by Kait Nolan
“Are you thinking about it now?”
“Hard not to. Which is scary as hell.”
“Change often is. Come up to the house with me. I want to tell you a story.”
They slipped out of the truck and he took her hand for the walk up the hill to his little cabin. She loved the feel of his broad, work-roughened palm against hers. That blend of strength and gentleness in those hands were so representative of the man himself. The one who’d admitted he was crazy about her. The knowledge made her giddy, and she hoped that meant she’d be feeling those hands on the rest of her before the night was through.
“You asked me the other day why I didn’t stay in the Army after becoming a Ranger. That wasn’t the right question. The question is why I went into the Army in the first place.”
“As much as you love horses, I wondered.”
“I never knew my father. He wasn’t ever involved and Mama married Kevin when I was about three, so I don’t remember anybody else. He was the one who raised me. When he was around, anyway. He was career military, gone on deployments a lot of the time, so most of the actual parenting was done by my mom and Walter.”
“Who’s Walter?”
“Walter Perkins. He was the head trainer and something of a surrogate father to me when Kevin was away. ” He unlocked the door and let them inside, heading straight for the coffeepot. “Make yourself at home.”
Laurel shut the door and paused. The house was barely a thousand square feet, with an open-floor-plan living room and kitchen, and a short hall that led to what were probably a couple of bedrooms and a bath. The furniture was minimalist, with a La-Z-Boy recliner and what had to be a second-hand sofa clustered around a coffee table made of reclaimed wood. Other than some kind of horse magazines loosely stacked on the table, there were no knicknacks, no pictures, nothing that showed personalization or permanence. Because he was just that minimalist or because he didn’t let himself believe he’d get to stay anywhere?
“Sorry for the bachelor chic decorating. I don’t exactly bring people up here, and I don’t need much for just me.”
Conscious that he might feel embarrassed because of what she came from, Laurel grinned. “Are you kidding? I nabbed my granddaddy’s La-Z-Boy for my first apartment. I love that chair. It’s perfectly broken in and has hosted many a nap.” She crossed over to lean against the island, wanting to get him talking again. “Get back to your story.”
Sebastian methodically measured out coffee grounds and added water to the machine. When it began to gurgle, he kicked back against the counter opposite her, curling his hands tight around the edge in an uncharacteristic show of agitation.
“A few weeks before I graduated high school, Mama and Walter went to deliver a horse that’d been sold. On the way back, they were hit by a drunk driver. My mother was killed on impact, and Walter died in the ambulance.” She saw the quick slash of pain rip through him, even as he tried to mask it.
Horrified, hurting for the boy he’d been, Laurel pushed away from the island, crossing over to wrap her arms around him. “I’m so sorry, Sebastian.”
For a moment he only stood there, wooden. She could only imagine the fear and anguish he was remembering. At last, he bent, pulling her closer and burying his face in her hair. They stood that way, in silence, until the coffeemaker beeped. Even then, he was slow to release her.
“Kevin was deployed at the time. It took him more than a week to make it back to the States.”
Alone. He’d been alone through all of it. The idea of it had a knot of tears forming in the back of Laurel’s throat, but she held them in as he kissed her brow and turned to pour the coffee.
“After the funeral, he didn’t know what to do with me. And why should he? He’d been gone more than he was home. But we were all each other had left. There was no money for college, even if I’d been interested in that. The people Mama had worked for offered me a job, but I couldn’t see staying there without her or Walter. It hurt too damned bad. So when Kevin suggested I consider enlisting, I did.”
She couldn’t even imagine it. Going to boot camp with that loss still raw and no support at all.
“It finally gave us something in common. And I got it into my head that if I made it to the Rangers, became the best of the best, that he’d be proud of me. I didn’t see or hear from him a lot during those months. He was deployed and I was working my ass off. When I graduated Ranger school and got assigned to my battalion in the 75th, I managed to set up a video chat to tell him. Know what he said?”
Laurel accepted the mug he offered. “What?”
“‘Good for you. That makes you a grown-ass man who can take care of yourself now. Watch your six and have a good life.’”
The man was supposed to have been Sebastian’s father. His family. And he’d just written him off? Laurel couldn’t fathom it. Outraged, she set the coffee down with a thunk. “Have a good life? What the hell was wrong with him?”
Sebastian cupped his own mug between his palms. “I thought it was the grief talking. So I applied myself to the job with the same dedication I’d given to the training. I figured I’d work my way up the ranks, and then he’d see. I was good at it, and I ended up in a unit with Harrison and Ty. I found a second family. That part was good. But Kevin…it took me years to accept that he never actually thought of me as his son. And at that point, I realized I’d been doing all this shit for the Army, not because I believed in it, but in a vain attempt to impress somebody who was never going to be impressed. So I got out.”
To do that much work, put in that much effort, doing what was arguably one of the hardest jobs in the world, only to realize it was all for naught. Laurel couldn’t imagine it. But she was starting to see where he was going with this story.
“And then you came here?”
