Chapter 19
We meet Liam and Phern back at Knot and Spur, the sun now high enough to make the town shimmer with that post-snow glare. Everything’s wet, slushy, but warming like the world itself is thawing out right along with me.
Phern hoists our bags like its nothing, tossing them into the back of the truck with the kind of efficiency that only comes from being raised on a ranch. I glance at Sam, and he just shrugs with a grin.
“Don’t try to stop her. She gets violent when you offer to help.”
We pile into the truck, and this time I slide in first. Sam follows; thigh pressed against mine. It’s casual. Natural. The kind of closeness I never thought I’d feel with anyone again. Not after Kurt.
Liam starts the engine, glancing at us in the rearview. “People should be out to work on the bridge by Wednesday. Weather’s gonna be perfect for it.”
“That soon?” I blink. “It amazes me. First the flood, then the snow, and now you’re saying it’ll all melt in a few days? ”
“That’s Wyoming for you,” he says with a knowing grin. “We like to keep people on their toes.”
“Oklahoma was the same,” I say, watching the fields pass by outside the window. “Ice storm one day, tornado sirens the next.”
Phern twists in her seat to glance back at me. “Guess you’ll fit right in then.”
It’s a simple statement. Not warm, not cold. But there’s something in her voice, like maybe the walls are lowering just a little.
Sam’s hand slides into mine again. I squeeze his hand, and we ride in companionable silence as the town disappears behind us and the mountains loom once more, steady and unchanging.
Home.
Liam drops us off at the bridge, the tires crunching over gravel and slush.
He leans out the window with a grin. “I’ll be back Wednesday. Try not to blow the place up before then.”
“No promises,” Sam calls back, and Liam drives off with a wave.
The three of us carry our bags across the freshly cleared path to Sam’s truck. The sky is a bright, startling blue, and everything smells like damp earth and pine. It feels new. Fresh. Like we stepped out of one world and into another.
As soon as we’re inside the house, Phern squeals from the hallway.
“Power’s on!” she shouts, bolting toward her room. “I’m going to check the Wi-Fi!”
Sam glances at me, grinning. “She’s going to disappear for the rest of the day if it’s working.”
I arch a brow, feigning innocence. “Oh? And however will we entertain ourselves? ”
His smile turns wicked, slow and deliberate. “I believe I caught a glimpse of something pink in one of those bags. Pretty sure it’s been calling my name since you picked it up.”
I bite my lip, heat blooming under my skin. “Is that so?”
He takes a slow step closer, voice dropping low. “Ten minutes, darlin’. That’s all I’m giving you.”
My grip tightens on the bag as I back away, heading toward the bedroom with a coy smile. “Then you better be ready.”
“I’m always ready,” he calls after me, his voice full of promise.
And God help me I believe him.
I close the bedroom door behind me and set the bag on the bed, fingers tingling with anticipation as I dig out the lingerie. The pink, delicate lace set practically glows against the flannel sheets. It’s soft as air with just enough daring to make me blush.
I strip slowly, the air cool against my skin, every inch I uncover building the tension coiled in my stomach. I catch my reflection in the mirror. Bare legs, flushed skin, lace hugging every curve. I feel bold.
I crack the door and call softly, “Sam?”
His response is immediate. “Yeah?”
“You can come in now.”
The doorknob turns, and there he is, filling the doorway, eyes sweeping over me like I’m the only thing in the world that matters.
“Holy hell,” he breathes, voice roughened by awe.
He steps inside slowly, like he doesn’t want to startle the moment. His gaze tracks every inch of me, heat simmering behind those stormy eyes.
“You like it?” I ask, my voice soft but sure .
His lips twitch into something hungry. “Darlin’, I’m trying real hard not to drop to my knees right now.”
I smile, taking a step toward him. “Then don’t try so hard.”
And that’s all it takes.
He closes the distance like a man walking into a dream. His hands find my waist, fingers brushing reverently over the lace like it’s spun from something sacred. His gaze flickers up to mine, dark and undone, and then his mouth finds mine.
The kiss starts slow, like he’s trying to memorize the shape of me.
But it doesn’t stay soft for long. Heat floods in, raw and aching, as his hands slide up my sides, curling around my ribs.
He groans against my mouth as he lifts me effortlessly, laying me back against the mattress like I’m something precious.
