Page 110 of From the Ashes
Colton of course was mad he couldn’t stay the night in the camper, but to Alexis’s credit,again,she knew Walker and I would want to celebrate—and that it would be impossible to do that with a nine-year-old sleeping four feet away. Since he’ll be on summer break in a short while, we promised him he could come with us when we travel to Texas, and Alexis will have a chance for alone-time for the first time since Colt was born.He’ll be spending a week with Walker’s parents and a week with us.
Walker was right. As soon as his parents were made aware of their grandson, they hopped on a plane and couldn’t get himandAlexis into their arms fast enough. Since then, they’ve made several trips to visit, they FaceTime him on a regular basis, and they’ve even set up a college fund for him. It’s been incredible to watch everyone rally around Alexis and the little boy we all love so fucking much.
I’m already looking forward to that week.
But right now, my attention is focused on the man who is once again across the bonfire from me. This time he’s just tossing his beer bottle in the recycling can before coming back over to my side, but as he turns, our eyes lock, and it takes me back to the first time we ever met.
Discreetly, he nods his head behind him where all the trucks, trailers, and campers are parked in a huge field, turns his back on me, and starts walking away.
Wasting no time, I excuse myself from the conversation I’d been roped into and follow him into the darkness until we’re standing on the far side of my truck, facing away from the bonfire. Pressing my body weight into him, I wedge a thigh between his legs and plant my hands on either side of his head.
“I’ve got something better than that beer you were drinking, if you’re interested,” I tease, recalling that first fateful night together.
Walker answers by sinking to his knees right in the grass. It’s dark out and my truck is huge, offering decent cover. Also, since I’m standing, I’ll see anyone approaching with plenty of time to pull Walker to his feet.
“I know exactly what you have to offer, and I want every fucking inch of it,” he growls, beginning to undo the button on my jeans.
Eight weeks is all that separates us from the one-year anniversary of when he walked back into my life after the most brutal absence known to man.
It’s a damn good thing I have a plan to make sure he never leaves me like that again.
As soon as my jeans are past my ass, he’s swallowing my cock. The abrupt sensation has me jerking my hips forward involuntarily and I hear him gag.
“Shit. Sorry, baby.”
I’m delirious with lust and love for the man on his knees. His mouth feels like heaven and I want more, but I’m already dangerously close to coming, yet, I can’t pull away. Bracing my forehead on my forearms—which are now planted against the driver’s side window—I look down, watching Walker make love to my dick with those irresistible lips.
Needing to touch him, I push off the window and thread my fingers through his hair, his cowboy hat having been tossed on the ground next to him.
“Fuck, DeVille. Thatmouth,” I groan.
He hums his pleasure over making me lose my goddamn mind, and I almost go the fuck off. Grabbing his chin, I pull out of his mouth and force his gaze up to me. “Get inside.” I motion my thumb toward our home for the next five months.
I need him inside this camper so I can get inside his ass.
“Yessir,” he says, really playing up his Texas accent as he swipes his hat off the ground.
Following him inside, I push him to the very back until he falls on the bed. The relief I feel knowing no one is going to come looking for us—and even if they do, us fucking each other is no longer newsworthy—is so great, it makes me a little punch drunk.
Walker’s shirt gives easily when I pull the sides in opposite directions. Moving on to his boots, I get them off in recordtime and slide his jeans and boxers down his legs before shedding my own clothes.
Once we’re naked, I take a second to stop and actually think about what I’m doing, and my palms start to sweat. I know it’s what I want so I’m not nervous for that reason, I’m just…what if it’s not whathewants? Of course, that’s a possibility with any proposal, but I have to know. The need to make Walker mine for the rest of our lives is a palpable thing living in my chest, and it won’t leave me alone until he says yes.
Our camper isn’t top of the line because Walker wouldn’t let me go crazy, but it’s nicer than a lot of houses. Our bedroom looks similar to our room at home, except it has a fireplace. There are also nightstands on either side of the bed.
“Walker, grab the lube, will you?” I ask.
He twists to reach for the nightstand, then looks back over his shoulder at me, pausing mid-movement.
“Did you just call me Walker?”
Confusion paints my features. “Um, yeah? That’s your name.”
“You only call me Walker in the arena. In bed, you call me baby, cowboy, or Quick Shooter—andoccasionally, DeVille, when you’re on a power trip.” He’s eyeing me like he knows something’s up.
“Just get the damn bottle before I lose a nut, will you?”
His eyes narrow and I blow out a breath, knowing the time has arrived.
