KADE
24
I’m nervous as fuck to take Sage back to Lilac Meadows. She hasn’t said a word since we left my house. Her silence isn’t just quiet—it’s thick, suffocating, wrapping around us like a noose. She’s rigid in her seat, back straight, legs pressed together. I get the impression she’s trying to brace herself; steeling her mind so the weight of what we’re driving toward won’t crush her. Her fingers curl tight around the door handle, her grip so white-knuckled it looks like her bones might push through the skin. With her jaw locked and muscles clenched, she stares straight ahead, her eyes fixed on the house in the distance. The house where she killed him .
The tension coils in my gut. I feel it creeping into my bones, stirring something low in my chest that has nothing to do with anger and everything to do with protecting what’s mine.
I pull the truck to a stop, gravel crunching beneath the tires. The engine idles, humming like a restless animal waiting for the next move. Sage doesn’t stir in her seat. She doesn’t unbuckle, doesn’t shift, doesn’t even blink. Her breathing is measured control, but I see she’s fighting for it. It’s in how her chest rises just a little too fast, and the way her throat works when she swallows.
She’s unraveling, but she won’t let herself fall apart. Not yet.
I follow her gaze to her bedroom window. She’s reliving it, every detailed second of Ridge Everett taking his last breath. Even though he’s gone, she’s still petrified, haunted by the place where she claimed the last lease of life from the man who caused her nothing but pain.
My jaw tightens. If she asked me to, I’d light this place on fire and then piss on the ashes. Or maybe I’d make it suffer first. Draw it out. Let it feel the same kind of slow, creeping dread Sage does every time she lays eyes on it. Probably not normal to fantasize about brutalizing a fucking building, but hey—I never claimed to be a normal guy.
I unbuckle my seat belt, lean toward her, and tip her chin up, forcing her to look at me instead. My fingers linger on her jaw, my thumb tracing the edge of her cheekbone, grounding her back in the present, back to me.
“We’re not staying in that fucking house.” The words are low, firm, and undeniable. At least not yet. I’ll hold her hand while she takes baby steps.
Sage blinks up at me, the slightest furrow between her brows. Almost as if she’d expected me to force her to go inside. Little does she know I’d never make her face something she’s not ready to.
“We’ll sleep in the barn. That way, we’re here, but you’re a little more comfortable.” Well, as comfortable as one can be next to the murder house.
The breath she releases is shaky, but it’s there. Her shoulders lose some of the tension, and her fingers unclench from the door handle. Good girl, Wildflower.
I kill the engine and the sudden silence presses in around us. The barn looms ahead, dark and familiar, a stark contrast to the building next to it. My door creaks when I shove it open, the hinges whining in protest. Gravel crunches under my boots as I round the truck.
She doesn’t look at me through the window, but I can see her fingers twitch against her lap, like she’s debating whether to move.
I reach for the handle and pull the door open. Crouching slightly, I level my gaze with hers. Sounds of her shallow breathing fill the cab as her eyes flicker to mine before darting away again.
I extend a hand. No words. Just the silent command that says, Come here.
She hesitates, just for a second, before slipping her hand into mine. It’s cold, though her grip is tight. I don’t let go as I guide her out until her boots hit the ground.
She stares at the barn. The towering wooden beams give way to the heavy doors that are slightly ajar, like an open invitation.
My palm finds the small of her back. Each step is calculated, like she’s expecting the ground to shift under her feet. The scent of hay, dust, and something else—something older, something that’s lived in these wooden bones for decades—settles around us. It’s quiet but not empty. Not hollow. This barn has seen Sage at her worst, and now it’s seeing her raw, tormented, but still standing.
She takes a step inside, then another. Her fingers glide across an old saddle slung over the railing, a breathy touch that grounds her in familiarity. I watch her shoulders drop, tension bleeding out of her frame, bit by bit. Still not enough, though.
I move in behind her, close but not touching, just enough so she feels me. Enough so she knows I’m there, a presence she doesn’t have to fight.
“What’s wrong, Wildflower?”
Her breath stutters. She bites her lip and hesitates.
I tilt my head, watching her, knowing the answer before she speaks. My fingers graze her cheek, knuckles trailing along soft skin. “Talk to me.” My voice is low and rough.
