7. Piper
CHAPTER 7
Piper
D alton’s abrupt exit is ringing in my mind like a hammer blow.
I blink, looking over at where Tate and Brent are staring at Dalton’s empty seat.
This is it. I screwed everything up.
The thought sends me right over the edge, and I put my hands on my face to cover the tears that are absolutely leaking out of my eyes right now.
“Piper?” Brent asks.
Oh, no. If he comes any closer I’m going to….
Brent’s strong arms encircle me. Well. Here it comes.
A huge, racking sob comes out. My shoulders shake, and Brent’s arms tighten around me. He smells so good. Like soap and sunshine and something that’s just… Brent.
God. I’m so freaking turned on by him. It’s not funny. Nothing about this situation is funny.
“Talk to us, Piper,” Tate says from somewhere next to me, and I feel his warm hand on my shoulder.
“I… just… want… to…” I sniff.
“It’s okay,” Brent says, pulling back to rub soothing circles on my back. “You can tell us anything, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart. He’s never called me that before.
“I just didn’t want to ruin this, and now I did!” I cry.
Tate moves closer and tugs me against his chest. “You didn’t ruin anything, baby.”
“Dalton—”
“Is Dalton,” Brent says firmly. “He probably had one too many feelings and needed to go figure himself out for a second.”
“But he walked out right after the schedule…”
“We’ll figure it out, Piper. But I promise you that Dalton isn’t running away. You didn’t ruin anything. It’s all good,” Brent murmurs.
It’s not good. I decided to ask my best friends that I’ve known for my entire life to cross a huge boundary. I’ve asked them to have sex, with me, and that’s what ruined it. I have to fix it.
Pulling back, I sniffle a little and wipe my eyes. “It’s okay. I know that it was a lot to ask. I mean, it’s not like we’re… like that, you know? Like, you’ve never asked me for more than being a friend, so it probably was weird to be asked for the, uh… old-fashioned way.”
Brent makes a noise, and when I look up at him, his green eyes look a little darker than they usually do. “We have been friends for a really long time, Piper.”
“I know. I should have been a little more careful. I’ll make the appointment with the fertility doctor?—”
“No,” Tate says.
I frown, looking at him. Tate is normally so bubbly. For him to be so serious is… odd.
Brent clears his throat. “I think what Tate is saying is that’s not necessary. We’ll do whatever you want, Piper. If you think that it’s best to do the… schedule, then we’ll do that. It’s always whatever you need, baby.”
His voice is so low. It’s kind of raspy, and I shiver as it feathers over my skin.
“Hell… yeah. I mean. Yes,” Tate repeats. His voice is low, too.
Looking between the two of them, I feel a little less worried. And a lot more turned on. But I have to make sure I don’t ruin this.
“Listen. I really appreciate it. I’m not sure, but I think that the situation might be… a little more urgent than I’d like, so… yeah. The sooner we can start, the better, I think.”
Tate’s eyes look more sapphire than their usual cornflower. Brent’s are… dark, and his pupils are blown. His hands reach for the schedule that I made, and he pulls it closer. He reads it, then looks up at me sharply. “Next Wednesday?”
“Yeah. Uh. That’s when the, um… time is.” I hate this. I hate being so deliberate about it. I hate saying it. I hate that Dalton isn’t here. “I’ll take Dalton off, for now?—”
“Don’t,” Brent says, the sound kind of strangled. “Don’t. Keep him. I promise, Pipes, he’s fine.”
I’m not so sure.
“You said something about no kissing?” Tate says.
I look over at him. The muscles in his neck are kind of standing out, and he looks… strained.
Quickly, I grab the sheet of paper with my other rules on it. “Yeah. To keep things from getting too weird, I thought we could do no kissing. No like… extra touching. And um. I guess no talking about it?”
Brent grunts.
“Yeah. I mean, I know I just, like, don’t think that it’s something that we need to really be going on and on about, because it’s not something that we can let interfere with our friendship. It’s just for the one… purpose… the thing. You know…” My voice trails off.
The thing. Good job, Piper.
“No kissing,” Brent repeats. His voice is kind of shocked. Like he can’t believe I would suggest that.
“Definitely no kissing. Oh, and if you are seeing someone or you want to start seeing someone, you can totally do that. I won’t be offended. It’s your life, and I don’t want to interfere with it, right?”
It kind of makes my chest hurt to think of any of the guys dating someone new. As a matter of fact, I don’t think I’ve ever heard of any of them dating someone. Ever.