“Not at first. I spent about eighteen months drifting. Working odd jobs. Trying to get a handle on my shit. All the stuff that I did in the name of duty—a duty I didn’t actually feel that bone-deep call to do—that really fucked with my head. It had some serious consequences for me, trauma I’m still dealing with. Stuff I expect I’ll always be dealing with. But I’m telling you all of this to illustrate the futility of living to please someone else. The real crime, as it relates to you, isn’t in using your gifts on a different, less obvious path, but in using them to serve somebody else’s ideal, in a life that isn’t going to satisfy you. And that’s why I keep pushing you about this. Because I don’t want that for you.”
His pivot made it clear that he was done talking about himself. He wasn’t looking for comfort or sympathy. This had all been about illustrating his point, so she did what he wanted, shifting mental gears back to her own situation.
“I don’t want that for me either.”
“What do you want?”
He’d asked her that so many times since she’d come to Eden’s Ridge. Each time, fear had held her back from really considering the question. But tonight…tonight she felt like she finally had an answer. Or part of one, at least.
“I’m not sure. But it’s not just that I don’t want the job in New York. I don’t want to be a lawyer. I don’t want to be what my father wants me to be.” She blew out another breath and felt like her next inhale was freer, easier. “God, I really mean it. I don’t want to be a lawyer.” It was a huge thing to admit. To him. To herself. Because it meant finding a new path, a new plan.
“It’s not too late to change. I did. And maybe I’m still figuring out what that new life looks like, but I made the choice. You just took the first step. How’s it feel?”
She considered the question. Considered, too, the man who’d pushed her past her fear to get to this point. She wouldn’t have gotten here without him.
“Like a weight’s been lifted. It’s scary and exciting. And…it feels like something worth celebrating.”
As she looked up at him through lowered lashes, Sebastian’s blood began to heat.
He’d held off and held back, wanting to earn her
trust, to convince her she could and should do something other than what she’d been working toward.
Mission accomplished.
But that hadn’t been the only reason he’d held back. He’d thought he could keep a part of himself separate. That he could stay emotionally uninvolved, so that when she left, it wouldn’t hurt. But she’d blown that all to hell tonight, with her grand plan and her unquestioning faith that he could pull it off. No matter what, it was going to cut him off at the knees when she walked away. So he’d take what she offered, give them what they’d both wanted from the start.
Very deliberately, he set his coffee aside and slipped her mug from her fingers. “That definitely feels like something worth celebrating.”
He slid his palms along hers, absorbing her shiver as he folded his fingers around her slim, delicate hands. “You know, I told myself I wasn’t going to do this. I was going to maintain some boundaries.”
A flicker of irritation clouded her expression. “For my own good?”
He shook his head, gaze steady on her face. “For mine. I don’t let myself get attached to people, and I don’t do meaningless encounters. I knew from the beginning that being with you could never be meaningless. You aren’t a one-night fling sort of woman.”
One dark brow winged up. “What am I then?”
His thumbs traced circles on the insides of her wrists, feeling her pulse jump. “You’re a fight-all-the-dragons-in-her-name-and-take-her-home-to-Mom kind of woman. And one night or one week will never be enough.”
“Oh.” She was an incredibly articulate woman, always ready with a comeback, and Sebastian found great satisfaction in reducing her to monosyllabic shock for a second time in one night.
“I told myself it would be worse if I let myself have you and knew what I’d be missing when you go. But hell if I can walk away from you. So if you don’t want this…If you aren’t absolutely sure, you’re the one who’s gonna have to step back.”
The shadow in her eyes faded as she stepped forward, closing the distance between them. “I want this. I want you.”
On a groan, he closed his lips over hers, swallowing her sigh. He was already hard as he drew her in, pulling her tight against him. She shifted to rub her hips against the bulge in his jeans and opened for a deeper kiss, sliding her tongue against his. The taste of her flooded into him, sweet and sinful, leaving him dizzy and desperate for more.
He needed skin. Needed to feel the warmth of her in his hands, against his tongue. Tunneling beneath her sweater, he released the catch of her bra and filled his palms with her breasts. They were heavy and perfect, the nipples already drawn tight with desire as he circled them with his thumbs.
“Oh, God.” Her eyes blurred and she sagged a little as he traced each taut peak. “More. Definitely more.”
On board with that, Sebastian stripped off the sweater and bra, baring her chest to his hungry eyes. Her creamy skin was flushed, the dusky rose of her areolas giving way to deeper pink nipples.
“Gorgeous.” Bending, he took one tight bud into his mouth.
Laurel whimpered, pressing closer as he licked and sucked, each pull making her rock her hips against his, and driving him just a little more crazy. Skating his hands down her spine, he slid them into her pants, thanking God for leggings as he slid them and her underwear past the curve of her hips. Releasing her nipple with a light scrape of his teeth, he knelt, sliding off her short boots and easing the fabric down the rest of the way.
Her breath went ragged as he helped her step free. Seeing her there, unabashedly naked in his kitchen, her eyes full of lust and longing, had his dick going impossibly harder. He ached with the need to lift her onto the nearest horizontal surface and drive himself into her. But that would be over too quickly. He wanted to draw this out. Make it last.
