Chapter Thirteen
Willow slipped into bed beside Decker in what she hoped would be the first night of their forever. Even though she’d spent the night with him several times, this felt different.
As soon as she curled up on her side, he draped his arm across her waist and spooned her. His chest pressed against her back, and his breath came in steady puffs against her neck.
She also felt how hard he was—everywhere.
The hardest place interested her a lot.
“Comfortable?” His rumble against the shell of her ear sent goosebumps skittering over her skin.
“Mmhmm.”
“Good.”
Silence stretched between them. It wasn’t filled with strain—it was filled with anticipation.
She was just going to come right out and say what they were both thinking.
“You know”—she trailed her fingers along his forearm—“I’m pretty sure it’s bad luck not to christen a shared room on the first night.”
His low chuckle thrilled her. “Is that so?”
“Absolutely. It’s in all the relationship manuals.” She turned in his arms to face him, grinning. “I’m surprised you haven’t read them.”
His eyes burned through the darkness, amusement sparking in the depths. “We wouldn’t want to tempt fate.” His expression grew more serious. “But first…”
He paused for so long that her brows pinched in concern. “Decker, I’m always willing to hear what you have to say.”
His throat clicked when he swallowed. “That’s what makes you so amazing. Actually, we should probably talk about the future. I mean, you can’t want to share this room for the rest of your life, right?”
The question caught her off guard. She glanced around the bedroom that had been hers since those childhood summers, then later after her father died and she and her brothers moved here on a permanent basis.
The same floral wallpaper her mother had picked out decades ago, the window seat where Willow spent countless hours reading, the closet that barely fit all her clothes even before Decker’s things arrived.
“I’ve never really given it much thought,” she admitted.
“I mean, I want my own space eventually. Our own space. But it seems impossible with everything going on here. I love my family, but…” She trailed off, surprised by the admission forming on her lips.
“I could use some downtime from all the obligations. Some separation.”
“What would you do with downtime?” She loved that Decker was genuinely curious.
She laughed, the sound a little helpless. “I don’t know. Get a hobby? Read books that aren’t ranch management manuals? Sleep past five in the morning?” The more she thought about it, the more appealing it sounded. “God, when did I become so boring?”
“You’re not boring. You’re the gears that keep this family running.” He traced lazy circles on her bare shoulder, his fingertip riding beneath the thin strap of her tank top. “But gears need maintenance too.”
The observation made her throat tight. When was the last time anyone acknowledged that she might need rest? Might want something for herself?
“What do you want, Willow?” Decker asked softly. “Really want. Not what’s practical or what everyone else needs. What would make you happy? Do you want to live here? Raise a family?”
She had to really work to think about it, access that part of herself she’d buried under years of responsibility and caretaking. The silence stretched between them as she sorted through possibilities she’d never allowed herself to consider.
“In this house?” she asked.
He nodded.
She dragged in a deep breath. “I love this house. So much. The history, the family memories, all of it. But there’s a lot of adults with a lot of strong personalities under this roof.
I’d love to have a big house like this someday—to fill it up with our own kids, make our own memories.
But not here. Not surrounded by six brothers who’ll have opinions about every parenting decision we make. ”
A smile tugged at his lips. “Do you have a location picked out for that dream home?”
She looked at him for a long moment, wondering if he already knew the answer. They’d spent so much time together over the past months, working with the horses, riding across the property. He paid attention to things most people missed.
“You know where.” She snuggled closer.
“The south field.”
“Yes.” Relief flooded through her that she didn’t have to explain it, didn’t have to justify or defend her choice. “The view from there—you can see the whole valley and the mountains in the distance. I’ve stood on that rise so many times, just looking out at the land, imagining what it could be.”
“I know.” He grazed his lips over her brow once, twice. “I’ve seen you up there. Sometimes you’d watch the sunset, and the light would catch your hair, and I’d have to remind myself to look away before someone noticed I couldn’t stop staring.”
The admission made her heart squeeze. “You were watching me?”
“Always.” His hand cupped her face, thumb tracing across her cheekbone. “Even when I couldn’t let you know it, I was always watching you.”