Huh.
“You don’t have to worry about that, Piper,” Brent groans. “Seriously. This is… top priority.”
That makes my face flush. “Brent. Your business is top priority. This is like a side thing.”
“Cows can wait. You’re important, Piper.”
“Thank you,” I murmur. “But I want to make sure that I’m doing my job to help you out, because this is a cool plan?—”
I’m interrupted by the slam of the front door. Dalton is back.
He storms into the room, looking for all the world like he just ran a marathon. His chest is heaving, and his eyes are wild.
The three of us freeze, looking at him. I can see Tate and Brent tense.
Dalton looks down at the schedule, then up at me. “Next week?”
I nod.
He squints at the calendar, then at Brent and Tate. Very clearly, so clearly that I’m actually kind of surprised because he usually speaks quite softly, he says, “I’m doing it. But fuck what the schedule says. I go first.”
Then, he turns and leaves. Again.
This week has been the most awkward week I’ve ever had.
I can tell that Tate and Brent are trying not to be weird. I’ve spent almost every day on the farm, mostly because I’m determined not to let my request ruin our friendship. And, of course, I’ve been helping the two of them build up their brand.
It was easy, with Tate. The food he makes is incredible, and he wasn’t kidding when he said that people were willing to buy the hog. He literally has a hundred pre-orders for it. Roasting a whole hog. The pictures were great. A little gross, since you know… there was like a whole pig there, but overall effective.
Brent’s work with the cows was a little trickier. Cows are cows. It’s kind of hard to make them cool or sexy, but I ended up settling on Brent as like… the ultimate cowboy. I have lots of videos of him in slow-motion, driving the cows in and out of their pen, and a couple where he’s just petting them.
Are they thirst traps? Yes.
I haven’t let him see the comments yet, but the comments are… uh. Thirsty. To the point where it’s kind of not really about the cattle anymore, and it’s just women making comments about how hot he is. Kinda losing the point here.
Eventually, I find a hashtag for cows where someone called them ‘grass puppies,’ and that veers us back into territory where people aren’t just slobbering over Brent.
I mean. I can’t blame them. But it also makes things hard for me because… yeah.
I’m doing my best not to think of Brent in any kind of sexual way.
I’m failing at it. Spectacularly. But I’m still trying.
The doctor confirms that while I have lots of eggs, they’re not very high quality, meaning it’s unlikely that I’ll get pregnant quickly. She offered me lots of routes for treatment, including a very non-old-fashioned way, and the pamphlets she gave me on all kinds of treatments and shots and all kinds of things are stacked on my kitchen.
I haven’t looked at them. I know that it’s probably na?ve of me to think that this is going to work, given the whole ‘low-quality egg’ situation, but yeah.
I’d rather try than have to confront that particular pile of paperwork, honestly.
Now, it’s the first day that I’m in my ovulation window. I marked it on my little paper this morning. I kind of hate knowing this much about my body, but I guess I do.
As requested, I changed the schedule so that Dalton can take the first… turn.
He’s coming over. Tonight. And I am a god-awful wreck.
I’ve done a million chores. I’ve cleaned the kitchen so much, everything is sparkling. Grout in the bathroom? Bleached. Baseboards? Sparkling. I even reorganized my spice cabinet six times, and the chickens are actually annoyed with me because I’ve cleaned every square inch of their coop today.
Dalton will be here at five-thirty. And it’s four-fifty-five. I have too long.
This is going to be so weird.
I need something to make it less weird.
Wine. I need some wine.
I throw open my fridge, looking for anything that will help. I have a bottle of white that I’ve been using for cooking, and I grab it. I don’t bother with a glass. Instead, I take a sip straight from the bottle. And by a sip, I definitely mean a gulp.
The wine is a little closer to vinegar than I would normally drink, so I grimace.
“Wow. That will put hair on your chest,” I whisper to myself as I take another drink.
“Hair?” a deep voice rumbles.
I yelp and jump about six feet in the air. Wine splashes everywhere, and I hear Dalton move quickly.
“Hey. Sorry,” he murmurs, his hands landing gently on my shoulders. I turn so that I’m facing him, but his hands stay firmly there.
I take a deep breath, trying to calm the nerves that are ricocheting through my body. “Shoot, Dalton. How did you get in?”
He looks down. “Door was unlocked.”
Oh. Yeah. I don’t really lock it. Who would come steal anything from me, all the way out here? “Oh.”
