Page 42 of Ask for Moore

“Good,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the middle of my back before he pulled out. “Then I’ve got you right where I want you.”

I tried not to read too much into his words. People said things in the heat of passion that they didn’t necessarily mean. But I couldn’t help but wonder what that would look like…me staying in Mooreville and building a life with Ryder. I’d never felt this closeness with someone else, and it was going to be difficult to walk away from him when the time came.

I didn’t share any of this with Ryland as he rolled to his side and lifted me until I was sprawled on top of his chest. Instead, I remained silent as I listened to the beating of his heart while he stroked his fingers lightly up and down my back. His other hand cupped my ass, giving it a squeeze every now and then. And even though he’d just come inside me, his cock was still semi-hard against my hip. If he hadn’t worn me out so thoroughly, I would have been tempted to crawl between his legs to give him another blow job, but to completion this time.

“What’re you thinking about so hard down there, queenie?”

My lips curved into a smirk as I tilted my head back to answer—relieved that he’d asked the question after my brain had moved from the seriousness of my feelings to sexy ideas. “I was actually thinking about how it was too bad you turned me into a boneless heap.”

“Oh, yeah? How come?”

“Otherwise, I would have tried my second attempt at a blow job.”

He wrapped my hair around his fist and tugged my head back while doing an ab curl so he could reach my mouth. Pressing his lips against mine, he swept his tongue inside to tangle with mine until I was breathless. Then he lifted his head and growled, “I’d never turn down the chance to have your pretty mouth wrapped around my cock, but you have to know that when you sucked me off earlier, you did a fan-fucking-tastic job.”

Butterflies swirled in my belly at his praise. “I’m glad.”

“My head nearly blew off when I came just now. The only reason I’m still half-hard is because I was so close to coming earlier. My dick doesn’t know what to do with itself, but it’ll go down soon.”

I wasn’t sure if that was true or not, but it didn’t matter. He’d eased any lingering doubts I had about my sexual prowess—what little I had since this was all still new to me—and made fun of himself to do it. As I laughed softly, I once again wondered how I was going to give this—and him—up when it was time for me to return to Chicago.

21

Ryland

Even with Burkhart’s claim against my client hanging over our heads—and his asinine belief that our relationship would help him get what he wanted—the next couple of weeks were the best of my life. Waverly had been back in court, this time to argue against the county’s lawyer when he filed a motion to dismiss the individual commissioners as defendants in the claim. She lost that battle, which wasn’t a surprise to anyone but her client since they were protected from personal liability as government officials.

Word around the courthouse was that he’d pitched a fit over it before storming away. The guy was even more awful than I’d thought, and I’d love to get him out of Waverly’s life. But representing him was her job…and I never expected a solution to his dilemma with the loss he was going to take on the denied subdivision to fall in my lap.

When Baxter told me that his father was in town and wanted to talk to me about the Sanderson farm, I had been mildly curious but hadn’t expected anything to come of the meeting. Staring at the only uncle of mine who I didn’t know all that well, I felt as though I’d stumbled down the rabbit hole. “You want to do what?”

“I want to buy the property that’s at the heart of the lawsuit filed against the planning commission and Martin Sanderson.”

I wasn’t surprised that he didn’t use the shortened version, Marty, since he had always had a stick up his ass about being called Franklin instead of Frank.

“What in the hell are you going to do with a two-hundred-and-fifty-acre farm?” Tilting my head to the side, I scraped my hand over my beard. “If you want to buy a house instead of renting whenever you’re in town to see baby Franklin, I’m sure Dean could help you find something.”

My uncle waved away my concern. “We wouldn’t make the farm our home, although Penelope has been talking about buying another house here. But something closer to Baxter and Skylar. Maybe even build like our son did.”

“That brings me back to my original question…what in the hell are you going to do with two-hundred and fifty acres of land in Indiana? Just let it sit there?”

“Much to my surprise, Baxter has done quite well with his real estate investments in Mooreville. I’m sure I can come up with a suitable use for the property at some point in the future.” He shrugged. “The only important question here is whether or not it’s enough for that sleazy developer to slink away quietly.”

His offer—at a price well above what Burkhart had paid for the land months ago—made no sense. But I wasn’t my uncle’s lawyer since he was represented by a firm in New York, and he had more than enough money to cut a check this size without blinking. If he wanted to waste it on a farm he had no intention of cultivating and save my client the headache of fighting in court, then I wasn’t going to argue. “I can’t imagine it won’t be, but I’ll let you know what he says.”

“Please do.” He stood and extended his hand to me. I wanted to chuckle at how damn formal he was when any of my other uncles would have come around my desk for a hug, but I just slid my palm against his for a quick shake. “And I would appreciate it if you kept my offer between the two of us until we know if it’s accepted or not.”

My brows drew together. “Didn’t you share your plans with Baxter already?”

“That I wanted to speak with you about the land, yes. That I wanted to buy it, no.”

His answer was surprising. Ever since baby Franklin’s birth, he and Aunt Penelope had been doing what they could to rebuild their relationship with Baxter. I would have expected him to use his offer for the land as another means to show his son how much he had changed. “No wonder he was so cagey when I asked him for more details about this meeting.”

My uncle’s lips curved into a smile that reminded me of his son’s. “The only reason he let me get away with putting him off was because my grandson woke up hungry. My namesake’s cries distracted him long enough for me to slip away before he grilled me for more information.”

I laughed softly and shook my head. My humor was more about him referring to baby Franklin as his namesake when I knew damn well that he had caved to his wife’s demand not to carry on the tradition of naming son after father when Baxter was born. My cousin’s son had been named after our grandfather, not my uncle.

Unaware that I was laughing at his ridiculous boast and not how he’d been lucky to get away without answering all of Baxter’s questions, my uncle chuckled. “Of course, I won’t be able to put my son off for too long. Hopefully, the developer will accept my offer today, and I can share the good news with him soon.”

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