heart tried to preach.
Sometimes the answers to life’s quandaries are the most obvious—they’re the ones that we turn a blind eye to because of how ridiculous they seem.
The guy who could save me from this hell was one trapped in the thick of it, right alongside me.
Firm hands knead my arse, Colt’s hips kicking up to meet mine as I continue to press myself against him and take all that I can from the kiss. A promise of love. A sign of dedication. A hint at perfection.
I cup my hands either side of his face, fingertips buried in his hair, and contemplate how inappropriate it would be to borrow one of the bedrooms when a deep, throaty cough breaks us from our trance.
“Can we come in?” Barrett asks, clearly amused.
Christian clips him across the back of the head. “You ruined the show.”
“Jesus,” Willow mutters, hand shielding her eyes as she ducks to relative safety in a seat on the far side of the room.
I shift my weight, attempting to scramble off Colt’s lap, yet he holds me firm.
“Not yet.”
Oh. Of course. My position hides the visible reaction between us.
Damn.
“Holler when Arthur gets here.”
I’m held against Colt’s brawn when he rises to his feet, my legs wrapping around him instinctually. He carries us from the room, eyes blazing with desire and chest still rising with staggered breaths.
Breaths that I affected. Wow.
“I’ll be sure to knock twice before I enter,” Christian teases.
“And I’ll be sure to lock the door,” Colt retorts as we cross into the foyer.
“We’re doing this?” I ask, burying my face in his neck.
His chest jolts with an amused huff. “Been waiting too long to give a fuck who hears us, Greer.”
LACEY
We left Dee’s house after Mandy messaged to say she’d find another way home, which is why I don’t understand why we’re now stopped on the side of the road while Tuck opens a Hurricane gate partially overgrown with grass.
I’ve got no idea whose property this is, or where the narrow track leads. Only that I sure don’t mind the view while I watch Tuck’s sturdy body push the resistant gate wide open, legs like pistons and arms flexing with the strain.
His physique is created from hours of manual labour, a lifetime of hard work for no more than the love of what it means. A body that is the personification of dedication and loyalty.
And what a great body that makes.
“I thought we were heading home?” I tease when he climbs back in the driver’s seat.
A wicked smile is tossed my way. “We are.”
“This doesn’t look like my front yard, Tuck.”
He navigates the Hilux over the ruts and onto the track, twisting his lips as he does. “Eh. Overgrown grass. No landscaping? It could be.”
“Shut up.” I smack his arm as I giggle, making him laugh too. “Seriously, though. Why are we here?”
“You’ll see.” He throws his door open and leaps out to shut the gate behind us.
I curse the damn tray of his ute for blocking my view.
Within seconds we’re back on the move, slowly making our way down a track that descends in stages through a copse of pine trees. The giant tyres make ease of the exposed roots and debris on the forest bed; the trail looks as though it hasn’t been used in years.
“Are you sure we’ll make it back out?” I lean forward so that I can see where the ground falls away before us.
“Who said we’re coming back this way?”
I stare at his profile, angered that even when I’m concerned for my safety, he still fills my head with illicit thoughts through his rugged appearance alone.
I’m sure if I posted a public photo of him now, it’d be pinned within minutes to hundreds of boards titled Hot Cowboys, or Cute Farm Boys. I didn’t realise how appealing a worn flannel shirt could be until he threw one over his broad shoulders.
“Not much further.”
I snap out of my lust-induced daze to discover that the tumbling undergrowth from mere seconds before has made way for the damn bank of a river.
“Are you insane?” With my hands braced against the dashboard, I lean forward to scan the surroundings. There’s no bridge. No built-up landbank. “Please tell me you’re not about to do what I think you are.”
Head twisting left to right, he appears to assess the horizon, gaze picking over various objects along the far bank. “It hasn’t changed a lot since I was here last, but always best to check.”
He gets out.
I’m mid-panic, wondering what on earth has possessed Tuck to make him bring us here, and he gets out to walk in the water. What the ever-loving hell? With his boots discarded on the riverbank, he rolls his jeans up and selects a large stick off the stones. I watch on the edge of my seat as he wades into the flowing water, using the stick to test the ground in front of him. Prodding and probing, he gets halfway before the stick vanishes below the waterline, his wrist submerged before he pulls it back up. The process continues, only slightly upstream.
A solid
ten minutes pass before he’s back in the Hilux, sans shoes and bottom half of his rolled jeans soaking wet. “All good as long as we avoid that hole.”
