Chapter 36
Byron
Later that evening, whilst Emory settled Clayton into bed, Byron found himself in the den, staring up at the wall of books.
This dim room had seen more light in the past few weeks than it had in the previous decade.
What started as Byron’s small escape from the temptation he’d been determined to resist soon became a lively room.
Clayton loved exploring the bookshelves almost as much as Byron and Emory, and Byron was a little annoyed at himself for not thinking to bring him down here sooner.
All this time, he’d brought books out for Clayton instead.
It didn’t matter, though. Because they’d be moving soon.
The thought pinched at something near Byron’s heart. It was the right call, but knowing that didn’t make the reality of saying goodbye to the farm any easier. He’d grown up here, he’d fallen in love here—twice now—and he’d had the boys here. Tucker and Jaxon, sure, but Clayton too.
Saying goodbye was going to be hard. He was glad he could pass it on to Tucker, though. The Gardner legacy over the farm would live on for at least one more generation.
With a sigh, Byron leant his weight against the pool table and started calculating how exactly they were going to move that many books. If they’d even have space for them in the city. There was a lot to figure out, but it didn’t faze Byron. Not really.
Although maybe Tucker would want to keep all the books here, then they wouldn’t have to pack them all up. Byron was fit from his years working on the farm, but even he knew how heavy books could get.
“You know,” Emory’s voice cut through his thoughts as she stepped into the room. Byron shifted his gaze to take her in. Perfect, she was always perfect.
Falling into place next to him, Emory nudged his arm with her shoulder before continuing her sentence, “Weeks ago, I really thought you were down here hiding because you couldn’t stand the thought of me being in your space.”
A chuckle rolled through Byron’s throat. “I was hiding,” he admitted. “But I was hiding because I thought if I saw you making yourself at home in my house, I’d never let you leave.”
“Thank you for letting me leave.” Emory’s voice dropped, and she wrung her hands in front of her stomach. “But are you sure you want to move to the city? You’ve never even been. This farm has been your whole world.”
Byron shifted his weight off the table and stood in front of her. His hands rested next to her thighs, caging her in against the table, and he towered over her so she had to lift her head to look at him. A tiny crease sat between her brows, and her lips pressed together.
“It was my whole world, Em. But that’s not always a good thing. And besides, it’s not anymore.”
She furrowed her brow further, and Byron kissed the wrinkles from her forehead.
“You’re my world now, Emory, and I would move to the other side of the Earth if it meant I could spend my days with you.”
A tiny tear escaped his eyes, trailing down his cheek until it pooled in the corner of his mouth. Byron poked his tongue through his lips to lick the salty liquid. Emory’s eyes tracked the movement, her worrisome look melting away as her mouth dropped open ever so slightly.
“Thank you,” she whispered. Her eyes never left his lips, and her voice began to shake as Byron closed himself into her.
“You know,” he said as he shifted his hands to graze up her arms. “I never showed you how to play pool. It would be a shame if we left and you never learned.”
Emory tilted her head. “You better show me then.”
He stepped back, hating the chill the gap between them sent through his bones.
He racked the balls and grabbed a cue from the wall, never quite taking his gaze off Emory.
She watched him with her arms folded across her chest. The line was back between her brows, and she bit her lip as she tracked how he set up for the game.
Byron took the first shot, breaking the triangle and sending the balls flying across the felt. Satisfied at the spread, and ignoring the balls that dropped into pockets, Byron turned to Emory and held out the cue.
“Didn’t you get some in?” she questioned.
Maybe she did know a little pool after all. Byron held back his smirk, shrugging away the question and tapping the cue on the floor in front of her. Emory shook head with a laugh as she took it from him.
Emory’s long hair hung down her back as she circled the table, checking the white ball and looking for a good play.
When she chose her target and stepped forward, Byron moved in behind her.
His legs on either side of hers, he pressed against her and wrapped his hands over her arms. The little gasp she let out at his closeness stirred inside him, as though this hadn’t been his plan all along.
With their bodies together, Byron moved her arms into the right position and leant her torso down with his own. They took the shot together, sinking the ball. Emory squealed, jumping in excitement. Byron took the cue from her, swiping it across the table to push all the balls up one end.
“Ah, look at that,” he growled, “you’re a natural.”
Spinning her around, Byron held her close and kissed her.
Their mouths crashed together, charged with an explosive energy that Byron had never felt before.
He ran his tongue along her lips, and she tilted her head for him.
The kiss was flirty and frenzied, but nothing about it was rushed.
They explored in sync, breathing each other in.
When, finally, Byron pulled back, it wasn’t to stop the kiss.
He pulled her tank over her head as they panted for air, then fell back against her mouth.
Hastily and clumsily, they shed their clothing.
In nothing but their underwear, Byron lifted Emory onto the table.
Leaning on her hands, she arched her back as Byron made his way down her body.
He licked along her bra line, nipped at her sensitive nipples through the thin padded fabric, and left a line of wet kisses down her torso.
At the apex of her thighs, he dropped to his knees between her legs. Emory was his favourite meal, and he’d never tire of showing her just how much he enjoyed devouring her.
