Page 119 of When We Were Us
“Hell, I’d sell a kidney to have you help out at the ranch. Working with you, doing what I love with the woman I love? That’s my wildest dream come true. You wanna switch gears and work with Finn to build the best damn bed-and-breakfast the world has ever seen? I’ll support whatever you decide?—”
“I want it,” she says quietly.
I stare down at her; not sure I heard her right. She lifts her eyes to mine. “I want it all, Hank.”
My knees almost buckle, and I hold onto her like she’s a life preserver and I’m a drowning man. I hold onto her like it’s vital for my survival.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
hank
Tears glisten in her eyes.“I want you. I want Timber Forge. I want Sunday dinners with your family, Friday night bonfires, and dates shoveling cow shit. I don’t know what to do about the rest of it, but I’ll figure it out, so long as I have you.”
One minute, she’s speaking, and the next, my arms go around her back, pulling her against me. She grips the front of my shirt in both fists, pressing closer still. Her mouth is soft, pliable, and sweet when I kiss her. When I swipe my tongue over her bottom lip, she opens for me.
She hums low in her throat, and then her hands run up my chest and snake around my neck again, fingers sifting into my hair. She nips at my bottom lip with her teeth and the sensation goes straight to my groin.
I turn and sit back on the tailgate, pulling her onto my lap. With one hand in her hair, I tilt her head, getting a better angle on her mouth. My other hand runs down the back of my jacket she still wears, and lower to her cutoff shorts to grip her ass.
And God, this feels good.Shefeels good.
Her breath is coming in little pants across my lips, and I can feel her warm skin through her clothes, but it's not enough. When I slip my fingers under the hem of her tank top and run them up her back, she arches toward me, pushing those perfect tits into my chest, and I swear I’ve never felt anything like this.
My heart feels like it will pound right out of my chest when she pushes up on her knees and lifts one leg to slide her pretty little thighs around my hips, straddling my lap. Her hands are on my face, and her long blond hair is everywhere around me. She smells like…like strawberries and sunshine, and as she lowers herself down, I can feel the warmth of her pressed against me, making my cock jump.
She gives a satisfied moan as I claim her mouth and grip her ass in both of my hands, squeezing. She knocks my hat off in an attempt to get closer, and then she’s grabbing a handful of my shirt and dragging it up my back.
I let go of her with one hand and reach back to yank it the rest of the way off, tossing it to the side. I pull her against me, but she stops me with a hand on my chest, and I swear to God, this woman will be the death of me.
Tentative fingers reach out and brush across my chest, her eyes tracking her fingers. I almost jump out of my skin when she brushes across one of my nipples. Just like at the bar. But this time, it’s not just her hands exploring, her eyes are, too.
Emotion chokes me. The way she’s looking at me, drinking me in…it’s overwhelming. I’m so fucking gone for this woman, and having her hands on me, her eyes on me, is the most glorious kind of torture. Death by eye-fucking.
“You’re killing me, baby.”
Her eyes flutter closed, and she breathes out, “Good. You feel so good.”
She rocks her pelvis against me in a slow, seductive rhythm. The friction damn near makes my eyes roll back in my head, and then her tongue is in my mouth. Her nails scratch against my scalp as she tugs on my hair and a low groan vibrates in my chest.
“Jesus, Wren,” I breathe out. “You feel so fucking good, too.”
When she reaches for the hem of her tank top, I stop her, knocking her hands away. I slide my hands up underneath it and over her ribs, taking the fabric with me. She shakes out her hair after I pull it up and over her head.
Her lacy, white bra leaves little to the imagination, and I can just make out the outline of her nipples. Bracketing her rib cage with my hands, I rub my thumbs over her, teasing them into perfect pebbles.
“Hank, I need—” She continues her slow assault on my cock with each rock of her hips and it is mind-fuckingly perfect.
When she reaches her hand between us and fumbles for my zipper, I grab my hand to stop her.
I can’t believe I’mfuckingstopping her. Her eyes are hooded with raw vulnerability and complete trust when she looks down at me, and I almost say fuck it. But I know that no matter how good this feels in this moment—and it feels really,reallyfucking good—I need a minute.
I’ve never rushed with Wrenley before, and I won’t now. I’ve been thinking about this moment forliteral years,and now that I’ve had her mouth and her body on mine again, we’re going to do this right.
I pull away and push her hair away from her face. The action causes goosebumps to break out across her shoulders and it’s one of my favorite things.
‘What is it?” she asks, her brow furrows deep in the middle and her hands rest on my shoulders.
I drop my forehead to hers and say, “I can't believe I’m actually saying this, but I think we should stop.”
