Chapter Seven
R osie knew that she really should stop this. That would be the wise decision.
But wisdom when it came to Ryder had gone out the window a long time ago. Back in Austin years ago, if she was going to be brutally honest about it.
And over these past few weeks, ever since they’d kissed like they were already naked in her pantry, of all places, well.
She’d felt as if she was slowly burning alive.
More alarming, she couldn’t say that she regretted a single moment of it. And now it was as if he’d reached into the depths of her mind, rummaged around in the dreams that had been haunting her for years, and found one of her favorites.
The two of them, wrapped around each other like this.
In the front seat of his truck, like a country song.
Rosie figured a girl never really knew who she was until a beautiful man had her pressed up hard against him in the dark cab of a pickup truck with the heat on and nothing else to do but surrender herself into his hands.
He had been surprisingly, deliciously talented at getting his hands in all kinds of places on the couch, while never quite breaking the rules she’d made. She should have found that to be evidence of his boundary pushing and inability to listen, but instead, she found she admired him for maintaining the letter of the law while making them both a little bit too giddy.
When she would have sworn up and down—and had—that she would never let herself get silly over a man again.
But this was Ryder.
And in her house, she was always still the mother. Mommy. At any moment, she could expect to hear one of the kids crying, so everything always felt rushed. Furtive. Like she was getting away with something and would likely pay for it—
She knew instantly that this was something different.
“Don’t you have a house somewhere?” she asked, smiling a little bit ruefully against his mouth.
“I do,” he said, still close. As if he couldn’t bear to move away any more than she could. “I have an Airstream and it’s too far away.”
Then he kissed her again, taking it even more slowly. Making it impossible to kiss him back with the same depth and greed and excitement that she could feel all over her, like some kind of delicious fever.
He moved his mouth from hers, finding a trail down her neck, and then, muttering something beneath his breath that sounded marvelously impatient—a move in the right direction, to her mind—he stripped off her coat and tossed it aside. Then the practical turtleneck she was wearing, though he did seem to take a moment of reverence as he traced the shape of it down the length of her body. But he peeled it off and tossed it aside, and then, his dark eyes rising to meet hers, he took off her bra, too.
It was only then that it occurred to her that her body was different now. Changed since the last time he’d seen it.
But any momentary twinge of something like embarrassment that she might have been tempted to feel was gone in an instant, because he made a noise that was all longing and delight, and she was surprised she didn’t come apart at the sound.
Maybe she nearly did.
He bent his head, used his hands to lift her breasts to his mouth, and then he feasted.
Rosie had nothing to do. Nowhere to go, no children to handle.
No one was going to interrupt them up here in the woods, where the local sheriff’s deputy only bothered to patrol in better weather, looking for errant teens.
There was nothing on earth to do but enjoy this man that she’d been aching for since the last time she’d seen him, in too many different ways to count—
But especially in this way, because this was even better than she remembered.
And maybe, just maybe, she could forgive herself for throwing her whole life off course, because here she was, in full possession of the knowledge of what came from this behavior, more than ready to do it again.
Rosie was straddling him on the bench seat of his truck, there was no lying to herself anymore, and all she needed to do was surrender to him.
So she did.
She arched back, throwing her hands back to brace herself on the dash. That had the glorious effect of giving him more of what he wanted while there between her legs, it allowed her to press into that hard, glorious ridge of his.
And, at last, not worry about someone walking in on them.
She didn’t know when she began to rock herself against him, or maybe she’d been doing it all along.
It felt so good, and not enough. She felt as if her body was impatient all on its own. It knew where this was headed and it wanted him so badly that it didn’t care what she was doing.
She was fully on board.
Body. Mind.
Maybe her soul too, now that she considered it.
His mouth was a magical torture. Rosie hardly recognized the sound she was making as he played with her and teased her. Taunted her, over and over, then brought his teeth into the mix just to make it a little more spicy. Just a scrape.
Just enough to make her writhe against him, her voice rough like a stranger’s.
She could feel him grow bigger and thicker against her. Even harder than before, when surely that should have been impossible.
Rosie rocked and she rocked. She felt his hands move to the front of her jeans, felt her waistband give a little with a single expert tug, and then one of his hands was sliding down the back to grab hold of her bottom to take that rocking motion to a whole new level.
It had been so long.
And he seemed to know what she needed so well.
Because she shattered, just like that. She shook against him and lost herself in the roll and tumble, dropping her head forward so her face was near his.
He kissed her and kissed her, and then everything became something of a scramble as they awkwardly stripped off clothes with hands that were a little too excited for the task. As they bumped into each other, and laughed, and paused to kiss each other hungrily, deeply.
Ryder pushed back one of the seats to lay flat, and then picked her up and moved her into the backseat as if she weighed about as much as that turtleneck that he’d tossed aside before, like a feather.
He followed, and he was a big man, but he found a way to fit them both there. It was closer. It was awkward and it was perfect and then, finally, he was on top of her once more. Rosie could wrap her legs around him, and feel the press of his hard body, his golden skin, and that beautiful, impossibly hard chest of his as he lay over her.
But all he did was stay there, hold her face in his hands, and kiss her.
Tenderly. Sweetly.
It made her want to cry.
More, it reminded her how it had been that night, when he had done something a lot like this. It had been a wild, bright burst of passion and chemistry. And then, later, they’d gotten out of the shower and he’d taken it upon himself to seat her before him, still naked, while he brushed out her hair.
Then he’d turned her, so gently, and kissed her just like this.
Rosie had taken whole years to accept the fact that it was that very moment that made her believe, so foolishly, that she’d fallen in love with him.
