SAGE
18
There was something soothing about Kade following me in his truck, ensuring my safety while we navigated the winding road to my family’s ranch. The headlights in my rearview had been a constant reminder that I’m not alone. And with that came a belief that had settled deep in my bones—this man would assuredly do some sketchy shit to make sure no harm comes to me. I’m not quite certain why I feel that way, but there it is. Hell, maybe it’s simply the possessive look that emanates from his eyes. I’ve seen it more than once—especially in the last week or so, and for sure ever since shit went south that night with Toby at the bar. And I don’t even want to think about what Kade would do if he knew about the Samuel situation. I’ve been blocking that freak show out of my thoughts for days.
Dropping my bag on the bench in the entryway, I hang my keys on the hook, then turn on my heel to lock myself inside. For several seconds, I lean my forehead against the door, attempting to anchor my scattered thoughts. Kade said we’re friends, but with the way he touches me, I’d wager we’re more than that. My teeth nip at my bottom lip, swollen from his kisses. Taking a further accounting of myself, I’m very aware of the dampness between my legs. Friends who fuck? More?
Those simple words throw me headlong into a highlight reel of every hungry look he’s given me, every kiss, every orgasm. The most difficult part is that I don’t know if we’re ready for what something more between us would mean.
Exhaling steadily, I listen for the usual creaks and groans of our farmhouse… and more importantly the sounds that signal my father might be awake. All I hear is blissful silence. No bellowing voice. No TV playing some old movie. No video from his glory days that takes him back to a time he’d be better off forgetting. He should put it all in the rearview. Move on. It only reminds him of a time when my mother was here—when he and his wife were happy—so why look back?
Dad will never approve of a relationship between his little girl and a Rivers. It’s as if he blames their entire family for Jonah’s death and Mom’s subsequent decline and departure. It hadn’t taken long after those two events for him to begin to change for the worse. I chew on my lip as I’m overcome by horrific memories of those days… and all the grotesque things that followed. Things that make me so sad and sick and angry all at once. And the hell of it is, I’m forever tied to this family. This ranch. This place where my life went sideways.
Kade’s words and actions make me hope for a life I probably won’t ever get to experience. He makes me want things I never thought I could have. And if he keeps showing up for me like he has been, keeps proving to me that he cares, I’ll be entering very dangerous territory. Because the closer I get to him, the more likely it will be that he’ll learn far, far too much.
I heave out a breath, shoving those heart-wrenching thoughts aside. I have to because finding out I’ve been spending time with Kade Rivers would send my father right over the edge—and the only person who would be around to feel the repercussions is me. The last time Dad waved his shotgun around, he’d been furious at the idea that Kade might be somewhere on our land. He hadn’t succeeded in finding us in the barn, and I don’t care to imagine what would have happened if he’d caught us.
I listen again for a few moments before I convince myself it’s safe to move. It seems Ridge Everett has found his bed already tonight, and for that I’m grateful. Taking a deep breath, I push away from the door and go about my pre-bedtime routine. The windows on the ground floor have to be locked and all the lights turned off, save for the one over the stove. My feet know exactly the right places to step on the old wood flooring. I’ve become very familiar with how to sidestep the especially noisy boards, aware that one false move could make my evening go to hell quick. Once Dad’s gone to sleep, that’s usually it for the night, but I’d be an idiot not to exercise caution.
After grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, I noiselessly creep up the stairs and down the hall to my room. Stepping inside, I close the door quietly behind me, and as I do, I stumble, catching something with the toe of my boot. “Ow!” I gasp aloud, cringing at the volume of that single pained word.
Stooping, I fumble for the offending item in the dark. Right . Just the pair of boots that I decided against wearing tonight. I hadn’t ever returned them to the closet before work this evening. I set them out of the way, then proceed to my dresser where I rummage around the top drawer by feel, pulling out a tank top and pair of stretchy boy shorts to sleep in. In the bathroom, I strip down and take a quick shower—minus the hair wash—then brush my teeth and fall into bed, exhausted.
But even though I’m tired, I can’t keep my mind from jumping back to every moment of the time I spent with Kade’s eyes on me tonight. I could feel him watching me throughout my shift, and then… I’m treated to memories of what we’d done in the parking lot at my truck. His big, rough hands on me. His denim-co vered cock hard between my legs. His wicked lips on mine.
Practically sweltering at the reminder, I throw the sheet from my body and the fan cools me enough that I feel myself falling asleep.
