Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
Boulder
"You want something to drink?" Kelsey asks, moving toward the tiny kitchen area in her AirBNB, or whatever site she’s renting it from.
I look around, taking in the sparse space.
It looks exactly like any vacation rental would—furnished, but not overly so, and bland as hell.
Just the basics: a worn couch, a small table with two chairs, a TV that has seen better days.
Man, she really must’ve wanted to save a couple of bucks.
"Sure," I reply, still wondering what happened to put that haunted look in her eyes. "Whatever you've got."
She pulls two beers from the fridge and hands me one.
Our fingers brush, and even that small contact sends electricity through me.
Fuck, what is it about this woman?
"Nice place," I lie, popping the cap off my beer. "How long you planning to stay in this Airbnb?"
"Just until I head back," she says vaguely, taking a long sip from her bottle. "Cheaper than a hotel. I don’t have as many amenities, but I don’t need the WiFi or a huge flatscreen TV."
I notice how she doesn't actually answer my question with any specific time frame.
"So," I say, settling onto her couch, "you gonna tell me what's got you so spooked? Or are we pretending everything's fine?"
She tenses, her fingers tightening around her beer bottle. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Come on, Montana. I could tell something was wrong by the way you were texting me, and I can see it all over your face."
She chews her bottom lip, debating how much to say.
Finally, she sighs. "Just... saw someone today who reminded me of someone I'm trying to forget."
I wait, giving her space to continue if she wants to.
When she doesn't, I decide to shift gears.
"You eaten yet?" I ask.
She shakes her head. "Not hungry."
"Well, I'm starving. And you look like you could use a change of scenery." I stand up, extending my hand to her. "Let's get out of here. Get some food, maybe a few drinks. Something to take your mind off whatever's bothering you."
Kelsey hesitates, then nods. "Yeah, okay. There's a place a few blocks from here. Supposed to be good."
"Perfect," I say, pulling her to her feet. "Lead the way, Montana."
She grabs a light jacket, and we head out into the Chihuahua night.
It’s a bit chilly in comparison to how it has been lately, but we’re supposed to be getting some storms later.
I notice how she scans the street as soon as we step outside, the way her body stays slightly tense.
It's the same awareness I see in club members who've been through shit—always on alert, always watching for threats.
But why?
Why does she have this sort of guard up?
The bar she leads me to is a local spot, not one of the tourist traps.
It's dimly lit with Mexican folk art on the walls, and a small band playing in the corner.
The food smells amazing, and my stomach rumbles in response.
We find a small table in the corner, and a waitress quickly brings us menus and two shots of tequila we didn't order.
"Courtesy of the house," she explains with a smile. "For the beautiful couple."
Kelsey opens her mouth like she's about to correct her, but I beat her to it.
" Gracias ," I say, raising my shot glass to Kelsey.
She rolls her eyes but clinks her glass against mine.
" Salud ," she murmurs before downing the shot.
The tequila burns pleasantly down my throat, and I signal the waitress for two more as we look over the menus.
"You speak Spanish?" Kelsey asks, looking genuinely curious.
I shrug. "Enough to get by. Been working on it since I got to Mexico. Needed to for club business."
"How many languages do you speak?"
"Just English and shitty Spanish." I laugh. "You?"
"English, obviously. Some Spanish. And a little Gaelic from my mother."
"Right, of course you have Irish roots." I nod, remembering a slight accent that sometimes slips out, especially when she's emotional. "That explains the fire."
Her eyebrow raises. "The fire?"
"In your eyes," I say, leaning forward slightly. "The way you don't back down from shit. Irish women are fierce, from what I hear."
A small smile plays on her lips. "My mom would certainly agree with that assessment.”
"Was your mom from Ireland, or her parents?"
She forces a smile. "She lived there until she was five, or six, then her parents moved to South Dakota. After South Dakota, they went to Montana."
Our food arrives, along with more tequila shots and two beers.
I dig into my enchiladas while Kelsey picks at her tacos, still not eating much even though I’m telling her she needs to.
Three shots later, her shoulders have finally relaxed, and there's color in her cheeks again.
She's telling me about an article she read, talking about a local cat café.
I know exactly which one she’s talking about.
She tells me a customer tried to smuggle one of the café cats out in his backpack, and her laugh makes something warm unfurl in my chest.
"So this idiot thinks he's being sneaky," she continues, gesturing with her beer, "but the damn cat is meowing the entire time, and he's just pretending nothing's happening!"