“We could build something beautiful up there.” Her dream took shape as she spoke. “Big windows to see the view, a wraparound porch, maybe a barn close enough that we could hear the horses in the morning.”
“A garden,” Decker added. “You’ve always wanted a garden.”
Stunned, she drew back to study his face. “How do you know that?”
“You mentioned it once, when you were checking on that mare with the injured leg. You said something about wanting to grow your own vegetables someday, have fresh herbs right outside the kitchen door.”
The fact that he remembered such a small, throwaway comment made tears prick her eyes. This was what it felt like to be truly seen, truly known.
“It would be ours,” she whispered. “Just ours. A place where we could be ourselves without anyone else’s expectations or needs pressing in.”
“Then that’s what we’ll build.” He spoke with absolute certainty. “When you’re ready. There’s no rush.”
But suddenly, there was a rush. She wanted that future with a fierceness that surprised her. Wanted to wake up in their house, in their bed, with their view of the Black Heart Ranch spread out before them.
Wanted to build something that was entirely theirs.
“I love you, Decker.” The words felt inadequate for the depth of what she felt.
“I love you too.” He kissed her then, soft and sweet and full of promise. “And I’m going to build that house for you, Willow.”
“For us,” she corrected.
“For us.”
She kissed him again, deeper this time, her hands sliding over the warm planes of his chest. The conversation had stirred something in her—a hunger not just for his body but for the future they’d just painted together.
“Show me.” She nipped at his lips. “Show me what it’ll be like when it’s just us. No brothers down the hall, no family obligations, just you and me.”
He didn’t hesitate. His hands moved over her with renewed purpose, and she arched into his touch, losing herself in the sensation. This was their beginning—not just sharing a room in her family’s house, but building toward something entirely their own.
Heat coiled low in her belly as he swept his hands down her sides, his rough palms dragging over her curves like he already owned them. She threaded her fingers through his hair and kissed him harder, drinking in the taste of him, the certainty of him.
When his hand slid beneath her top, she gasped against his mouth, the brush of his callused thumb teasing the underside of her breast. Every nerve in her body sparked to life.
“Decker…” Her whisper came out half plea, half dare.
He growled softly in answer, tugging her shirt up and off, tossing it aside without breaking the kiss. His mouth slanted over hers, greedy now, and she clung to his shoulders, her nails biting lightly into muscle.
The mattress dipped as he shifted them, stretching out beside her. He skimmed a hand down her stomach, stopping at the waist of her panties. With maddening slowness, he tugged the cloth down, down…down.
When he plunged his fingertips between her thighs, she jolted.
“You’re already so wet.” His low growl of satisfaction made her clench with anticipation.
She whimpered, her hips arching up to meet him. He covered her mouth with his own, swallowing every sound. Each stroke, every strum of his fingertips grew firmer, more insistent.
The first slow circle over her clit had her gasping into his mouth. Her thighs trembled as he worked her like he’d memorized exactly how to undo her. She clutched at his shoulders, desperate for more friction, more of him.
“Please,” she breathed.
His lips trailed down her jaw, his stubble scraping deliciously against her skin. “Please what?” His fingers teased at her entrance, stroking just inside before retreating.
“Don’t stop!” Her voice broke on a moan as he slid two thick fingers into her.
Her back arched off the bed, every muscle tightening. He thrust slow and deep, curling his fingers until her vision blurred. His thumb rubbed circles over her clit, the perfect rhythm building her higher and higher until she saw nothing but the stars in his eyes.
She clung to him, panting into his neck, inhaling the clean scent of soap and pure Decker. Between whispered promises of all the pleasure he would give her, he kissed her until she quaked.
“That’s it, love. Let go for me. I’ve got you.”
The pressure inside her coiled impossibly tight, every stroke of his fingers drawing her closer to the edge. Then he pressed his mouth to hers again, deep and claiming, and she shattered.
Her cry was muffled against his lips as wave after wave rolled through her. She convulsed around his fingers, gripping him like she’d never let go, every nerve exploding with pleasure.
He held her through it, kissing her softly now, murmuring her name as if it were the only word he ever wanted to say. Slowly, the tremors eased, and she collapsed against him, boneless and dazed.
“I love you,” she whispered again, because no other words could capture the way he made her feel—safe, cherished, alive.
