Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
DARBY
Ididn’t sleep a wink last night.
A restless night isn’t unusual for me. There have been several times that I’ve sat out by the fire until the sun started to lighten the sky, just before dawn.
I don’t know what it is about sitting in that spot behind my little cabin that I love so much.
Actually, that’s a lie. I know. It’s peaceful out there, the fire is warm when the air cools down, and I like the way it sounds.
The way it feels on my face and arms, and I love listening to the quiet all around me.
But I like it best when Tucker joins me.
Let’s be honest, I like everything better when the tall, sexy rancher is nearby, whether it’s by the fire, in his kitchen, or just about anywhere. I’ve grown to crave his touch, and I trust him implicitly. I don’t remember the last time that happened, aside from Holden, of course.
I want Tucker Hendrix. And not just in a please get naked and do unspeakable things to my body kind of way.
Yes, I want that because he’s pure, unadulterated sex on a motherfucking stick, but I also want to talk to him.
I want to ask him a million questions and make him laugh.
Because that laugh? Yeah, there’s nothing better than when Tucker laughs.
I’ve just walked into the barn, ready to get started on stalls and feeding the horses, when I feel him step into the barn behind me. The air shifts when he’s near, and my skin prickles, and everything in me immediately lets go, as if my body knows that it can exhale.
“You beat me here every morning,” he says, his voice rough. I turn to smile at him and feel my heart stumble.
For fuck’s sake, warn a girl.
His hair is damp from a shower. His black T-shirt molds over his chest and arms so damn perfectly, I can see the outline of every muscle, and his forearm flexes as he brings his coffee to his lips for a sip, and holy Hades, I think I might have an orgasm just from looking at him.
“Duchess?”
“What? Oh yeah. I just got here a second ago. I haven’t even started working yet.”
“Hmm.” His green eyes journey down my body, over my breasts and hips, then back up again, and he takes another sip of coffee as he stares at me with lazy interest.
Tucker told me that he moves slow, and he wasn’t lying. He’s held my hand, touched my hair and face, and I’ve leaned on him while we watch the fire at night.
But he hasn’t kissed me, and I’m dying to know what he tastes like. What he feels like pressed against me. Does he make noises? Are his hands firm? I want to know everything.
“What’s going on in that pretty brain of yours?” He sets his mug on a nearby ledge.
“Are you ever going to kiss me?”
I blink rapidly, stunned that I said the words out loud, but before I can stammer through an apology, Tucker steps to me, his lips turned up in a small smile, and he drags his fingertips down my jawline.
“Is that what you want, pretty girl? You want me to kiss you?”
Well, now that he’s so close, I’m nervous. His eyes have darkened, and he tips my chin up as his gaze lowers to my lips.
I lick them, and his jaw tightens.
“Do you want to know why I haven’t tasted you yet?”
“Yeah, I want to know.” I had no idea my voice could do that. Go all breathy and gravelly.
“Because once I start, I won’t want to stop.” His thumb comes up to gently graze over my bottom lip, and his eyes find mine again. “I’ll want the taste of you on my tongue all the time, and I promised you that I’d be professional and keep my hands to myself.”
“I know.” I swallow hard. “But I think we’ve crossed that line, Tucker.”
“And are you okay with that?”
He’s watching me so closely, as if he’s studying me, looking for any sign that I might be uncomfortable.
But I’m not.
I’ve never been this needy for a man in my life.
“I’m okay with it. I don’t know how I thought I could stay away from you.”
He steps closer, his big hands frame my face, and his lips are so close to mine, I can smell the coffee on his breath and feel the heat from his hard body.
My hands fist into his shirt at his waist, and I scoot closer, so my stomach lines up with his cock, and he growls, sending goose bumps all over me.
He lowers his lips so slowly, and covers mine softly, as if he’s still waiting for me to say no.
As if he’s afraid that I don’t really want this with him, and it makes me want it all the more.
When I moan and boost up on my toes, Tucker deepens the kiss, and I open to him, welcoming his tongue inside my mouth as stars explode around me, and I swear to God, I might have died and gone to heaven.
My hands glide around to his back as his hands move into my hair, and he holds me still.
I press my breasts to his stomach as he devours my mouth.
He nibbles my lips, then sinks into me again, and holy shit, if he can set me off like this with just a kiss, what would he be able to do to me if we were naked?