There was a wet patch on her panties. Byron pressed against it with his thumb and teased along the seam with his mouth.
She whimpered, flinching at the way the delicate touch of his tongue tickled her sensitive skin.
Moving the fabric barrier to the side, Byron flattened his tongue and licked her pussy.
The taste sent a pulsing to his groin and a heat straight to his core.
Emory was going to be the death of him, but he’d live for every moment they could spend together.
With his tongue on her clit, Byron pushed two fingers into her, curling them up to stroke her anterior walls.
Emory squirmed beneath him, but he held her still and pumped his fingers into her over and over.
Sucking her sensitive bud, Byron coaxed her orgasm out of her until she was panting and writhing.
Her hands pulled at the ends of his hair as he licked her clean.
As the muscles in her legs began to relax, Byron stood, shifting out of his briefs. His firm cock sprang to life. He fisted it, remembering how fucking incredible it felt when he sank into Emory bare.
It was tempting to give in to desire. After all, giving in was exactly how they ended up here, in love. But they couldn’t. He knew it worried her too much.
He gave himself a small taste, running his dick through her slick folds and pressing the tip toward her entrance. Emory held her breath as he did, and maybe that meant she would be okay with it, but he didn’t want her to get caught in the moment.
With a groan, Byron wrapped Emory’s legs around his waist and lifted her from the pool table. He took long strides down the hall and into his room. Dropping her on his bed, he fished a condom from the bedside drawer and rolled it over his cock.
Emory had positioned herself in the centre of the bed with her knees up and her legs spread wide. She looked fucking incredible like this. Wet and ready for him. Byron crawled forward, pausing to lick along her again before positioning himself between her legs.
He pushed in slowly, giving her time to adjust to his size and giving himself time to soak in the feeling. Having his cock buried deep inside Emory was his favourite state of being.
Wrapping her arms around his neck, Emory pulled Byron close and kissed him.
“I love you,” she moaned into his mouth as he rocked his hips into her.
“I fucking love you too, Em.”
They moved in sync, rocking together as their pleasure grew and grew into a cliff they could dive off. Kissing as they rode out their orgasm, Byron and Emory fell into oblivion together.
“And you’re sure the books can stay?” Byron asked Tucker for what felt like the fifteenth time.
Everything else was packed into the large moving truck and on its way to the city, and Byron had loaded his and Emory’s cars with anything they might need before the truck arrived. It should only be half a day behind them, but it was going to have to go slow through the winding backcountry roads.
“Are you kidding?” Tucker stood beside him and slapped his hand across Byron’s back. “I’m trying to get a librarian to fall for me, I need all the books I can get my hands on.”
Byron turned to his son. “Don’t do anything stupid with the farm.”
“What exactly do you think I’m going to do, grow poppies?”
With a laugh, Byron and Tucker hugged goodbye. Across the driveway, Emory stood with Clayton on her hip. Even from here, Byron could see the way her cheeks glistened with tears as she said goodbye to Mya.
“You gonna be okay in the city, Dad?”
Byron took a deep breath. It had been two months since Emory first got the job offer at Sydscape, and they’d been preparing for this day ever since.
Virtual house viewings, packing everything they owned into boxes, and tidying up the farm, ready for Tucker to take over.
She didn’t start until the new year, and logistically, making such a big move the weekend before Christmas probably wasn’t the best idea, but they’d decided to move early so they both had time to settle into city life.
The house they’d found—and Byron had bought—was nestled in the inner suburbs on a distinct green wedge of large enough blocks. There was enough of a yard for Miff to enjoy, although Byron had plans to build her some kind of obstacle course to help burn off her energy. That, and lots of walks.
Byron was going to be a stay-at-home Papa, and even though it was new and yeah, okay, it was scary, he was looking forward to it. Maybe change wasn’t always such a bad thing.
They had a long drive ahead of them, though, and while it was still relatively early in the morning, they needed to get going soon.
Tucker and Mya were joining them for the trip, to share the driving and make sure no one was tackling winding roads and exhaustion on their own.
Tucker and Mya would fly back from the city after Christmas.
Byron wasn’t sure if Jaxon would be joining them on the twenty-fifth.
He was invited, but other than a few quick thumbs up in response to his texts, Byron hadn’t heard from his eldest son since that day at the cottage.
He was used to it by now, but the invitation was always going to be there for when Jaxon was ready to make amends.
“You ready?” Emory called out.
Byron shook off the unsettled feeling that always seemed to wash over him when he thought about Jaxon. There wasn’t much else Byron could do, really, other than hope that one day, Jaxon would want to be part of their lives again. He was welcome as soon as he made that call.
Moving to meet Emory in the drive, Byron swept her into his arms between the loaded cars. On the other side of Emory’s car, Mya leaned into the back seat to strap Clayton into his chair.
“I’m ready if you are,” Byron said, wrapping his arms around her.
He was, truly, ready.
As it turned out, all that change he’d been so worried about the flood bringing had been exactly what he needed after all.