I’m jealous of this damndress.
I tug on the hem of it firmly, watching the way her breath catches, the way her pulse flutters against her throat.
She doesn’t stop me.
Doesn’t pull away. Just watches me like she’s daring me to do something about what I’m keeping inside and the emotions that I can’t seem to come to terms with.
And I’mfuriousat the thought of her bringing another man here someday.
Tomyhouse.
Tomyland.
To touchmywoman.
Whether it’s that fool Declan or someone else, I’m fucking jealous of that thought.
She draws in a breath, steadying her palms on my shoulders, but I don’t give her a second to overthink it or push me away. I lift her easily, cradling her against my chest like she was made to be there. Her legs wrap around my waist just as a bolt of lightning tears across the sky, illuminating everything for a split second.
“We need to get inside before the storm,” I murmur against the soft, smooth skin on her neck. I don’t wait for an answer. Juststart moving away from the house, the damp grass crunches under my boots, each step weighted with something inevitable as I move us toward the barn.
Because this—us—it’s going to change things.
Shift the air.
Rearrange the goddamn atmosphere.
When I reach the large, sliding doors, I roll them back and set her down gently. She takes it all in, eyes sweeping over everything, the work I put in before the rehearsal dinner to get this place in better shape for the tour we’ll give tomorrow before the wedding to the prospective brides and grooms.
“Wow… you really cleaned it up nicely.” There’s admiration in her voice, as she moves around the space, inspecting the stalls and smiling softly. She breathes in deeply. “It smells like hay and horses even though you don’t have them yet. I’ve missedthis. Can’t wait to ride again. It’s been so long.”
I step toward her slowly, tracking her movements and the way her chest rises with each breath and her blue eyes sparkle like a kid. She’s soperfect. A fucking dream of a woman, and I can’t figure out why I keep telling myself that I can’t give her everything she wants. Is it possible that I could? Is it possible that we could have something real without me fucking it all up?
“Turn around,” I murmur softly.
Her shock melts into a smile. The kind that says she wants this just as badly as I do. The confidence she wore the night that we first met is written all over her face as she obeys. Her hands brace against a bale of hay. Back arches, offering herself up like she knows I live for this. I step behind her, hands finding her hips, gripping tight. She tosses her dark auburn hair over one shoulder, looking back at me, lips parted.
“Are you finally going to fuck me?”
I nod, my voice rougher. “Yeah, baby, I am. And you’re going to take every inch of me just like you did seven years ago.”
Her eyes spark, full of challenge. “Then what the hell are you waiting for?”
Fuck.
She’s throwing my own words back at me, and damn if it doesn’t make me want her even more.
I chuckle darkly, pushing her dress up over her hips, revealing soft skin and a scrap of white lace that barely covers her ass crack and pussy.
I push her thong aside roughly, letting it rub against her clit, knowing she feels everything.
“Make a mess of these panties, baby. I’m leaving them on.”
Then I sink two fingers deep into her pussy, groaning at how wrecked she already is for me. Dripping down my fingers. Soaking for me. She squeezes my fingers giving me a preview of how good it’s going to feel once my cock is buried inside her.
I find her clit with my other hand, rubbing slow, teasing circles until she’s grinding against me, hips rocking backwards, chasing more. My cock is so hard it’s fucking painful, so I pull back just enough to shove down my pants, my fingers still inside her, still working her open.
I fist myself, dragging the bare tip against the curve of her ass, over her thighs, feeling how smooth and soft she is against my skin, howreadyshe is.
