16. Montana
The evening is substantially less eventful after Bea steals Ellison from me for what I can only assume is girl talk. They giggle and whisper, talking animatedly as I continue to sneak glances at the girl who shouldn’t have me completely in knots but does anyway. The guys don’t try to hide their amusement at me becoming completely unhinged at my best friend ogling Jensen. Even Bodhi snickers at my expense, and the guy barely reacts to anything.
But I’d lost any sort of reason as I’d watched her stare at him. Hell, I’m man enough to admit that our resident law enforcement officer is good-looking with his big muscles and movie-star appeal. Still, I wasn’t this guy. If the Lord above had been standing in the kitchen with us, I would have only been able to see Ellison. She’d been right to call me out for being jealous because jealous was an understatement.
Mason had jokingly offered a bedroom for us to “sort yourselves out” and had my feet not been rooted to the floor I would have hauled her over my shoulder, stalked down the hall, and fucked her into the mattress until she promised never to look at the sheriff like that again.
“You’re up, Montana,” Archer says, motioning to the few remaining numbers in the muffin tins on the counter and handing me a Ping-Pong ball. So far, the prizes tonight had ranged from cash to candy, nips of alcohol, glasses with the nose and mustache on them, and a dozen other ridiculous things.
It had started after Mason had watched a couple of family challenge videos like this on social media and thought it looked like fun. The guy was impossible to say no to, and honestly, there was no reason we couldn’t humor him with a monthly game night.
And really, it was so much more than that.
Mason and Bodhi had settled more into Blackstone Falls over the couple of years they’d been here. But while Bodhi always seemed ready to bolt with one foot out the door, Mason was trying like hell to belong in our small town. He wanted permanence—stability—and I’d do anything to help him. Plus I liked hanging out with these guys.
And Bea.
And now, Ellison.
She’d been tentative at first, but after a couple of rounds, she’d joined in with the trash talking and storytelling. She fit here, and aside from me wanting to bury myself inside her until this manic feeling subsided, I liked her in this space.
“Quit stalling and take your shot, old man,” Mason heckles from across the counter, and I snicker as I line up my shot and send the ball bouncing down the granite countertop.
I fist pump when it lands in the one labeled 13 and saunter to the table to claim my prize, snatching up the matching cup. “Old man, my ass,” I gloat as I snap the five-dollar bill between my fingers for everyone to see.
There’s only a handful of numbers left, but they’re spread out between the two muffin tins, and the more Jensen continues landing in the empty spaces, the more colorful his cursing becomes. Guy might be in charge of keeping the peace around here, but he’s off duty and all bets are off at this point.
Bea nails her next turn and the one after that too, earning her a not-so-sweet kiss from Archer and a bunch of hoots and hollers from the rest of us. Jensen misses every shot, and the game is finally put to rest when Ellison and Bodhi land the last two numbers.
“Game was rigged,” Jensen grumbles, and it has Mason’s normal smile growing impossibly wider.
“Oh, come on, Sheriff. You had fun,” Bea says with a wink as she wraps her arms around Archer’s waist. She rests her head on his sternum, because that’s as high as she reaches, but I don’t miss the way his arm automatically goes around her, pulling her tight against him. It’s not that I’d never noticed their small displays of affection, but somehow with Ellison in the room, I’m more aware of the possibility I could have that too.
That I want that.
That I’ve never wanted anything as badly as to be able to claim Ellison in a crowded room and not just because I lost my shit earlier over her looking at Jensen.
I want her to be mine and I want to be hers and I want every damn thing that goes along with it.
I just need to figure out how to do it.
The round of goodbyes takes forever even though it’s probably no different than normal. I can’t even appreciate how well tonight went because all I can think about is the way I need her pressed against me, her body hot and needy and begging for me.
“You all right, Max?” she asks as we make our way down the porch steps and toward the ATV, but all I can do is nod because if I open my mouth, I’m going to say something I can’t take back like I want to fuck you until you only ever think of me.
I’d like to think I’m more of a gentleman than that, but dammit, right now I don’t want to be.
Ellison slides onto the bench seat next to me, and I have to look away as her dress rides up her tanned thighs. My hands grip the steering wheel, the leather creaking at the force of my grip, and I don’t have to see her face to know that her eyes are wide and her kissable fucking lips are parted.
She may think she knows what she’s doing, but she has no fucking clue. Hell, most of the time I don’t have a clue. But right now, as we drive back to the house with only the sounds of the Tennessee night around us, I know exactly what I want.
And I don’t want to wait.
The barn casts a shadow over us, and as soon as I’ve thrown the ATV in park, my hand is around the back of her neck, pulling her toward me. My lips crash against hers, and Ellison doesn’t even hesitate for a second before she’s pushing her tongue into my mouth and her breasts are pressed against me.
“I hated seein’ you look at him like that,” I growl and turn my body so more of me is touching more of her. But it’s not enough.
“Like what?” she huffs as she manages to wedge herself between my chest and the steering wheel as she straddles my lap.
“Like you wanted him,” I grit out as she rocks her hips against me, and I move my hands up to cup her breasts. They’re fuller than when we were eighteen, and I have half a mind to rip the dress apart just to see them spill out into the moonlight.
“You should see how I look at you.” She moans the words as my fingers tweak and pull at her nipples, fondling her as she gasps and writhes against me. You should see how I look at you. I have no idea what to do with that, but right now all that matters is her.
“Right now I want to see how you look coming all over my fingers.”
“Do it.” The words are a command as her teeth nip at my earlobe. My groan is low and pained as I maneuver us until I’m standing and she’s spread out on the bench seat. The hood would be preferable, but it’s too damn hot after racing back here.
She leans back on her elbows, and I want to strip her down and fuck her senseless right here and then take her inside and do it again. But for now, I settle for dragging her panties down her legs and shoving them into the pocket of my jeans and pushing the hem of her dress all the way up until she’s completely exposed to me.
I stare at her, completely transfixed by the absolute beauty before me.
“Montana, please.” Her plea has my gaze snapping to hers, her chest heaving and her lips parted, but it’s the way she said my name—my real name—that has my mouth crashing against hers as I tease my thumb against her clit.
Ellison gasps into my mouth and I kiss her harder, one hand braced on the seat next to her and the other between her legs as her hands fist in my hair. I slip one finger inside her and then another, her back arching into me in the most spectacular way as she bucks her hips, desperate for release.
“I need more,” she pants as I kiss down her neck and over the valley of her breasts before crooking my fingers and sucking her nipple through the fabric of her dress. She screams my name, the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet night, and I can’t help but chuckle as she pulses and flutters around me.
She’s beautiful like this—flushed and sated in the moonlight and well on her way to bein’ mine.
“God, I needed that,” she says as she sits up and reaches for my belt buckle, “and now I need?—”
My cell phone rings in my back pocket, the sound shrill compared to the seductive lilt of Ellison’s voice, but I know who’s calling—it’s the only ringtone that’s different because it has to be. My hand wraps around her wrist as I pull the device out. “What’s wrong?”