“I’m early.”
“You are.”
“I can go?—”
“No,” I cut him off. “No. Please. Don’t go.”
I’m begging him, because this is so awkward, and if he walks out the door and then walks back in, I won’t be able to do it.
I have to do this. Now.
Dalton’s hands are still on my shoulders, and I’m struck by how big they are. I let my eyes run over him, noting the way his pearl snap shirt is kind of straining at the edges.
I let my eyes continue up. His hair, normally flat under his cowboy hat, is a little too long. It’s dark brown and curling around the edges and looks kind of… wet. Like he just got out of the shower. He smells incredible, too. Piney, and kind of smokey.
“Did you put on cologne?”
Dalton looks away, and his hands leave my shoulders.
“You hate it,” he murmurs.
“No,” I say quickly. I step forward and take one of his hands, putting it back on my shoulder. “No. I don’t. You smell really good, Dalton.”
“Thanks.”
We just stand there. His hand on my shoulder. Me, staring at him. In the kitchen of my house. Wine drenching my clothes. Oh.
I move back, and his hands fall off.
“Sorry,” I mutter. “I’m just covered in wine now, and?—”
“Fuck it,” he says softly. I blink up at him. Dalton stands tall, looking at the wine. “I’ll help you clean it up. Later,” he adds.
“Later.”
After we do this.
Dalton looks over at me. “So. You want to…”
Okay. No time like the present, I guess.
“Yeah. Um. In the bedroom? I guess?” I stammer. I’m blushing like crazy. My whole body feels like it’s on fire, and I have no idea what to do. Except, I guess, it’s time to do… that.
Silently, I start to walk toward my bedroom. I can hear Dalton follow me, and his footsteps have never been louder as they echo off of the hall. I mean, this is not the first time one of the guys has been in my little farmhouse. Probably not the first time that Dalton has been here, honestly. But I feel like I’m painfully aware of his every move.
I stop in the bedroom when I get there. I spin, slowly looking at Dalton.
I don’t know what to do now. Okay, I do know what to do. I know what needs to be done, and I understand the basics, anyway. But I don’t know like what… to do.
Dalton seems to register this. He steps forward, and he lifts a hesitant hand to my face.
I shiver. His palm is close enough to warm my cheek, but it’s not touching me. I want to lean into it, like a kitten. He ends up moving, his fingers gently pushing a strand of hair behind my head.
“What do you need, Piper?” he murmurs softly.
I crack a small smile. “A full sentence from Dalton? Today is special.”
He grunts. “You’re special.”
A smile ghosts across my face. “That’s really sweet. Thank you.”
His finger traces the shell of my ear before lingering down the line of my neck. I shiver, his touch igniting a million sparks everywhere he lands.
“What do you need, Piper?”
I was so stupid to think that I could do this. That I could keep things friendly between us. My breath is sawing in and out of my lungs, and my skin feels like it’s on fire. I don’t think it’s the wine that’s making me react this way…
It’s Dalton. It’s all the feelings that I’ve held back for years. Every time I’ve watched him talk to his horses, as he’s so gentle with them… I bark out a laugh.
Dalton freezes. “You good?”
“Yeah. No. Yeah. I am. I was just thinking that you always know what to do with horses in this type of situation.”
He makes a noise. “I don’t do this with horses, Piper.”
I laugh, but it’s nervous and shrill. “No. I know that. I mean like… you’re so good with them. You calm them down, and you always seem to know exactly what to say.”
Dalton snorts. “Never know what to say.”
“You do with the horses,” I say, peering up at him from underneath my lashes. “You make them feel better.”
Dalton stares at me for a minute longer, then he moves forward. His hands cautiously come up to my shoulders. I’m wearing nothing special. A button-down white shirt and a loose-fitting pair of jeans. The shirt is a little sticky from the wine, but still.
Dalton’s hands feel like they’re burning through the fine fabric. He skates his fingers up my shoulders, and I shiver.
“Horses don’t like sudden movements,” he says.
God, I’ve never seen anyone move so slow. It’s like his body is in another time entirely. His muscles are all so firm, and he’s just… meticulous.
Dalton’s hands slowly come up to frame my face. He leans forward, and my breath hitches as his face comes close to mine. He’s so much taller than I am, and he’s arching down to bring his lips…
No kissing.
It goes off like a five-alarm sound in my mind. I freeze, staring up at him.
“Dalton. No kissing,” I whisper.
