Chapter Four #2
By the time we reached the porch, the full weight of our sleepless night had settled over us. We kicked off our muddy boots at the door, too tired to care about the mess we tracked onto the hardwood.
"I'm going to shower," Honey announced, making a face at her dirt-streaked clothes.
I nodded, too exhausted to form words. While she showered, I made coffee, moving through the kitchen on autopilot. My muscles ached from tension and exertion, and my eyelids felt weighted.
When she emerged in fresh pajamas, hair damp and face scrubbed clean, I took my turn in the bathroom. The hot water revived me slightly, washing away the grime but not the lingering emotion of what we'd shared. By the time I finished, wrapped in just a towel, the house had grown quiet.
I found Honey in the bedroom, curled on her side atop the covers, fast asleep.
The pillow fortress she'd built down the middle of the bed had collapsed entirely, leaving no boundary between her side and mine.
I watched her for a moment—the gentle rise and fall of her breathing, the way her damp hair curled against her cheek.
I should have rebuilt that pillow wall, restored the barrier we'd agreed on to keep things professional.
Instead, I carefully lowered myself onto the mattress beside her, not bothering to resurrect our makeshift boundary. Within moments, sleep claimed me too.
I woke to warmth and the subtle scent of lavender shampoo mixed with something uniquely Honey.
Sunshine streamed through the windows, telling me we'd slept well past morning and into the afternoon.
Somehow during our sleep, we'd gravitated toward each other.
Honey's back was pressed against my chest, my arm draped over her waist, our legs tangled beneath the quilt someone—probably her—had pulled over us.
I should have moved away before she noticed. Should have kept to our agreement. But her body fit against mine like she belonged there, and I couldn't bring myself to break that connection.
Then she shifted, a small movement that brought her hips flush against mine. Even through the layers of our clothing, the contact sent heat rushing south. I went still, suddenly very aware of my body's reaction to her closeness.
Honey made a soft noise, somewhere between a sigh and a moan, and pressed back more deliberately. Not asleep, then.
"Honey," I whispered, her name coming out huskier than intended.
She turned within the circle of my arms until we were face to face, her hazel eyes meeting mine. No teasing light, no sarcasm, just pure desire that knocked the breath from my lungs.
"Heath," she breathed, and the sound of my name on her lips snapped whatever thread of restraint I had left.
I closed the distance between us, my lips finding hers. The first touch was tentative, questioning, but when she responded—lips parting, body arching toward mine—tentative became hungry.
Her hands slid up my chest to my shoulders, nails dragging lightly as I deepened the kiss. I tasted coffee and something sweeter, uniquely her. One hand tangled in her hair while the other traveled down her side to her hip, pulling her closer.
"Is this...?" I managed between kisses. "Are you sure?"
"God, yes," she gasped against my mouth. "I've been wanting this since I saw you half-naked yesterday morning."
That confession sent a surge of heat through me that had nothing to do with the afternoon sun. I rolled us so she lay beneath me, my weight supported on my forearms. Her hair fanned out across my pillow, cheeks flushed, lips already swollen from my kisses.
"You're beautiful, Counselor," I told her, meaning it more than any words I'd ever spoken.
Her lips curved into a mischievous grin as she reached between us, hand sliding down my stomach to the waistband of my sleep pants. "And you're overdressed, Cowboy."
I kissed her again, harder this time, all pretense of restraint abandoned.
Her legs parted, allowing me to settle between them, the thin fabric of our clothes doing nothing to disguise how much we both wanted this.
When I rolled my hips against hers, she moaned into my mouth, the sound traveling straight to my cock.
My lips traveled from her mouth to her jaw, then lower to the sensitive skin of her neck. She squirmed beneath me, hands pushing impatiently at my clothes. I sat back long enough to pull my shirt over my head, then helped her out of hers.
The sight of her bare breasts made my throat go dry. Small but perfect, with dusky nipples that tightened under my gaze. I lowered my head, taking one peak into my mouth, circling it with my tongue before sucking gently. Her back arched off the bed, a strangled "Heath" escaping her lips.
I lavished attention on both breasts while my hand slid lower, under the waistband of her sleep shorts. She was already wet, slick heat greeting my fingers as I stroked her center.
"Please," she breathed, hips rising to meet my touch.
I kissed my way down her stomach, tugging her shorts and underwear down her legs as I went. She watched through half-lidded eyes as I settled between her thighs, my intentions clear.
The first stroke of my tongue against her pussy made her gasp, hands flying to grip the sheets. I took my time, exploring every fold and curve, learning what made her breath catch and what made her moan. When I circled her clit before sucking gently, her thighs trembled on either side of my head.