And then he’s on me, his mouth at my throat, breath hot, teeth grazing skin, and my bra coming off fast, leaving me in the panties.
The panties aren’t so much removed as pulled aside, kissed through, undone inch by inch with a kind of worship that steals my breath. Every brush of his lips over lace, every drag of his fingertips along skin is deliberate. Slow. Designed to unravel.
“You have no idea,” he murmurs into the hollow of my throat, “how long I’ve been thinking about this.”
His voice is low and wrecked, rough as gravel, and it makes my toes curl. I arch into him, hands tangling in his hair, his name already falling from my lips in a whisper that barely holds together.
When he finally moves lower, dragging his mouth along the edge of the lace, I gasp, every nerve ending stretched tight, every breath hitching. And when he looks up at me, eyes stormy and fixed, voice a rasp? —
“Tell me what you want, Charlie.”
I don’t hesitate. “You. All of you. Now.”
His breath hitches at my words, and the shift is instant.
Sam’s hands tighten on my thighs, and the heat in his gaze darkens into something primal. Something that claims.
“You want all of me?” he murmurs, voice rough and teasing as his fingers drag slowly down my stomach. “Then you better be ready to earn it.”
I shiver, the rasp of his tone wrapping around me like velvet and fire. “Oh, I’m ready.”
“Are you?” he smirks, eyes flicking up. “Because once I start, darlin’, I’m not letting you off easy.”
I lift my chin, daring. “Good.”
In one fluid motion, he grabs both my wrists and pins them above my head, holding me there with one hand while the other trails back down, grazing the edge of the lace, but never quite giving me what I want.
“Look at you,” he drawls, mouth brushing the shell of my ear. “All pink lace and attitude. Thought you were in charge, didn’t you?”
“Maybe,” I whisper, breath catching as he drags a knuckle down the center of my chest.
He laughs low. “Cute.”
He shifts his weight, sliding a thigh between mine to pin me in place, and the pressure alone makes my back arch. Still holding my wrists, he dips his head to kiss me again—deep and slow—tongue teasing, claiming, retreating just when I lean into him.
He pulls back, letting his breath fan across my mouth. “You want me to keep going?”
I nod, desperate. “Yes.”
“Then beg.”
My breath stutters. “Sam?— ”
He tightens his grip. “I said beg.”
My cheeks flush, pulse hammering beneath his hold. But I don’t break eye contact.
“Please,” I whisper. “Please don’t stop. I need you.”
His eyes flare with heat. Satisfaction. Possession.
“There’s my good girl.”
And with that, he releases my wrists only to slide his hands down my body, gripping my hips as he lowers himself, slow and deliberate, like he has all the time in the world.
But the second his mouth lowers, the second I feel that first flick of tongue over lace I snap.
I push up with my thighs, twisting just enough to throw him off balance. His eyes go wide as I roll him beneath me, straddling his hips in one smooth motion.
“Darlin’,” he growls, half-laughing, half-stunned, “you trying to steal my thunder?”
I lean down, hands braced on his chest, lips brushing his jaw. “Not steal. Claim.”
His breath hitches as I grind down, slowly, deliberately, my lace-covered heat dragging over the denim that’s still hanging low on his hips.
“Thought I was the one in charge,” he murmurs, voice low, teasing.
I smile, wicked and slow. “Thought so too until you gave me permission to beg.”
I kiss him harder this time. Not sweet. Not soft. A kiss that says mine now. And he lets me. His hands slide to my thighs, gripping tight, but he doesn’t take over. Doesn’t flip me back. He lets me ride the edge of control, lets me test it, own it.
I sit up, dragging my fingers down the buttons of his shirt, slow and taunting. “Let’s get this off. ”
“You like what you see?” he asks, voice husky, a thread of challenge in it.
I pop the last button and lean forward again, breath hot against his ear.
“Like it?” I murmur. “I’m about to leave marks on it.”
His breath punches out of him in a laugh—dark and desperate. “Goddamn, Charlie.”
My nails rake down his chest, slow and claiming, and I roll my hips again just enough to feel him throb beneath me.
This time, he moans.
And I smile.
“Hands up,” I say, reaching for the pink lace bra still tangled on the bed.
He raises his arms without hesitation, eyes locked on mine.
“Don’t stop,” he warns.
I knot the lace around his wrists tight enough to make him groan. “Oh, I won’t.”