She swallows hard. “I need a distraction. ”
That’s it. That’s all I need to hear.
She’s doesn’t need a fucking savior, right now. Not like she did last night. She needs something more, something dirtier, something darker to pull her away from the memories infiltrating her pretty little head. I don’t give her time to change her mind. My hands are on her before she can blink. Grabbing her hips, I haul her up onto the hood of the vintage 1964 Massey Ferguson 135 tractor that’s next to us. This beauty was Ridge’s pride and joy. Fucking his daughter on it is like giving him the middle finger from above the grave… or in his case, above the field.
Her breath stutters, thighs spreading instinctively as I settle between them.
Fuck.
I grip the metal frame on either side of her, caging her in. She’s trapped, her body burning against mine. The contrast is intoxicating—her softness and warmth against the cold, worn metal of the tractor.
She looks at me, breathless, lips parted like she’s about to say something, but I don’t give her the chance.
I drag my hands up her thighs, spreading them wider until she’s forced to feel the way I’m already hard for her. I want her to know exactly what she does to me. I need her to feel the consequences of letting me get this close. “This what you want?” My voice is a greedy rasp, words dripping with hunger .
She nods, breath hitching. Not good enough, baby. I need you to beg for it.
I grip her jaw, tilting her face. My thumb brushes her bottom lip, pressing down slightly, watching as her breath shudders against my skin. So fucking pretty. So fucking wreckable. “Use your words, Wildflower.”
Her pulse thrums beneath my fingers, a wild and erratic beat that’s just for me. She’s drowning in the moment, as she should be. I want her lost in this. Want her immersed in every fiber of this interaction until all she feels is a man possessed.
A growl rumbles low in my chest. Want isn’t a strong enough word. Need. Crave. Obsess. All more accurate descriptions.
“I want you , Kade. Please,” she whispers.
I tip my head forward, trailing my lips along the soft line of her throat, feeling her pulse hammer against my mouth. She tilts her chin up, offering herself to me without realizing it.
“You don’t just want me,” I murmur against her skin, inhaling—warm, sweet, something uniquely Sage—and it’s fucking addictive. “You need me.”
She gasps when my teeth graze her pulse point, a shudder running through her.
“Say it.” My grip tightens, fingers pressing into her hips, keeping her locked against me. “Tell me you fucking need me as much as I crave you. ”
Breathless, her nails dig into my shoulders as she clings to me. “I need you.”
A feral grin stretches across my lips. There’s my girl.
I shift my grip, pressing her down until her back is flat against the cold metal. I tug her toward the edge, lining my cock up against where she craves me most, making her feel exactly how much I hunger for her in return. She squirms, already restless, already desperate. I could tease her. Draw this out. Make her beg. But fuck, I’m not a patient man. I am impulsive, reckless, and utterly gone for the girl next door.
“Fuck, Sage,” I groan, rolling my hips against her. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done to me?”
Her head falls back with a sharp inhale, fingers twisting in the fabric of my shirt. Her body arches off the tractor like she’s starved for what only I can give her.
“You’re gonna wilt for me, Wildflower,” I promise, voice dripping with possession. A growl rips from my throat and my grip tightens as I pull her toward me, forcing her to look into my eyes when I claim her mouth.
The kiss is brutal. Desperate. Unforgiving.
I pour everything into it—everything I’ve done for her, everything I’ll keep doing. The blood on my hands. The bodies I’ve buried and disposed of. The way I’d burn the whole goddamn world alive if it meant keeping her safe.
I tear my mouth away, skim my lips down her jaw, across the column of her throat, feeling her pulse race beneath my tongue. “I fucking love you, Sage. And it’s maddening.” I clasp her throat, light but firm, making sure she feels it—feels me. “I’d kill for you.” I already have. I want to say those words, let her know how nothing can touch her, nobody but me. Someday soon I will tell her everything I’ve done to keep her safe; but not now, not tonight.
I bite her shoulder just enough to make her gasp. “You’re mine. To protect. To love. Mine, Sage. Next time you feel fear, I’ll be there to take it away.” I’ll bury any motherfucker who looks at her the wrong way. Fuck, anyone who looks at her at all.
Her breath hitches, nails digging into my arms.