“Yeah. We’ll avoid it,” I say. “Because we’ll go back out the way we came.”
“Live a little, babe.” He laughs as my distress, reaching in front of the gear stick to shift a shorter one.
Shit—we’re in four-wheel drive.
“Hold on.”
The ute inches forward and, before I can form another protest, the front wheels drop off the bank with a bone-shaking thud. “Holy shit!”
“That’s the worst bit,” he appeases, focus riveted to the water that flows high enough to tickle the wheel arches. “Just a bit more and …”
The back smacks off the bank. We’re one hundred per cent driving in the goddamn river.
“That hole was to the left, wasn’t it?” He frowns as we start forward at a steady pace.
“You forgot where it was?” I exclaim, heart bashing against the restriction of my ribcage.
“Nah.” That damn smile I love so much spreads his lips showing pearly-white teeth. “I’m messing with you.”
“You bastard.” I punch him in the arm, setting him into a fit of laughter.
His ridicule works; I don’t notice we’re in the middle of the river until the water surges over the hood of the Hilux. My complaints fall silent, my attention glued to the ever-changing odds that we’ll make it all the way.
I’ve never been more incensed to kiss the solid ground as I am the second the first wheel climbs over the uneven rocks on the far bank. We bump and roll for another few metres before he stops and shifts the small lever again.
“Trust me now?” Tuck taunts.
I nod, slumping back in the seat.
He keeps the grin tickling his lips as we navigate our way through more sparse trees to a semi-clearing lined with gorse bushes and large rocks. It doesn’t seem anything special until Tuck coaxes me out of the cab and helps me climb onto the roof of the Hilux.
Nestled in a perfect gap between the branches of two trees is the most beautiful outlook I’ve laid eyes on. Treetops drop in a gentle wave down the valley to where they spread wide and frame the coastline, the touch of darker blue a splash against the pale sky.
“Is that the ocean?” I ask, a little in awe of how close it seems when it’s a solid forty-minute drive from here.
“Sure is.” The bodywork complains under his bulk as he settles himself behind me, seated with his legs encompassing mine. “You can only get to that inlet by boat.”
“You’ve been there?”
“Uh-huh.” His nose tickles my ear before he lays a gentle kiss to my neck. “Might take you someday, too.”
“It’s beautiful,” I whisper, drinking in every detail.
“You’re beautiful.” His large hands creep around my front, one splayed across the flat of my stomach while the other dives deeper.
Searching. Caressing.
Setting me on fire.
“Tuck.” His name is a question, and prayer rolled into one. “Why are we here? Now?”
I shut my eyes and relish the light graze of his touch as he dips his hand beneath the fabric of my shirt. Tuck’s worn fingertips are a brand, a sensation that reminds me of the hard-working and honest man that he is.
They’re a privilege for a girl like me, a caress so reverent that it quite literally stops me from uttering a single word.
“Because,” he starts, the tiniest waver in the word revealing his nerves. “I’m worried that if I don’t do this now—before tonight—we might never get the chance.”
I rest one hand over the top of his and turn my head a little. “You make it sound as though one unruly party could be the end of us.”
He hesitates, a long sigh leaving his nose. “Don’t you think the possibility is there?”
“I think we can deal with whatever is thrown our way,” I tell him honestly.
We’ve been through so much more than most couples in the first weeks of our relationship alone. If we can survive scandal and uncertainty such as this, then I’m pretty sure we can make it through anything.
“I didn’t say it before,” he rumbles. “But I love you too, Lace. The intensity scares me most of the time, but I wouldn’t give it up for a thing.”
All I can do is swallow to save from crying. Heaven gave me an angel on horseback the day I first laid eyes on this guy. All I want is to mean the same for him.
And as he nuzzles into my neck, hand gliding higher up my body, I get the feeling I do.
“You’re in charge, baby.”
The same words he spoke to me our first time together in the forest. I sense a theme.
“Don’t stop,” I whisper, letting my head fall back against his shoulder. “I want this.” All of it.
The way it makes my heart soar above the trees, my soul alive and glowing red-hot like an ember in his capable hands. The thrill and the promise, and the way his firm breaths at my ear seem to slow time so that all we have is this perfect moment right now.
“Whatever happens tonight,” he murmurs. “It could never change how I feel about you.”