He might kill me.
But what a way to go.
“Fuck, you’re the sweetest thing,” he murmurs against my lips as we both take a breath. He doesn’t pull away. He rests his forehead to mine, and we’re pressed tightly together from head to knees, as if we can’t get enough of each other.
I can’t get enough of him.
His eyes are on mine, so full of lust and longing, but gentle too. It makes my heart warm.
I rub my hands up and down his back, and he brushes my hair back, then frames my face again and nuzzles my nose, back and forth, before pulling back and smiling softly down at me.
“You want to know what the only downside of that was?” he asks.
“What?”
“Now I have to work all day and pretend like I don’t want to carry you upstairs to my bedroom, strip you down, and worship you until you’re screaming.”
Holy fucking shit.
I swallow hard and press my lips together and then start to laugh. Because this is so unexpected and a little ridiculous, but also so much fun.
When was the last time I had fun with a man?
“Is that a he’s really bad at that laugh, or I can’t believe I did that laugh?” he asks.
“It’s a I don’t know how I got here, but I’m really glad I did laugh.” I pat his chest and enjoy the hard muscles under my touch. “As much as I’d love to stand here and make out with you all day, we should get to work.”
Before I can turn away to grab a shovel, Tucker moves back in, but this time, he leans down, grips me by the back of my thighs and lifts me, braces me against the wall of the barn, and I wrap my arms around his neck and legs around his waist as he kisses me once more. This isn’t soft and gentle and new.
This is sexy and primal. This is I want you so bad, I ache with it.
I moan against his lips and circle my hips, moving against the hardness I feel behind the fly of his jeans, and he groans before kissing down my jaw and burying his face in my neck and biting me there, then soothing it with his tongue.
“Fuck, you’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever met in my goddamn life.”
That admission lights me up inside. This incredible man wants me. The broken one. The one who’s bad with people and scarred so horribly, I’ll never let him see parts of my body.
The one that no one else has ever wanted to keep around for long.
“Do you hear me,” he continues, his voice harder now. More commanding. He’s not lazy and laid back now, and I fucking love it.
“I hear you.”
“Good. Because now that I’ve tasted you, it won’t be enough, Duchess. So, if this is as far as you want it to go, you need to say so now before I bury myself ten inches inside of your perfect pussy and make you mine.”
Um. Holy shit.
“I don’t want you to stop.”
He kisses my neck, my jawline, and then returns to my lips and kisses me so tenderly, it almost brings tears to my eyes.
“Good. Now, we really do have to work, but we’ll revisit this later.”
“I can’t wait.”
I’ve been buzzing all day. We got through the barn chores fairly quickly. I was wrangling kittens who have discovered their legs and like to run around the barn, under our feet, and get into trouble.
Tom just looks at me like I can’t do a damn thing with these kids.
It kind of cracks me up.
Then, I officially met Sylvester, the orange cat that was on the porch the first day I arrived. Apparently, he roams the property, looking for food and mischief.
He’s sweet. And likely the father of Tom’s little brood of babies.
“You don’t have a dog,” I say as Tucker and I fill a water trough for the goats.
“I did have one for about twelve years,” he replies. “He passed last fall, and I haven’t had the heart to get something new. Although, a ranch doesn’t really feel complete without a mutt or two running around. Do you like dogs?”
I watch him and nibble the inside of my cheek, unsure how to answer that. My usual response is to blow off the question, to act nonchalant.
But that’s lying, and I don’t want to lie to Tucker.
“I’ve never owned a dog, and aside from working with them in school, I’ve never really been around animals.”
Tucker leans on the fence and watches me with sober green eyes, waiting patiently for me to continue.
“You work well with animals,” he says carefully.
“At first, I had to make myself be calm around them,” I admit. “When I started school, I was scared shitless.”
“Of dogs?”
“Of everything.” I press my lips together and look out at the pasture, at the cows grazing and the birds flying overhead. Spring has settled in, and it feels good out here in the sunshine. I don’t like being vulnerable with people. I’m not good at it, and I don’t usually let my guard down.
“Why were you afraid of animals, Duchess?”
I take a deep breath, and the words start to tumble out of me, as if I have to tell him. As if keeping it inside will tear me apart.