“Kade,” I moan, reaching for him in the darkness as my heart rate climbs upward. With my back arching like a cat and my nipples hardening, his hands roam. It’s teasing touches at first, then firmer. There’s something about him, the way he’s commanding but gentle. It leaves me reeling and needy for him. When his hands are on my body, there’s no way to stop the feeling that rolls through me like the rumble of thunder on a hot summer night. My breath hitches as tension coils in my lower abdomen. I want him to touch me, want to feel him inside me again. Once was definitely not enough.
His hand settles on my hip, and I shift with a soft sigh as he moves it across my stomach, dipping under the thin material of my tank top before traveling up to my breast. He roughly cups me as his hot breath drifts over my ear.
The moan he lets out isn’t what I’m expecting. Bit by bit, my subconscious mind recognizes I’m caught in a dream I can escape. As the man behind me continues to grope my breasts, he groans out, “Alice,” gritty and low. The familiar voice scratches at the outer corners of my mind like I should know who it belongs to. My brows furrow in sleep. “Alice.” This time, the moan of the name—clearly not my own—makes a horrific shudder run through me. Hands clutch at me, needy, desperate, and very, very demanding.
With a stunned jolt, I’m dragged fully from sleep to a wakeful state.
To a horrific place I’ve been before.
To a living nightmare I’d hoped to never revisit.
No ! I suck in a breath so I can scream, but all that comes out at first is a strangled cry of protest. Then, as the hands become bruising in their mission, I try again. “N-no! S-stop,” I manage to gasp, the breath jerking from my chest as reality crashes heavily down on me. Please. Not again . A ragged whimper tears from my lips. I don’t know if I’ll survive it this time.
“Alice. Fucking love you. Why’d you leave me?” he rasps.
The voice belongs to my father. Alice is not his wife. And I’m definitely not the woman he seeks. Fear claws its way up my throat, and I outright scream, thrashing in his tight grip. “Dad, wake up! Stop!” I cry, disgust spilling through me as he holds me tighter to him. His erection at my back makes me sick. A surge of bile hits my throat, and I only barely manage not to throw up.
The rough hand diving between my thighs has me renewing my efforts to get away. Terror crashes through me. Please! I can’t! I draw in another breath to shout, but the arm around me clamps around my chest, his hand holding onto my bicep so I can’t even attempt to swing my elbow backward into his gut.
Desperation claws at me with every gasped breath. Every anguished sob, every distressed movement I make only seems to spur him on. He grinds himself against my backside as his fingers eagerly seek a way inside my panties. “Come on, Alice-girl. Don’t play coy. Give Big Daddy what he wants.”
I whimper as tears fill my eyes, knowing I have very little chance at escape. It’ll be like every time before. “Dad,” I choke out. “Please stop! N-nooo!” My voice breaks, and I openly weep, salty streams of misery flowing hard and fast down my cheeks as he gets a hold of the hem of my panties and forcibly yanks them down around my thighs, baring me to him. I move wildly now. Wretchedly. Desperate to make this horror show stop. But his sheer size puts him at a distinct advantage. My limbs grow weary as I continue in my attempt to fight off his disgusting advances.
This dark room filled with a sick drunk man’s grunts and groans is my unending prison.
Near hopeless, but unwilling to give up, my eyes flick around in the dark. That’s when I notice that in my struggle to escape, I’ve managed to wriggle close to the left side of the bed. My head screams against the only thing I can think might give me a fighting chance. It’s now or never.
For a split second, I let my body go limp, let him touch me, though it makes my skin crawl, and sourness rushes up in my stomach and into my mouth. My father chuckles, the sound disturbing as it reverberates deep in his chest. “That’s it, Alice. That’s it.”
And now that I’ve stopped struggling, he’s loosened his hold. As a last-ditch effort, I lunge toward the edge of the mattress, clawing at the sheets to help me scurry away from him. My arm shoots toward the bookshelf next to the bed, and blindly, I grab at anything I can get my hand on. The back of it hits something solid, and the resulting crash makes me cry out in frustration. I frantically scramble for anything that might help, the tips of my fingers catching on the edge of my wood jewelry box, but that lands on the floor with what feels like a deafening crack. A framed photo of Jonah and me follows. At my back, Dad grumbles angrily, swearing as he dives after me.
On a wet, hiccupping sob, I make one last desperate bid for freedom and come up with something weighty. I grasp it securely in my hand just before my father knocks both of us off the bed and to the hardwood floor.
I roll. Lift my arm. And swing downward with every ounce of strength I have left.