I slid one finger inside her, then two, curling them to find the spot that made her back bow off the mattress.
Her taste on my tongue, her whimpers above me, the way she rocked against my mouth had my head spinning.
I wanted to stay here forever, bringing her pleasure until neither of us could remember why this was supposed to be a bad idea.
"Heath," she panted, one hand finding my hair. "I'm close."
I doubled my efforts, tongue flicking faster as my fingers maintained their rhythm. When her thighs clamped around my head and her body went rigid, I held her through the waves of her orgasm, easing only when her grip on my hair loosened.
Before she could recover, I crawled back up her body, claiming her mouth in a deep kiss that let her taste herself on my tongue. She moaned, hands fumbling with the waistband of my pants.
"I need you inside me," she demanded, pushing the fabric down my hips. "Now."
I wasn't about to argue. I stripped off the rest of my clothes, positioning myself at her entrance. For a heartbeat, I searched her face. "Protection?"
"I'm on the pill," she assured me. "And clean. You?"
"Clean," I confirmed. "I get tested regularly."
"Then what are you waiting for, Cowboy?" she challenged, wrapping her legs around my waist.
I pushed into her slowly, watching her face as I filled her.
The tight, wet heat around my cock almost had me losing it right there.
I had to close my eyes and think about horse vaccination schedules to keep from embarrassing myself.
When I was fully seated, we both stayed still, adjusting to the sensation.
"Jesus, Honey," I murmured against her neck, voice strained. "You feel amazing."
She responded by rolling her hips, urging me to move. I began a steady rhythm, not too fast but deep, hitting spots that made her gasp with each thrust. Her nails scored my back, marking me as surely as I'd branded cattle.
"Harder," she demanded, meeting each thrust.
I complied, driving into her with increasing intensity.
The bed frame protested with each movement, the headboard thumping against the wall as we moved together, finding a perfect sync that had us both climbing rapidly toward release.
I shifted the angle slightly, hitting a spot that made her cry out.
"Right there," she gasped, fingers digging into my shoulders. "Don't stop."
I maintained the position, feeling her tighten around me as her second orgasm approached. When she shattered beneath me, inner walls clenching around my cock in pulsing waves, I nearly lost my rhythm.
She surprised me by pushing against my chest until I rolled onto my back. Without breaking our connection, she straddled me, taking control. The sight of her above me, hair wild and body flushed with pleasure, was something I knew I'd remember until my dying day.
"My turn to ride," she said with a wicked smile that was so purely Honey it made my chest ache.
She braced her hands on my chest and began to move, setting a pace that had us both gasping. When she leaned down to kiss me, I seized the opportunity to flip us again, pinning her beneath me as I drove toward my own release.
"Honey," I groaned, feeling the pressure build. "I'm close."
"Cum for me," she urged, wrapping her legs tighter around me.
Three more deep thrusts and I was gone, pleasure crashing through me as I pulsed inside her. I collapsed beside her, both of us breathing hard, bodies slick with sweat.
For several minutes, we just lay there, neither speaking. Her hand found mine on the sheet between us, fingers intertwining. Something about that simple touch felt more intimate than what we'd just done.
The shrill ring of my phone shattered the moment. I considered ignoring it until I saw Knox's name on the screen.
"Hey," I answered, voice still rough.
"Heath! Just checking in," Knox's cheerful voice came through the speaker. "Bitsy and I should be there around four this afternoon. That still work?"
This afternoon. My brother—Honey's ex—and his fiancée would be here in just a few hours.
While I lay here, with the taste of my brother's ex-girlfriend still on my lips, her warmth still wrapped around me.
A complicated tangle of guilt, defiance, and something that felt dangerously like possessiveness knotted in my gut.
"Sure," I managed, watching Honey's expression shift as she put together who was calling. "We'll be ready."
"Great! Bitsy's got some big news she's dying to share. Can't wait to see you—and meet this mystery girlfriend that's apparently the talk of Bitter Root."
After I hung up, Honey and I stared at each other, the complicated reality of our situation crashing back like a bucket of ice water. This wasn't just about us anymore—if it ever had been.
"Knox and Bitsy," she said flatly. "Today?"
"Yeah. They'll be arriving at four."
Neither of us mentioned what had just happened between us, or what it meant. The unspoken question hung in the air: Had this made our fake relationship more convincing, or infinitely more complicated?
But as I looked at her—really looked at her—I knew one thing for certain: what I felt for Honey March wasn't fake anymore. And that terrified me more than any business deal gone wrong ever could.