He closed his fingers lightly over her hip. “And I’m not done proving it.”
She smiled against his chest, heart racing, body still humming from release. Whatever came next—threats, secrets, family chaos—this moment belonged to them. And she knew he’d fight to protect it.
* * * * *
Her mouth was everywhere—hot, wet, driving him out of his goddamn mind.
Decker’s head hit the pillow and he fisted the sheets, muscles straining as Willow’s lips trailed down his chest. Every scrape of her teeth, every teasing flick of her tongue over his chest, his abs, had him fighting for control.
The ranch house was quiet for once. No brothers stomping down the hall, no voices drifting in from the kitchen. Just them, alone in her room, and the storm she was creating under his skin.
“Jesus, Willow…”
Her tongue navigated his love trail down his abs. He was already hard, thick and aching, straining against the waistband of his briefs. She made quick work of them, tugging them down until his cock sprang free.
Her eyes gleamed before she wrapped her fingers around him.
Fire seared through him at the first stroke. Then her mouth closed over the head of his cock, and he nearly lost it right there.
“Fuck!” The curse was ripped from his throat as her tongue swirled, her lips sliding lower, taking him deeper. She worked him with a slow, steady rhythm, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked, her tormenting hand stroking the base in time.
Every nerve in his body went taut. Nothing had ever come fucking close to this. To her.
Every drag of her mouth felt like devotion, every swallow like she was claiming him as hers.
She made a sound—half moan, half hum—that vibrated down his shaft and had his hips jerking upward.
“Love…slow down or I’m not gonna last.” His warning came out rough, desperate. She only looked up at him with those big eyes, lips stretched around him, and sucked harder.
That was it. He couldn’t take another second or he’d embarrass himself like a teenager. With a groan, he grabbed her under the arms and hauled her up his body, rolling onto his back so she sprawled on top of him.
Her surprised laugh was muffled against his mouth as he kissed her hard, tasting himself on her tongue. The mix of salt and heat only stoked the fire rocketing through him.
“You’re gonna kill me.”
“Maybe that’s the plan.” When she ground down against him, the wet heat of her core against his rigid length, the playfulness in her eyes turned molten.
“You feel what you do to me?” His voice turned to a hoarse rumble.
Her breath caught. In answer, she rocked against him, slickness coating him, and he nearly blacked out from the sensation.
She braced her hands on his chest, hair spilling around them like a curtain. Slowly, she shifted, guiding him to her entrance. The first press of her around the head of his cock had him groaning into her neck.
“Look at me.” His voice broke on the order. She lifted her chin, gaze locking on his, and he held it as she sank down. Inch by inch, she took him in, stretching around him until he was fully seated inside her.
They both froze, breathing ragged, hearts pounding. The connection stole the air from his lungs. She was everywhere—wrapped around him, filling the hollow places in his chest he hadn’t realized were empty until now.
She started to move then, in slow rolls of her hips that had him seeing stars. He gripped her waist, letting her set the pace, watching her come apart above him. Her breasts bounced with each movement, her mouth parted on gasps, her skin glowing in the shimmer of moonlight.
He thrust up to meet her rhythm, harder now, the sound of their bodies joining filling the quiet room. Every slap of flesh, every moan, every whispered name etched itself into his soul.
“You feel so good,” she panted, riding him faster, chasing her release.
His tongue tangled with hers as his thrusts grew urgent. He was close, too close, but he held back, wanting to feel her break apart first.
Three more thrusts, then four and she cried out, her orgasm tearing through her. He felt every pulse, every damn squeeze…and that was all it took.
With a guttural groan, he came hard, spilling into her, clutching her to him like he’d never let go.
For a long moment, they stayed locked together, hearts hammering in sync. He smoothed her hair back, kissed her damp temple, whispered words he hadn’t meant to say but couldn’t stop.
“I love you. More than I ever thought I could love anyone.”
She pressed a soft kiss to his chest, right over his pounding heart. “I love you too, so damn much.”
The words settled in his bones, grounding him even as everything else felt like it was spinning. He’d thought he knew what love was, but this—her, them—this was something else. Something he’d fight like hell to protect.