I'm laughing along with her, enjoying this glimpse of a less guarded Kelsey, when a man approaches our table.
He's tall, Mexican, dressed well enough to suggest money.
" Perdón ," he says, his eyes fixed on Kelsey. "I couldn't help but notice you from across the room. May I buy you a drink?"
I feel a surge of irritation, unexpected in its intensity.
Kelsey seems taken aback by the interruption.
"No, thank you," she says politely but firmly. "I'm with someone."
The guy glances at me, dismissive. "Just one drink? You are too beautiful to resist asking."
Before Kelsey can respond, I find myself standing. "She said no, man. Move along."
The guy scoffs, turning his attention back to Kelsey. "Surely you can make your own decisions, no? Without this gringo speaking for you?"
I see Kelsey's eyes flash—that fire I was just talking about igniting.
But before she can speak, the guy places his hand on her shoulder.
It's like a switch flips in my brain.
One minute I'm standing there, the next my fist is connecting with his jaw.
He staggers backward, crashing into an empty table.
"Don't fuckin’ touch her," I growl, stepping between him and Kelsey.
The guy recovers quickly, spitting blood onto the floor. "You're going to regret that, pendejo ."
Two bouncers appear almost instantly, grabbing both of us before things can escalate further.
Kelsey's at my side, tugging on my arm.
"We're leaving," she says, her voice tight. "Now."
I let her pull me away, tossing some bills on our table as we go.
The bouncers escort us out, making it clear we're not welcome back.
Outside, the cool night air hits us but does nothing to calm the adrenaline rushing through my veins.
Kelsey's walking fast, putting distance between us and the bar.
Once we're several blocks away she whips around and glares at me like she might kill me. "What the fuck was that?"
"He put his hands on you," I say, as if that explains everything.
"I can handle myself, Boulder! I don't need you starting bar fights over me!"
"Well, excuse me for not wanting to watch some pendejo paw at you," I snap back.
We glare at each other for a moment, both breathing hard.
Then, to my surprise, Kelsey starts laughing.
It begins as a giggle, then grows until she's doubled over.
"What's so funny?" I ask, confused by her reaction.
"Your face," she gasps between laughs. "You looked... so offended. Like he'd... insulted your honor or something."
I can't help but crack a smile. "Yeah, well. No one touches what's mine."
The words slip out before I can stop them.
Kelsey's laughter dies immediately, her eyes widening.
"What's yours ?" she repeats, her voice dangerously quiet.
Shit.
I'm still riding the adrenaline high from the confrontation, plus the tequila's making my tongue looser than it should be.
"Figure of speech," I mutter, even though we both know it's not.
She steps closer, her eyes searching my face. "Is that what I am to you, Boulder? Yours?"
The air between us crackles with tension.
I should backpedal, make a joke, anything to diffuse this moment. But I don't want to.
"Maybe you are," I say, my voice low. "Maybe I want you to be."
For a heartbeat, she's perfectly still.
Then she grabs the front of my shirt and pulls me down to her, crashing her lips against mine.
The kiss is violent, all teeth and tongue, and I back her against the nearest wall, my hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise.
She moans into my mouth, the sound going straight to my cock.
"Your place," I manage to say between kisses. "Now."
We practically run the few blocks back to her apartment, unable to keep our hands off each other.
The minute her door closes behind us, I have her pinned against it, my mouth on her neck, my hands pushing up her shirt.
"I can't believe you hit him," she gasps as I bite down on the sensitive spot where her neck meets her shoulder.
"I'd do it again," I growl, lifting her so she can wrap her legs around my waist. "Anyone who touches you gets hurt."
"So possessive," she breathes, her head falling back against the door as I grind against her. "It's fucking hot."
I carry her to the bed, our clothes leaving a trail behind us.
By the time I lay her down, she's in nothing but her panties, her skin flushed and her eyes wild.
"God, look at you," I murmur, taking in the sight of her spread out beneath me. "Fucking perfect."
I strip off my remaining clothes, my cock already hard and ready for her.
She reaches for me, but I catch her wrists, pinning them above her head.
"Not yet," I say, lowering my mouth to her breast. "I want to taste every inch of you first."
She arches into my touch, a whimper escaping her as I suck her nipple into my mouth.
I take my time, moving from one breast to the other, using my free hand to trace patterns down her stomach.
When I finally slip my fingers beneath the fabric of her panties, she's already soaking wet.
"Fuck, baby," I groan, sliding one finger into her heat. "You're so damn wet for me."