“Such soft skin.” Sebastian skimmed his fingers from her ankles up the backs of her legs, thinking of all the ways he wanted to worship her beautiful body. But he could already scent her arousal, and that overrode everything else. “I’m going to kiss every inch. But right now, I need to taste you. Hold on to the counter.”
“Oh.”
Again with the monosyllables. It made him smile. But when she didn’t move, he looked up to find her eyes closed, her expression strained.
“Laurel?”
Her eyes snapped back to his, pupils swallowing up almost all the color of her eyes. “What?”
“You okay with this?”
She ran her fingers through his hair, lightly scraping her nails over his scalp in a way that had him leaning into her touch. “I am very okay with this.” With one, last, nipping kiss, she leaned back and gripped the counter.
Sebastian kept his eyes on hers as he shouldered her legs apart, making sure she was still with him as he kissed his way up the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. She trembled and swallowed. Nerves, not fear. Satisfied she was okay, he spread her folds and licked. Her hips bucked against his mouth and she moaned.
“So fucking sweet.” Leaning closer he hooked his hands behind her thighs and set to work, seeing to her pleasure with the kind of ruthless, single-minded focus he gave to a mission.
Her hands came away from the counter, threading in his hair as he drove her wild.
“More,” she gasped. “Please, more. I need…I need…”
Sebastian slid two fingers inside her as he circled her clit with his tongue and she broke, flying over that first brutal peak screaming his name.
Her legs trembled as he lifted his head and shot her a cocky grin. “I never imagined you were a screamer.”
Sagging back against the counter she stared down at him with heavy-lidded eyes. “Neither did I.”
Rising, he skimmed his hands up the back of her legs, over her ass. “That was pretty much the hottest fucking thing ever. I want to hear you do it again, when I’m inside you.”
Another shudder ran through her as she hooked a hand around his nape. “Then hurry up.”
Sebastian boosted her up, wrapping her legs around his waist and kissing her as he strode with purpose to the bedroom. He lowered her to the bed, pulling away only long enough to break land speed records striping out of his clothes and grabbing a condom from the bedside table.
“Hurry.” Her word was a chant in his blood as he stretched out over her and settled in the cradle of her hips, his erection just brushing her entrance.
“Hurry.”
She was drenched and ready. He’d seen to that. He could slide inside her in one hard, fast thrust, and drive them into oblivion. But as he ranged over her, looking into the face illuminated by light spilling in from the hall, he paused, wanting to etch the moment into memory. This brilliant, beautiful woman wanted him. Needed him.
And he needed her.
The truth of it washed over Sebastian and left him reeling. This was more, so much more than what he’d intended.
She cupped his jaw. “Sebastian.”
He saw his own vulnerability mirrored in her eyes and lost some of the frenzy. So he didn’t hurry. Lacing his fingers with hers, he fixed his gaze on her face as he slowly flexed into her, one slow millimeter at a time. He drank in every nuance of her expression as he filled her. The friction was an exquisite torture, and his body trembled with the effort to maintain control.
When he was buried to the root in her tight, wet heat, he dropped his brow to hers. “Fuck, you’re perfect.”
Her body clamped around him as she arched up, tightening her legs around his waist, and his eyes all but rolled back in his head.
“You feel so good.”
Sebastian kissed her again and began to move, taking everything she gave of her body and more, until they were both gasping, and she was begging. Harder. Faster. More. More. More.
And as her orgasm struck her like a blow and the hard clench of her body dragged him over behind her, he knew when it came to this woman, he’d always have the same demand.
More.
Chapter 8
“Well, th
e bank or executor or whatever is gonna have their work cut out for them.” Sebastian stood beside Laurel as they both took in the sprawling farmhouse with the peeling paint and warped porch steps. The whole thing had an air of sad neglect that probably spoke to the age and infirmity of Josiah Massey. He didn’t want to think about what he was going to find in the larger-than-expected barn about fifty yards from the house. Not that it mattered. The property wasn’t his problem. His only concern was the horse.
Hunching her shoulders against the cold, Laurel shoved her hands into her pockets and continued to study the house. “Oh, I don’t know. The place has good bones. It could be really cute with a fresh coat of paint and some window box planters. Maybe a porch swing. It just needs some TLC.”
Amused, Sebastian glanced over. He knew Laurel well enough by now to understand that, despite her upbringing, she wasn’t snobbish in the least. But her attitude still surprised him. “I wouldn’t have expected you to be into the idea of a fixer-upper.”
She shrugged. “I appreciate a house that’s really a home, not a showpiece. The house I grew up in was featured in architectural magazines. God forbid we leave shoes by the back door or our beds unmade. What would people think?” She tipped her head back to take in the expanse of the house, and Sebastian could practically see her assessing, making lists of what needed to be done. “A place like this looks lived in. Like you could kick your feet up on the porch rail and relax with a glass of lemonade or a mug of hot coffee. It’s why I’ve loved visiting Logan’s farm. There I can relax and just be. Hanging out with the dogs, walking around in sock feet and ancient jeans and my most comfortable sweater.”
That was the real Laurel, Sebastian realized. The one who didn’t need artifice or social graces or worry about appearances. The one who’d shared his bed last night as if she’d always been there.
When she headed toward the house, Sebastian found himself following.
