6. Christian
Christian
The silence at dinner was deafening. Sitting there, watching Travis and Piper, was like watching two strangers forced to share space and a meal. Whatever spark they had in those first few weeks—the one I tried like hell to ignore—has fizzled out faster than a match in a thunderstorm.
They’ve never been the kind of couple who couldn’t keep their hands off each other—thank fuck for small mercies—but in the beginning, they laughed easily and talked like it came naturally.
There was something effortless about them back then.
Considering it wasn’t that long ago they started dating, the shift and the way they’re practically hostile toward each other now feels too fast, like they’ve crashed and burned before they even got off the ground.
And now, here I am, four in the goddamn morning, wide awake in my bed, thinking about it.I shouldn’t notice these things.I shouldn’t catch the way the light fades in Piper’s eyes whenever Travis opens his mouth, like someone just turned down the brightness on everything good about her.
It isn’t my business.
None of this is my fucking business.
But God help me, I can’t stop wanting what I can’t have. I can’t stop my hands from aching to touch what belongs to my own flesh and blood.
Fuck all of this.
I need to get up.
I need to work.
I need to do anything but lie here in the dark thinking about a woman I can never have, counting all the ways my son doesn’t deserve her.
Yeah, I heard myself, and I’ll beat myself bloody with the guilt later.
There are four weeks until Christmas, which is the only reason Travis is here playing wannabe ranch hand, like a couple of half-assed workdays will somehow make up for a lifetime of privilege and entitlement.
If he wants this business someday… Christ.
It doesn’t feel right to leave it to him. Something doesn’t sit well in my gut about it. But tradition runs deeper than blood in the Crawford family, and the eldest son always inherits. Even if said son is an entitled little shit who wouldn’t know hard work if it bit him in the ass.
Three generations of Crawford blood, sweat, and tears have soaked into this soil.
My youngest brother, Colt, took off to chase his dreams—can’t fault him for it, he’s actually made something of himself, and I’ve never been prouder—and Callan is happy running his bar in town, pouring drinks and keeping the locals drunk and entertained.
So here I am, carrying on the family legacy. Not that I mind. I knew this was my future from the moment I could walk, and most days, I’m content. This land is in my blood. It’s as much a part of me as the air in my lungs.
I had other dreams once.
I wanted a house full of kids and a beautiful wife to come home to, but the universe had other plans and made me a father when I was still just a kid myself.
Now, some higher power—or whatever sick bastard is up there pulling the strings—has dropped Piper into my life, and just to really drive the point home that I’m never getting it all, it’s decided to bend me over and fuck me with a twelve-inch cock by giving her to my son.
I throw back the covers and drag a hand down my face, feeling the scruff that’s been growing for days.
Sleep’s a lost cause, and Piper’s living rent-free in my head anyway, so I figure I might as well give up and get coffee.
My legs swing over the side of the bed, my bare feet hitting the cold hardwood floor, and the shock of it does nothing to clear my head.
I roll my shoulders, working out the knots from another night of tossing and turning, and don’t bother with a shirt.
I just grab a pair of gray sweats hanging off the bedpost and yank them on before stepping into the hallway.
I head for the kitchen, expecting nothing but silence and maybe the dull hum of the fridge. But nothing, not a single damn thing in all my years of farm life, all the early mornings and late nights, could’ve prepared me for what’s sitting in my kitchen.
Piper.
Her dark hair spills down her chest in loose, inky waves, tousled in that just-rolled-out-of-bed way that makes a man’s fingers itch to touch. She’s curled up at my kitchen table, with one leg tucked up on the chair, and her knee bent in a way that makes her sleep shorts ride up her thigh.
The blue glow from the phone in her hand casts soft shadows over her face, highlighting the sharp angles of her cheekbones, the delicate slope of her nose, and the soft, full pout of her lips.
She hasn’t noticed me yet or looked up from whatever’s got her attention at this fuck-all hour.