"Boulder," she moans, hips bucking against my hand. "Please."
I work another finger into her, curling them just right to hit that spot that makes her cry out.
Her reaction has me throbbing, desperate to be inside her.
I release her wrists to slide her panties down her legs, then settle between her thighs.
The first taste of her on my tongue has me groaning, the vibration making her gasp.
I lose myself in pleasuring her, alternating between long, slow licks and focused attention on her clit.
Her hands tangle in my hair, her thighs trembling on either side of my head.
"I'm close," she pants, her back arching off the bed. "Don't stop."
I double down, adding my fingers back into the mix while I suck her clit.
She comes with a cry that's music to my ears, her body shuddering around my fingers.
Before she can come down from her high, I move up her body and thrust into her in one smooth stroke.
The feeling of her tight walls surrounding me nearly makes me lose it right there.
"Fuck," I hiss, holding still to keep from coming too soon. "You feel so good, Montana."
Her nails dig into my back as I start to move, setting a punishing pace that has the headboard slamming against the wall.
Each thrust draws a moan from her lips, the sound driving me wild.
"Harder," she demands, her legs wrapping around my waist to take me deeper. "I need more."
I comply, gripping her hip with one hand while the other supports my weight.
The new angle has me hitting her g-spot with each thrust, and I can feel her getting closer to the edge again.
"That's it," I encourage, my voice strained with the effort of holding back my own release. "Come for me again, baby. Let me feel you."
Her inner muscles start to clench around me, her moans growing louder.
I slip a hand between us, my thumb finding her clit and circling it in time with my thrusts.
She comes hard, her body arching beneath me, my name a broken cry on her lips.
The sensation of her pulsing around me is too much, and I follow her over the edge, burying myself deep inside her as I come hard.
For a long moment, we stay like that, breathing hard, bodies still joined.
Then I carefully roll to the side, pulling her with me so she's draped across my chest.
"Holy shit," she breathes, her voice slightly hoarse.
I chuckle, running my fingers through her sweat-dampened hair. "Yeah. That about sums it up."
As our breathing returns to normal, I find myself wondering how the hell we went from awkward morning coffee to this in such a short time.
Whatever this thing is between us, it's intense in a way I've never experienced before.
"You okay?" I ask, noticing she's gone quiet.
She nods against my chest, her fingers tracing patterns on my skin. "Yeah. Just thinking."
"About?"
She hesitates, then sighs. "About how complicated this is getting."
I can't argue with that.
Whatever's happening between us is definitely complicated, especially given the fact she’s only here on vacation.
"We could uncomplicate it," I suggest, even as part of me rejects the idea.
She lifts her head to look at me, her expression guarded. "How so?"
"Just enjoy it for what it is. No expectations, no looking too far ahead."
She studies me for a long moment, something unreadable in her eyes. "Is that what you want?"
The honest answer is no, and that scares the shit out of me.
I've never wanted more than physical release from the women I hook up with.
But with Kelsey...
"I want you," I say finally. "However I can have you."
She lays her head back on my chest, and I can feel her smile against my skin. "That's a dangerous thing to admit, Boulder."
"Yeah, well. I've never been one to play it safe."
We fall into silence, my hand stroking lazily up and down her back.
Just as I'm starting to drift off, she speaks again, her voice so quiet I almost miss it.
"My family is why I had that black eye when we met."
I freeze, suddenly wide awake. "What?"
She takes a deep breath. "When we met in Montana. The bruise you saw. My brother Benji did that when he found me. I had… left my family. Started a new life. He found me in Billings."
Anger flares hot in my gut. "Your brother hit you?"
"He's not a good person," she says simply. "None of them are—except Sam. Sam's the only decent one."
"Your family," I repeat, trying to process this. "They dangerous or something?"
She laughs, but there's no humor in it. "You have no idea."
I want to press for more details, but something in her tone tells me not to push.
Not yet.
The fact that she's sharing anything at all feels like a victory.
"Why didn’t you want to tell me any of this before?" I ask, putting the pieces together. "Are you afraid of your family? Afraid if I got involved?"
She tenses against me, and I wonder if I've pushed too far.
But then she nods, a small movement against my chest.
"Yeah," she whispers. "I didn’t want you getting mixed up in anything. It wasn’t your place. Wasn’t your problem."
I tighten my arms around her, a fierce need to protect her surging through me. "Not your place to tell me what I can and can’t do. I’d make sure he never put his hands on you ever again."
She lifts her head again, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "Somehow I have no doubt about that."