Page 45 of Wait in the Truck
She takes a step inside, then another. Her fingers glide across an old saddle slung over the railing, a breathy touch that grounds her in familiarity. I watch her shoulders drop, tension bleeding out of her frame, bit by bit.Still not enough, though.
I move in behind her, close but not touching, just enough so she feels me. Enough so she knows I’m there, a presence she doesn’t have to fight.
“What’s wrong, Wildflower?”
Her breath stutters. She bites her lip and hesitates.
I tilt my head, watching her, knowing the answer before she speaks. My fingers graze her cheek, knuckles trailing along soft skin. “Talk to me.” My voice is low and rough.
She swallows hard. “I need a distraction.”
That’s it. That’s all I need to hear.
She’s doesn’t need a fucking savior, right now. Not like she did last night. She needs something more, something dirtier, something darker to pull her away from the memories infiltrating her pretty little head. I don’t give her time to change her mind. My hands are on her before she can blink. Grabbing her hips, I haul her up onto the hood of the vintage 1964 Massey Ferguson 135 tractor that’s next to us. This beauty was Ridge’s pride and joy. Fucking his daughter on it is like giving him the middle finger from above the grave… or in his case, above the field.
Her breath stutters, thighs spreading instinctively as I settle between them.
Fuck.
I grip the metal frame on either side of her, caging her in. She’s trapped, her body burning against mine. The contrast is intoxicating—her softness and warmth against the cold, worn metal of the tractor.
She looks at me, breathless, lips parted like she’s about to say something, but I don’t give her the chance.
I drag my hands up her thighs, spreading them wider until she’s forced to feel the way I’m already hard for her. I want her to know exactly what she does to me. I need her to feel the consequences of letting me get this close. “This what you want?” My voice is a greedy rasp, words dripping with hunger.
She nods, breath hitching.Not good enough, baby. I need you to beg for it.
I grip her jaw, tilting her face. My thumb brushes her bottom lip, pressing down slightly, watching as her breath shudders against my skin. So fucking pretty. So fucking wreckable. “Use your words, Wildflower.”
Her pulse thrums beneath my fingers, a wild and erratic beat that’s just for me. She’s drowning in the moment, as she should be. I want her lost in this. Want her immersed in every fiber of this interaction until all she feels is a man possessed.
A growl rumbles low in my chest. Want isn’t a strong enough word. Need. Crave. Obsess. All more accurate descriptions.
“I wantyou, Kade. Please,” she whispers.
I tip my head forward, trailing my lips along the soft line of her throat, feeling her pulse hammer against my mouth. She tilts her chin up, offering herself to me without realizing it.
“You don’t justwantme,” I murmur against her skin, inhaling—warm, sweet, something uniquely Sage—and it’s fucking addictive. “Youneedme.”
She gasps when my teeth graze her pulse point, a shudder running through her.
“Say it.” My grip tightens, fingers pressing into her hips, keeping her locked against me. “Tell me you fucking need me as much as I crave you.”
Breathless, her nails dig into my shoulders as she clings to me. “I need you.”
A feral grin stretches across my lips.There’s my girl.
I shift my grip, pressing her down until her back is flat against the cold metal. I tug her toward the edge, lining my cock up against where she craves me most, making her feel exactly how much I hunger for her in return. She squirms, already restless, already desperate. I could tease her. Draw this out. Make her beg. But fuck, I’m not a patient man. I am impulsive, reckless, and utterly gone for the girl next door.
“Fuck, Sage,” I groan, rolling my hips against her. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done to me?”
Her head falls back with a sharp inhale, fingers twisting in the fabric of my shirt. Her body arches off the tractor like she’s starved for what only I can give her.
“You’re gonna wilt for me, Wildflower,” I promise, voice dripping with possession. A growl rips from my throat and my grip tightens as I pull her toward me, forcing her to look into my eyes when I claim her mouth.
The kiss is brutal. Desperate. Unforgiving.
I pour everything into it—everything I’ve done for her, everything I’ll keep doing. The blood on my hands. The bodies I’ve buried and disposed of. The way I’d burn the whole goddamn world alive if it meant keeping her safe.