Maybe I should turn around and forget I ever saw her, but I’m fucking frozen, drinking in the sight of her and the way her oversized T-shirt slips off one shoulder, revealing light, creamy skin that’s just sitting there, begging to be touched, tasted… bitten.
The floor creaks beneath my feet, betraying me like the traitor it is.
Piper’s head snaps up, her phone clutched tight, and fear briefly crosses her face before she realizes it’s only me.
And when that tension slips from her shoulders and her mouth curves into a slow, sleepy smile, it punches the air straight out of my lungs.
“What the hell are you doing up?” she asks, her voice still clouded with sleep.
“You do realize you’re sitting in my kitchen at ass o’clock in the morning, right?” I lean against the doorframe, arms crossed over my bare chest, doing my best to ignore the way my pulse thrums beneath my skin.
“Didn’t think I’d see anyone for at least another hour or two.”
“Can’t sleep?”
“Travis gets pissy about me reading at night. Says I keep him up with the light, so I’m stealing a little time before the sun decides to show its face.”
What kind of idiot complains about a damn light when he could have his hands all over this woman instead?
I move toward the light switch. “Mind if I…?”
“Sure. Your house, your rules.” The words roll off her tongue with a hint of sass that has me fighting a grin.
I flick on the lights but keep them dim, just enough to see, and holy hell, that was both the best and worst decision of my life.
She’s barefaced, flushed from sleep, and somehow looking softer than I’ve ever seen her. I catch the glint of black polish on her toes against the pale wood. It’s such a tiny, insignificant detail, but it does something to me.
“So what are you reading?” She chuckles at my question and flips her phone face down on the table. “What?” The laugh that escapes my throat is rough because damn if she isn’t the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.
“Trust me, this isn’t your speed.”
“Try me.”
Her leg drops, and she leans forward, stretching those delicate hands across the table as her gaze drags over my bare chest. When her eyes finally meet mine, the heat in them could torch this whole house down.
“Let’s just say it’s about a musician who can’t keep his hands off his bandmate’s twin sister.”
“That’s what gets you going? Boys in bands? Because I’ve got a brother who’s a singer, and we’ll have to keep you far away from him at family events if that’s your thing. ”
“Oh, please.” Her tongue darts out to wet her lips. “Everyone knows Colton Crawford isn’t just some boy with a guitar. That man’s in a league of his own.”
“Does my son know you’re crushing on his uncle?” I turn to the coffee maker, desperate for something to do with my hands that doesn’t involve wanting to reach out and touch her.
“Your son wouldn’t give a shit if I was on my knees for the entire Crawford family so long as I do what I’m told and play the perfect girlfriend in front of his mom.
” I turn to face her, and she freezes, horror flooding those beautiful eyes as her hand flies to her mouth. “God, I shouldn’t have— I’m sorry.”
“Listen, Piper, whatever’s going on with you and Travis, I’m not picking sides just because he shares my DNA. I’m on the side of doing right by people. That’s it. That’s all that matters.”
Her hand drops from those perfect lips, and she moves to stand right beside me at the machine.
Her body heat slams into me, and when she leans over to put her mug in the sink, that sweet strawberry scent wraps around me like a noose.
It clings to the back of my throat and settles on my tongue, and all I can think about is how she’d taste first thing in the morning.
I keep my eyes straight ahead. I have to because if I look at her right now, if I so much as glance, I’ll stop pretending to be a good man, and I’ll do exactly what I’ve been fantasizing about since the moment she walked into my world.
Like how easy it would be to lift her onto this counter, drop to my knees, and eat her pussy until we both see heaven—or hell.
Probably hell because I’m pretty sure I’ve got a one-way ticket down there at this point.
“Regardless of your stance, I shouldn’t have disrespected him in front of you. I’m sorry for that.” I force myself to face her because I’m a goddamn masochist, and fuck me, we’re close.