He continues to trace under my top, taking my touch with him as he explores the soft skin beneath my breasts, tracing around the swell to cradle the weight in the arc between his forefinger and thumb.
My nipples pebble, skin humming for more of his touch, buzzing, begging for him to touch me everywhere.
The heat of his lips capture my earlobe, and I gasp, taken by surprise by the sudden contact. The hand on my stomach moves quickly. It dives between my breasts and out the neckline of my shirt to wrap around my throat.
A spike of awareness pulses between my legs, the act of possession heady in its carnal need. He wants to know I’m his, that he’s in control as much as I could stop this with a single word.
I feel loved. Coveted. Needed.
I feel special.
Nobody else makes Tuck feel this way. No other girl is here right now, in a secret spot among the beautifully scented trees, being touched by his capable hands.
Only me.
“I don’t want this feeling to end,” he whispers in the juncture of my neck and shoulder. “But you make me want more, Lace.” His teeth graze the flesh. “Everything you have to give.”
“Then, take it.” I twist my neck to we’re face-to-face. “Because I’m offering, Tuck. I want you to have it all.”
His eyes blaze and drop to my mouth. The kiss is raw—a clashing of lips, teeth, and tongues that speaks of wanton need and desperation to find the extremes of this high. The arm around me retreats, and yet I only notice when he breaks the kiss to hold something in front of me.
Something small, square, and wrapped in foil.
“What happens next is up to you.” The gravel in his voice is nothing short of addictive as he whispers in my ear. “Either you put a stop to this, and I slide you off this roof and into the seat to take you home. Or.” He tugs his bottom lip between his teeth; his forehead pressed to my temple. “You tell me you feel the same, and I show you how fucking serious I am.”
I eye the condom in his hand and then shift my gaze to his. My heart beats staccato, a rush of heat enveloping me head to toe.
I make this decision, and it leaves a mark on my soul for the rest of my life. Tuck will be my first, the guy who took my virginity. No matter where I end up or with who, nobody can take that honour from him.
The ache between my legs grows, heavy and needy as I lift my hand and wrap it around his wrist. He watches with rapt attention as I coax his hand toward me and carefully nip the corner of the foil packet between my teeth.
The packaging tears, and so does Tuck’s self-control.
With the wrapped promise held between his teeth, he leans back and grabs the hem of my shirt. I lift my arms instinctually, allowing the fabric to glide over my body and drop to the hood of the Hilux. Tuck shifts the packet to his hand, and dots kisses all over my back, the speed, a
nd fervour a heady mix that has me grasp at his thick thighs for stability.
I groan as his lips coast down my sensitive spine, one hand against the back of my neck to push me forward so he can reach as much of my body as possible. Fingers knit in my ponytail, and, using the grip to manoeuvre me, he tugs to the left.
I strain to see him in my periphery, insanely turned on by his sudden aggression.
“When I let go, you’re going to slide your goddamn jeans off, baby. And then you’re going to turn around and face me for this. Understood?”
I nod, his hand firm on my hair.
“I want to look you in the eyes when you come.”
Jesus—I almost did.
Tuck’s hand releases me from his control, and like the eager and dutiful girlfriend I am, I unfasten my jeans and shuck them down my legs until they pool on the hood with my shirt. Tuck’s legs disappear from around me, and just from the way the truck rocks, I know he loses his.
My gaze drops to my panties, still covering the quivering mess beneath. Self-consciousness has me wanting to keep them on, but desire demands it would be easier without. I cast my eye over our surroundings, reminding myself yet again that we’re utterly alone out here. There isn’t another soul in sight, no unwanted eyes on what is everything I’d ever wanted.
A guy who loves me. A memorable moment. No regrets.
As though sensing my unease, Tuck snares his shirt with his foot and brings the flannel to his hands. He gently hooks first one sleeve and then the other over my arms to provide me a little modesty.
“So, fucking beautiful,” he mutters.
I use that admiration to spur me on and remove my panties. The cold steel of the Hilux roof shocks me at first, but after a few seconds, the contrast heightens my already humming nerves.
I chance a look over my shoulder before I turn around.
Tuck sits with his weight on the one hand, the other slowly stroking his sheathed length as he watches me. He’s naked from the waist down, wearing only a worn black tank and a devilish smirk. Yet, underneath all that cocky bravado, I see it.
The same as what I feel: apprehension.
“Is this your first?” I shouldn’t ask. Shouldn’t ruin the moment if he says no.