“Say it,” I order, dragging my hands lower, teasing her but not giving her what she wants. “Say you love that I’d kill for you.”
Her body shudders beneath me, her thighs squeezing tighter around my waist.
“I love it,” she whispers. “I love knowing you’d kill for me.”
A smirk curves my lips. Good! Keep that in mind when I tell you I strangled your poor excuse of an ex.
“Damn right, you do.” I bite her bottom lip, capturing it between my teeth before releasing her, my breath hot against her mouth. “Because that means you’re mine, and nothing in this world is ever taking you from me. I’d kill any motherfucker who tries. ”
My hands are everywhere—gripping, owning, marking. I don’t need anything else from this life, not when I have this, not when I have her unraveling beneath my touch, gasping, begging, surrendering.
Her nails scratch down my arms, her body arching into me. She’s lost in it now. Lost in me.
I glide my mouth down the slope of her throat, sucking at the skin until I know she’ll wear me there for days. Let them all see. Let them all know exactly who she belongs to.
“Gonna wreck you for anyone but me, Wildflower,” I mutter against her skin, my voice low, dark, and laced with every filthy promise I intend to keep.
That’s it. That’s the moment I lose control.
The second the last thread of restraint snaps, I shove her against the cold metal of the tractor, trapping her between steel and my body. She gasps, her nails sinking into my shoulders, clawing at my skin like she’s trying to anchor herself. Like she knows I’m about to undo her.
Her breath hitches, her body jerking against mine, hips tilting up, seeking more. Always more. But I make her wait because she’s mine to control. Mine to ruin.
I let my hands roam over her stomach, up to her chest, gripping the thin fabric of her sundress in my fists before ripping it apart like it’s nothing. No panties in sight. A sharp inhale. A tremble. Then nothing but heat. Skin. Nothing but mine.
I spread her open, bare beneath me, savoring the way my hot breath skates over her fevered flesh, sending a shiver racing down her spine. I don’t tease. I don’t go slow. I take.
Within seconds, I free myself from my jeans and thrust into her, hard and deep, knocking the breath from her lungs. Her head falls back, a strangled cry spilling from her lips, and fuck, I love that sound. The sound of her breaking, of her unraveling for me.
She’s so tight, so fucking wet, and it’s all for me. Always for me.
Her body jolts with every snap of my hips, thighs locked around me as she claws at my chest—desperate, needy, like she can’t get close enough. Like she’ll die if I stop.
She won’t. But she’ll feel like she might.
I grip her hips, keeping her locked in place as I ease myself out, then slam back in, harder, deeper, setting a brutal rhythm that has her gasping, writhing, breaking beneath me. I watch every fucking second of her coming undone. The way her back bows, the way her lips part, the way she moans my name like it’s the only thing left in her head.
She doesn’t need to hold on to anything. I’ve got her. I always will.
I bite at her jaw, her throat, sucking bruises into her skin until she whimpers, until she’s marked—until she wears my touch like a fucking cattle brand.
“No one else touches you,” I rasp, my voice edged with hunger and something darker. “No one else ever gets to see you like this. No one else ever gets to fucking have you.”
She nods, barely able to breathe, barely able to think. Good. I don’t want her thinking. I want her consumed by me, and me alone.
I shift, pinning her harder against the tractor, angling myself deeper. Her head snaps back, mouth parting in a broken cry as I drive into her. “Say my name.” My thrusts turn rougher, deeper, punishing—pushing her to the very edge of pleasure and pain.
“Kade—”
I slam into her, my hand gripping her jaw, forcing her to look at me. “Scream it.”
And she does. She shatters around me, crying out, her body tightening, clenching, pulling me deeper, dragging me under as I lose myself in her completely.
A low, guttural groan rumbles from my chest, my hips jerking, my release spilling into her as I bury myself to the hilt, claiming her in the only way I know how.
She collapses against me, panting, shaking, and I don’t let her go.
Pulling her into my arms, my mouth brushes against her temple, words rough and possessive against her skin. “Nobody hurts you, baby. Not anymore.”
With her fingers still gripping my shirt, still holding onto me like I’m the only thing keeping her tethered to this earth, all I can think is, Fuck, do I love the thought of that .