Then I press him back, fully pinned, and lean down again, my voice a promise on his lips.
“Your turn to beg.”
He lies beneath me, arms bound in pink lace, muscles tight with tension, anticipation simmering in every line of his body. His breath is already uneven, chest rising and falling like he’s trying not to lose it before I even begin.
Good.
I trail my fingers lightly down his arms, over his biceps, across the hard plane of his chest. Just a whisper of contact. Just enough to make him twitch.
“Charlie,” he rasps, voice tight with restraint.
“Mmm,” I hum, straddling his hips again, not moving. Just sitting in that delicious tension. “You wanted me in control, remember?”
His jaw clenches. “Didn’t think you’d take it this far.”
I lean forward, lips brushing his ear. “Oh, honey. I’m just getting started.”
I kiss a slow, lazy trail down his neck, letting my breath ghost over the spot that drives him crazy, my hands exploring every inch of skin like I’m memorizing it.
He shudders when I drag my tongue over the line between his abs, groaning as I pause just above where he’s straining, thick and hard beneath me.
“You look so good like this,” I murmur, nails raking gently down his sides. “Tied up. Quiet. Desperate.”
“Fuck,” he breathes, eyes shut tight. “You’re gonna kill me.”
“Not yet.”
I shift, grinding down just enough to tease. A soft, maddening drag of lace against sensitive skin. His hips buck, but I don’t give him what he wants. Not yet. I stay right at the edge, moving slow, torturous, just to watch him fall apart.
He’s groaning now, breath ragged, muscles trembling.
“Charlie,” he growls. “I swear to God…”
I tilt my head, smiling sweetly. “You swearing at me, cowboy?”
His eyes open—dark, undone, pleading.
“Please.”
There it is.
My victory.
I lean forward again, lips a breath from his. “ Good boy. ”
It’s electric the way his breath stutters, the way his hips twitch beneath me.
Keeping my gaze locked on his, I reach between us and unzip his jeans, slow and deliberate.
My fingers brush over him as I free him, thick and already pulsing.
His head tips back with a guttural groan, hands tugging at the lace binding like he wants to touch me, but he can’t.
He’s mine now. And I want him to feel it.
Then I give him exactly what he’s been begging for.
Pulling my lacy panties aside, I sink down onto him with agonizing control, every inch deliberate, watching the way his eyes glaze, the way his jaw clenches as he tries to hold back the moan that rips free.
“Jesus,” he gasps.
But I don’t stop.
I ride him slow. Deep. Every movement measured, every roll of my hips a promise and a punishment.
I stay just this side of merciless letting him feel every second of being beneath me.
At my mercy. At my pace. His body strains, shudders.
His voice breaks on my name. He begs again not for release, but for more.
And I give it. Because this? This is more than a power shift. It’s a reckoning. It’s a claim. It’s me loving him.
His breath is still catching when I collapse against his chest, skin flushed and damp, my body boneless with satisfaction. I can still feel the aftershocks pulsing through both of us. His heart thuds hard beneath my cheek, wild and steady at the same time. Mine matches it, beat for beat.
“Guess I should untie you,” I say with a grin.
He hums as I untie the bra, letting it fall to the side.
“Best purchase ever,” he says as his fingers brush up and down my spine in slow, hypnotic strokes, tracing along the curve of my back like he’s still trying to memorize every line.
I press a kiss to his chest, right over his heart, and whisper, “Okay, you’re forgiven.”
He huffs a laugh, low and warm. “For what? ”
“For thinking you were the only one who could take control.”
His chest rumbles with a deeper laugh this time. “You proved me wrong, darlin’. Thoroughly.”
I smile against his skin, eyes fluttering shut.
Outside the window, the sky is softening with light bleeding gently through clouds still low and heavy with the last bits of snow. Inside, the house is quiet. No tension. No storm. Just the soft crackle of the fireplace and the tangled rhythm of our breathing.
“You good?” he murmurs after a long silence.
I nod, eyes still closed. “Better than.”
He presses a kiss to the crown of my head. “You wreck me, you know that?”
I hum. “Only fair. You wrecked me first.”
His hand tightens slightly around me, like he heard more than I meant to say.
But he doesn’t push.
And I don’t pull away.
We just lie there, wrapped in heat and calm and something we haven’t quite named yet but feels like more than want.
It feels like something that might last.