She was a lot older now, far older than mere years could attest, and infinitely more wise—whether she wanted to be or not. She wasn’t the same girl she’d been then, made entirely of wishes and hopes, expectations and pie-in-the-sky dreams.
This version of Rosie had two boys to raise in this world, and she’d thought all along that she’d be doing that alone. This Rosie had stopped dreaming and had gotten tough. This Rosie was certain that she could weather any storm, because she already had.
But this wasn’t a storm.
This was a tender fall of a lovely rain. It washed all over her, sweet like summer. It swept its way deep inside her, flooding her, until she thought she could feel all of those padlocks she’d put on her heart let go all at once.
As if, all this time, they’d been worried about keeping out intruders and villains and him , but he found her anyway.
One raindrop at a time.
One sweet kiss after the next.
He lifted his head. His eyes were glittering, dark and glorious. Rosie couldn’t bring herself to look away.
She thought about what she’d imagined he’d be like, once he found out the truth. All those scenarios she’d played out in her head during all of those night feedings, all of those too-early mornings.
Instead, he’d fallen in love with the boys in one fell swoop.
She’d watched it happen.
Rosie had tried to have boundaries. She’d tried to keep things civilized. She’d tried so hard.
But now she watched as he reached into the front seat of the truck and pulled protection out of the back pocket of the jeans he’d tossed aside. She watched as he rolled it on over him, winced a little, and settled himself between her legs once more.
“I want to make sure—” he began.
“I swear to God,” Rosie gritted out at him. “If you don’t—”
And she shattered all over again, into even tinier pieces than before, when he pushed his way inside.
It took a long time to come back to herself. When she did, he laughed and pulled her in closer to him so he could wrap her up, get his mouth on hers, and only then begin to move.
And this time, he didn’t take it slow.
This time, he pounded into her hard and wild, so she could do nothing but wrap her legs around him, lock her ankles tight, and enjoy the ride.
He threw her from the peak of one flame straight into another, and it was a rush, a magic and dizzying gallop—
And the next time she broke apart, he came with her.
She heard her name in his mouth as they both spun out, yet still clung to each other. She thought maybe she shouted his.
Anything was possible and everything was blurry. Rosie was limp. When she finally came back to herself, they were sitting there in the back of his truck. Ryder had somehow managed to pull on his jeans and wrap her in his flannel shirt, and now he held her on his lap.
She rested her head against his shoulder and listened to his heart beat beneath her ear.
Her hair had fallen down from its usual ruthless ponytail and he was running his fingers through it, playing with the strands.
Rosie’s heart was so full she was surprised it didn’t spill right out of her.
And she thought, this has been a terrible mistake.
But she accepted that. With one of her hands, she traced the shape of his nearest pectoral muscle, then followed it down lower so she could move her fingers over the impressive ridges in his hard, strong abdomen.
The trouble was, she had been bad at not falling in love with him that one night. Really bad at it, in fact.
And now she was in a situation that was much, much worse.
Because this was pretty much all the things she had pretended—for years—that she never wanted. She had forced herself to believe that she was better off without him, and she had believed it. She had made sure she believed it… during the light of day.
At night, always, different temptations raised their heads and made her wonder if she was just kidding herself—
But no. It was exactly this that she’d convinced herself she didn’t want, because she’d known she couldn’t have it.
Ryder here, back home in Cowboy Point. Ryder engaged with Eli and Levi, being a father, loving them. Loving them so much that sometimes she forgot that she and he weren’t together as they sat reading them stories at night, or eating dinners together.
She had pretended, ferociously, that she was perfectly fine without all this.
But that was a lie.
And it was a lie that she’d continued to cling to, before that kiss.
Though now she’d gone and ruined everything. Because what she prided herself on most of all was being practical .
It didn’t matter that there was kissing, or adventures with clothes on out there on the living room couch, because it was just a bit of silliness at the end of an evening. It didn’t mean anything. That was what she’d been telling herself.
As long as she kept it all practical, with their focus firmly on the boys, then what did it matter?
It’s fine as long as you don’t have sex with him , she had lectured herself every night when he’d left, standing there with her back pressed against the door until she heard his truck pull away. All this is and ever can be is a little bit of fun. And you deserve it.
The very last thing she needed to do was the things she’d just done, and so heedlessly. So recklessly. So deliberately .
Not because it wasn’t good, because if it could be any better it would likely kill her. But because it turned out that she couldn’t handle herself when it came to this man.
She had fallen in love with him that night in Austin. She had hated him for a lot of years in between.
And now…
Well , she told herself primly. It was just one mistake. It doesn’t even count.
But when she lifted her head, Ryder was gazing down at her with that familiar, too-hot glint in his dark gaze.
Rosie knew she should stop this, immediately.
Surely she meant to.
But instead, when he shifted her around on his lap, she offered no word of protest when he rolled protection over himself once more. Not only did she not protest, she was the one who shifted herself up on her knees and reached down between them, so she could fit him right where she wanted him.
Just like she was the one who sank down on him, immediately, and then groaned the same way he did.
With relief and delight, as if it had been years instead of less than an hour.
She knew better, she really did.
But Rosie was the one who began to move, and she was the one who set the pace, and when he told her to slow down she laughed and went faster.
Until he clamped his hands around her hips, and made her wait.
And when they finally found that white-hot finish once again, she told herself that it was fine , because it was only one night.
Just one night, out in his truck, where it didn’t even count.
And that was what she continued to tell herself, just about every night thereafter. Every chance they got.
As it turned out, they got a lot of chances. Or maybe they made their own chances, it was hard to tell.
Rosie assured herself that she could stop any time. She was positive that she could. She told herself so, over and over again, every time they set themselves on fire.
As if one of these nights, it would finally be true.