“Don’t ever apologize for your own feelings.” She nods, and the electricity between us is nuclear. “You look like you’re about to bolt from this kitchen, but I’d be happy for you to stay and keep reading. I’ll leave you be.”
“You don’t have to leave. You’re pretty quiet, so you won’t disturb me.” She smiles as she says it, sliding back into her chair like this is our normal.
I make her a fresh coffee and set it down in front of her before dropping into the chair opposite.
I’m forcing myself to watch the clock.
Watch my thoughts.
Watch anything but her.
But it’s fucking useless because no matter how hard I try to keep my head on straight, my gaze keeps finding its way back to her.
She’s sitting across from me, lips slightly parted, hair falling across her face in a way that makes me want to reach across the table and tuck it back behind her ear, just to touch her.
She clears her throat and shifts in her seat. It’s subtle, but I see it—the press of her thighs, the restless way she moves, like something is burning her up from the inside out.
She’s turned on.
Right here in front of me, and she doesn’t even realize how obvious it is.
My hands clench against my thighs, fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks, because I know I shouldn’t go there. I shouldn’t even think about what I’m about to say or where it might lead us. But I’m already drowning in thoughts of her. Might as well pull us both under.
“Read to me, darlin’,” I murmur, and her eyes snap to mine, blinking several times like she’s not sure she heard me right.
“What?”
“You heard me.” I lean back, spreading my legs under the table. “Read to me. Nice and slow.”
“I’m not reading to you.” She tries to laugh it off, but it dies in her throat when she catches the heat in my eyes. “You’re serious?”
“Dead serious,” I say, flexing my hand at my side, already knowing I’m going to regret this when it doesn’t end the way I want it to. “Whatever’s got you wound tight… I want to hear it. I want to feel it in your voice.”
She sits there quietly for a long moment, and I watch her turning it over in her mind. I can practically see the battle happening behind her eyes. One part of her is screaming to run, to stay the hell away from whatever I’m dragging out. The other part can’t help but lean in anyway.
She glances down at the phone resting in her lap, then back up at me, then down again. And before I can hate myself for pushing too far, her voice breaks through the stillness of the kitchen.
“‘I have no idea how long I’ve been asleep, but I wake to the sensation of hands roaming across the bare skin of my stomach and soft kisses trailing around my navel. “Nate,” I whisper his name, recognizing him the moment I feel his touch.’” She suddenly stops, and when I look at her, I see the crack in her usual confidence.
“Keep going,” I encourage, needing more, needing everything.
“‘I’m sorry I’m waking you up, baby, but I need to be inside you.’”
My cock hardens as I imagine slipping my hand into those little sleep shorts, knowing I’d find her wet and wanting and teasing her while she continues to read to me.
“‘You want my fingers or my tongue, baby? Or should I just fuck you senseless until you come around my cock?’”Her breathing’s gone ragged, pulse fluttering in her neck, and she lays her phone flat on the table again, looking at me like she wants to either kill me or climb me.
I drag in a deep breath as her arousal fills the space between us, flooding my senses until it’s the only thing I can think about. My cock’s harder than steel, and we’re locked in place, staring at each other like two animals in heat, drowning in a want we can’t act on.
“I can’t…” She runs shaky fingers through her hair, pushing back from the table with a sudden urgency, standing fast like she needs to get the hell out of here. “I can’t read more… I need…”
I’m moving before I even realize it, closing the distance between us. I reach out, tucking her hair behind her ear, and my knuckles brush against her flushed cheek. It takes everything in me not to fist that soft hair and pull her in until her mouth is on mine.
One more second of her looking at me like that, and I’m done pretending I’m anything but hers.
“I know exactly what you need, and I’d kill to be the one to give it to you. I’d give you everything, darlin’, every piece of me, but we both know why I can’t,” I whisper, my jaw tight with the effort of holding back. “And as much as I don’t want to walk away from this… I have to.”
Dragging every ounce of willpower I have, I force myself to step back and move past her, knowing that I just crossed a line I should’ve known better than to touch.