Page 50 of Peaches

The words blaze through me like an inferno—enough to tame my insecurity, to grip him softly before shifting over him. The sound he makes when I sink down around him catches in my own throat, and the pinch of his jaw as he watches my body move lower is enough to fill me with the deep gratification I’d almost lost hold of. To see the proof of the effect of this—even when he’s not the one in control, not the onetaking—blooms within me like a wildflower.

When I can’t possibly take any more, I roll my hips experimentally, finding the movement somehow eases Rhett in farther. He groans again, and I’m . . . enraptured. Utterly fixated on the feel of being stretched around him like this, on the sounds he makes from the way I move. I roll again, coming alive from the sensation, from the pure joy of it.

Rhett’s eyes shine bright as he looks at me, and I fall deep into his stare. I love the way he has no problem doing what he wants with me, the way it somehow still feels as muchforme as it is for him. And now . . . now I understand how chasing my own pleasure can also drive him toward his. How it can be possible, with trust and communication, to create a physical dynamic that brings us both to the edge of sanity.

He makes no move to hold me in place like he’s done before, but his hands begin a light pursuit along my skin as I shift and tilt my hips. When one curls around my breast and squeezes, I nearly lose it. But then he gives my nipple a well-timed pinch as I sink down again, rolling his hips up to meet mine, and Ishatter.

He does his best to wait, to let me keep rocking as I ride the wave of pleasure, pulsing around him and gripping tight. But soon he can’t stop his own release from barreling through him, the pressure of his hands on my waist squeezing hard as he pulls me off of him, just as he starts coming. I fall to the bed next to him, utterly spent, and watch his release with fascination.

It takes both of us a long, long while before we can move again.

* * *

When I wakethe next morning, early enough that the light streaming in through the window is still a mere whisper, it takes only seconds to realize he’s gone.

CHAPTERNINETEEN

RHETT

The ranch is most peaceful in the mornings, when the sun’s only a golden glow in the eastern sky and cold dew clings to the foliage in the trees, dampening the air. When the tails of horses swish against a quiet wind and birds start singing to each other across the pasture. My family’s land is a living, breathing thing of beauty, and to see it in the early light of dawn like this is to be silenced by it, to be made still.

Most folks go to church for the religion I find right here on these grounds, or in the corral or outer pastures. Within the very hearts of all the horses we work with and connect to. I don’t need some ancient book or pastor to teach me about the honor of a man or what it takes to make a good life—the proof is all around me. If my father hadn’t spent so long tarnishing the Bennett name—if I hadn’t followed down that same path—maybe the rest of this town would benefit from learning what we do here. Maybe if they understood the power that exists in all this wild beauty, they wouldn’t spend so much time bucking against us.

They wouldn’t call us heartless, because the truth is there’s so much heart in all of this. More heart than I ever thought I’d be capable of, that’s for sure.

Sometimes I regret my actions on the days I let the hard shit win. As much as I hate the divide that exists between my family and everyone else, I know damn well I’ve contributed to it. Much more than any of my brothers. Hell, there’ve been so many times I’ve wanted to shoot out the damn sun for how cruel life has been to my family, our land stuck in a town full of people who fear us. But despite it all, we get to call this magical place home, and I know deep in my soul that we’re lucky.

It’s no surprise I’m the first one to the barn this morning after not sleeping at all last night. My mind was way too busy to find any real rest as worry and guilt and shame rear themselves harder and harder with every passing day. Olivia, it seems, is the only comfort I can find . . . That damn girl is sinking into damn near all my thoughts. It’s the biggest con in the world to feel as safe as I’m starting to feel with her, but she’s the first person who seems to really give a shit about me.

Showing up at her house last night was a risk—one I shouldn’t have taken. She deserves a hell of a lot more than my sorry ass, and I had no business darkening her doorstep with the rage and sadness I’d been carrying. Brooks hasn’t left the house—hasn’t left Melody’s room—in four days, and I can’t fucking stomach to think about what comes next. Just like the doctor predicted: Melody’s health is rapidly declining. She sleeps most hours of the day and can’t keep anything down. Her body is deteriorating faster than any of us could have anticipated, and Brooks is out of his mind with fear. I should be ashamed of myself for spending the night with a girl when my brother is suffering.

Maybe Kasey was right to think the worst of me.

I know I need to get a hold of myself and keep my focus on my family. It’s not just Melody—money is dwindling, there’s too much work to keep up with, and I have no fucking idea how to save us. We can’t hire hands around the ranch with all the money we’re spending on hospital bills, and we can’t make money faster without more hands. The bar is doing just enough to keep us afloat, but it’s not nearly enough and it won’t last long.

“Mornin’,” Kasey mumbles as he comes to meet me at the fence line overlooking the endless sprawl of green grass around us. An Appaloosa mustang stands proud by a copse of aspens in the distance, a wild mare Layla named Stardust years ago. A quick glance at my brother proves the exhaustion I know he’s fighting: his face is still swollen with sleep, the purple beneath his eyes darker and darker with each passing day.

“Morning. You see Brooks yet?” Kasey’s been checking in on our brother first thing each day, reminding him that he’s not alone.

Kasey nods. “Just left from her room.” He doesn’t say anything else, but he doesn’t need to.

I blow out a breath, not sure what there is to say. I’ve been avoiding the main house since the doctor came to see Melody. It only deepens my shame, but I’ve been honed to cut into the enemy, not to tend to the emotional needs of the people I defend. I wouldn’t know where to start. But Kasey . . . Kasey will be who gets Brooks through.

After a beat of silence, he pulls an envelope out of his back pocket and shoves it into my chest. “Read this.”

Even through the exhaustion, it’s hard to miss the worry in his eyes. “What is it?” I look down and see the envelope’s already been opened. Addressed to William Bennett with neat, black handwriting.

Fuck.

“That lawyer . . .” Kasey starts, but I’m already yanking on the folded piece of paper from where it’s tucked inside, tilting it toward the still-warming sun so I can make out all the words.

It’s a . . . summons. Words that look a lot like what happens after someone gets arrested. “What does this mean?” I ask, face bunched in confusion.

Kasey shrugs. “I don’t know. Mom said it came yesterday. Dad hasn’t seen it yet . . . I have a feeling it ain’t good.”

I read through the letter a second time. It’s a bit different than the court orders I’ve received in the past after some of the stupid stunts I’ve pulled, but it’s just as blunt and demanding. From what I gather, it seems that the little pipsqueak lawyer has called a meeting with our father, the date and time set for next week. There’s also a lot of jargon I don’t understand, language about the ranch deed and an inheritance trust, and I have a looming feeling that Kasey’s right—this isn’t good.

“Looks like good old Stuart is trying to force that meeting he wanted.”

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