He goes as still as a stone. His hands are still framing my face, and he isn’t moving. When I look into his brown eyes, I see… panic.
Shit.
Dalton sprinted away the other day when emotions overwhelmed him. I don’t want him to feel like he’s being rejected, because he’s not…
“Just touch me. Please,” I whisper.
The word ‘please’ seems to jumpstart him. He nods, and his hands move to my front, tugging at the buttons on my white linen shirt.
Slowly, Dalton pulls the shirt apart. His hands drift up to my shoulders, and I shiver when they touch my bare skin.
He freezes. “You good?”
I don’t trust myself to speak. So a nod is all I can do.
Dalton lets out a breath. His fingers gently tug the fabric until it goes onto the floor with a gentle woosh.
My heart feels like it’s beating so loud, I’m sure that he can hear it. One hundred percent. There’s no way he can’t.
Dalton’s eyes trace over my skin. Everywhere he looks, my skin breaks out in bumps, like he’s trailing his fingers over me. I feel like my nerves are just strung with lightning right now. Like I’m a house that’s had electrical work done by someone’s shady uncle.
God. I can’t do this. The whole reason I had the no kissing rule was that it was safe. It kept me from being too intimate, from making it more than just being friends.
This feels way, way different than friends helping each other out. I had no idea that it would feel like… this.
I’m panicking. I know I am. Dalton might not know it yet, but I do. I need to leave, but I don’t know how to do that without making him feel bad…
“Piper,” he says. His voice is low and rough and almost physically makes me moan. “Listen to me.”
The order does something to me. It snaps me to attention, and I look up at him.
“Breathe,” he whispers.
I suck in a huge, halting breath, before letting it out.
Dalton nods. “Good girl.”
Oh. Oh my.
“Do that again.”
Dalton tilts his head in question, and I take a breath.
“Tell me what to do. And tell me…” My voice trails off, and I bite my lip.
Dalton’s brown eyes flash with understanding. “Good girl?”
I nod.
The pupils in his eyes explode, moving to take up so much space that his brown eyes look almost black. He takes a step back, surveying me again.
“Take off your jeans,” he orders.
It’s like my body is on autopilot. I don’t have to think about anything; all I need are Dalton’s words, telling me what to do.
Take off your jeans.
My hands do just that. They unbutton my jeans, taking them apart as I shimmy them off. I’m not wearing underwear that is particularly sexy, but it’s something that I find… pretty. And it is made of white lace. Just like my bra.
Dalton makes a rumbling sound. He looks at the bed, then at me. “Lie down on your back.”
Silently, I do that.
Dalton prowls to the edge of the bed. He stops, his hands tugging at the bottom of his pearl-snap button-down. When he takes it off, my breath catches in my throat.
Dalton is… Okay, hot is an understatement. He’s gorgeous . His body is sculpted by hard work and horseback riding, and I want to touch it.
But that would be… kind of intimate. So is looking at him, actually. I want to turn over to be on my hands and knees, but then that brings up the whole ‘prized cattle’ feeling again, and I definitely want to avoid that.
“Piper.” Dalton’s growl interrupts my swirling thoughts.
I gulp. “Yeah?”
“Stop thinking,” he commands.
I give a shrill little laugh. “What? How do I stop?—”
I don’t get a chance to finish that, because his fingers tug down the cup of my bra, and they gently tweak my nipple. I gasp instead.
Dalton gives a low laugh. “Stop thinking.”
“Um. Can you help?”
Dalton makes another noise. I watch as he undoes his belt with one hand, and then I have to stop watching because if I keep looking, I’m going to explode.
He kneels on the bed. His lips descend, replacing his fingers on my nipples.
I definitely stop thinking.
Everything becomes about Dalton. The way he uses his tongue to roll my nipple around, the way his fingers skate over my skin. His hands gently tug aside my thin underwear, and when one thick finger presses against the center of my arousal, I moan. I can’t help it.
“You’re so wet, darlin’,” he purrs into my ear. His lips brush the edge of my face, and I really, really want to kiss him.
No kissing.
Dalton seems to remember the rule as well, and his mouth drifts away, gently tracing my neck instead. I guess that I didn’t specifically say no kissing other parts of my body…
I feel his lips trace my chest, then my stomach. Then, his fingers are tugging my panties down, and I feel his shoulders between my legs. Oh. Um.
“Dalton,” I start, very aware of the fact that he’s staring at me like I’m a five-course meal right now. “This isn’t… you don’t have to…”
“Do you want it?” he interrupts.
Huh. I mean, one of the most attractive men that I’ve ever seen has his head between my legs. He’s ready to… do things that haven’t exactly been successful for me before. Which I think is what’s making me nervous.
I gulp. “In the past, this hasn’t worked.”
He tilts his head, a question on his face.
“Like, there wasn’t a point, you know? Because I didn’t… um…”
“Say what you’re sayin’, darlin’,” he growls.
“I’ve never come like this before,” I blurt.
Dalton gives me a look.
“And like it’s kind of not necessary for me to come to like… make this happen.”
He narrows his eyes. “Do you want to?”
“Do I want to what?” I breathe.
There’s a dangerous tilt to his lips. “Come.”
Uh. Well. Okay, it’s a no-brainer.
“Yes,” I breathe. I can’t help it. I’ve been suffering for months. Ever since I went on my whole self-imposed celibacy thing. I’ve been just dying to have someone make me come. The men I’ve dated in the past were hit or miss with this, and the battery-operated-boyfriend is fine, but it’s not… enough.
Dalton grins. It’s a true smile, one that shows his dimples, and my breath skips because he’s so darn beautiful.
“You’re gonna come for me, darlin’,” he murmurs.
“It’s okay if I don’t, because?—”
I don’t finish that thought. Dalton’s tongue cuts me off, and I’m completely lost.
I lean back, moaning as he works my clit. One big hand comes up to join his mouth, and I feel his thick fingers press inside me.
Good lord. I’m so wet that I can hear the noises from his fingers pressing inside me. But I don’t care. Wave after wave of sensations spin over me. I feel like I’m getting tighter, somehow. Like everything is winding up, and when it finishes, I’m going to come apart.
I’m so close. My back arches up. I’m twisting my hips as much as I can, trying to get Dalton to give me more. He’s so close to something, and I just…
He pulls back. “Come for me, darlin’.”
Then, a couple things happen at once. His fingers that are deep inside me curl, his mouth wraps around my clit. And the orgasm that’s been simmering at the edges of my awareness explodes.
I gasp as it washes over me. I come so hard that my vision kind of goes fuzzy at the edges, and I shudder as a ricochet of sensation cascades over my skin. Dalton’s fingers disappear from my body, and I moan at their loss.
“Piper.”
Dalton is kneeling on the bed, his knees where his shoulders were a minute ago. His boxers are halfway down his ass, and he’s frozen, staring at me.
“You good?” he asks.
I nod.
“You really want this?” His voice is shaking.
I blink, studying him a little more thoroughly. Dalton’s face looks like it’s strained, and his eyes are searching mine. There’s a little wrinkle of worry in between his eyebrows, and unless I’m mistaken… Dalton is nervous.
I sit up on my elbows. The orgasm is still making my head a little fuzzy, but I look over at him. “I do. Do you?”
His mouth gets tight. “Always.”
I don’t have time to think about that word. It sticks, though, catching in my mind as I watch Dalton pull his boxers down the rest of the way.
When he takes himself in his hand, I gulp a little. He’s big.
Dalton leans forward, his eyes glued to mine.
“If you want me to stop, tell me,” he whispers.
I shake my head. “That’s not it.”
It’s the opposite. I don’t want Dalton to stop. I want this. I want him.
But I also think that I might have made a huge mistake. Because after we do this, there’s no way in hell that I can just be his friend anymore.
Dalton’s hand comes to my face. He strokes my cheek gently, reassuringly. I close my eyes and lean into it.
“Piper. No matter what, you’re one of my best friends. You’re important to me. Special,” he whispers. “I want you to have whatever you want. I want this.”
It’s what I need to hear, but it’s still missing something…
I want you.
The thought fills me with longing, and I know what’s missing.
No matter what, no matter how intimate this feels, it’s kind of a moot point. Because we’re friends. Helping each other out. And that’s it.
“Piper?”
I look up at him and do my best to let a smile slip over my lips.
“I want this.” It’s not a lie. It’s just not all the way true. I want this and so much more.
Dalton looks down at me again. I take my hand and extend it, brushing it against his hard length. When my fingers touch his sensitive skin, I see Dalton’s eyes roll back in his head.
“Now, Dalton,” I murmur.
It takes him a minute. His chest heaves with effort, until I slowly see him lean forward again. His lips twist into a wicked smile before he leans further, and as he fits himself to my entrance, I feel his mouth at my ear.
“You ready to come again for me, good girl?”