13. Laramie
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
laramie
I wake to the warm press of a naked body against my back and the firm grip of a large hand on my boob. War. Grinning in the still-dark room, I disentangle myself from his arms and pad into the bathroom.
Clicking the door closed behind me, I take care of business, then stop and check myself out. My hair is a sex-swept mess, and pink mouth-shaped bruises mark the column of my neck. Darker smudges—fingerprints—decorate my hips. I look well-fucked and well-loved.
Pink warms my cheeks as I think about what went on between us. I’m not usually one to give up control in the bedroom, but ceding to War was freeing. Being in the moment, focusing on every ounce of pleasure he wrested from my body. It’s something I’ll do over and over with him. For him.
While his bossy side was incredibly sexy, what drove it was even more so. Beneath the physical was the need for me to affirm that this thing between us is real—that I want him for more than a night. And, god, I do.
Shame spasms in my stomach. I royally fucked up when I left him at The Rusty Spur. Good thing the universe granted me a second chance to show him how sorry I am.
“Laramie?” There’s a thread of unease in War’s voice as it sounds outside the closed door. Can’t have that. Swinging it open, I jump into his arms, catching him off-guard. He lets out an oomph and attempts to keep us upright but fails, and we crash to the bed, flopping like a pair of decked fish.
Through a series of twists, rolls, and giggles, we end up with me sitting astride him, my legs splayed on either side of his hips.
With a quick swoop, I plant a kiss on his lips. “Morning.”
He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear then brushes his knuckles up and down my cheek. “You stayed.”
“I promised I would.” A raw ache pinches in my chest. I hate that those are his first words to me this morning, but it’s another reminder of how much I hurt him. I cradle the hand still resting against my cheek, bringing it to my lips and kissing the center of his palm.
War’s cock kicks to life beneath me, his body’s physical response to my touch. When I grind my bare pussy down on his lap, his eyes flutter, and he lets out a needy moan. “Last night was—shit, I’m not sure I have the vocabulary to describe it.”
“I think the word you’re looking for is fan-fucking-tastic.” At his rough laugh, I grin and toss my hair. “You did a decent job being in charge, Pretty Boy, but I can’t wait for it to be my turn to show you how it’s done.”
He smirks and bucks his hips, the hard line of his cock rocking against me. “I think the four orgasms I wrecked you with were more than decent.”
“Three and a half; the last one was a residual effect from the toy. ”
“You’re going to put me in an early grave with all this bickering.”
I snort and glide my pussy up and down his length, loving the way it jerks against me as if it has a mind of its own. “You love it.”
War’s hands grip me so I can’t wiggle. All the playfulness melts from his features. His lips press into a firm line, and his honey gaze sears me. “I do.”
It’s only two words, but their weight knocks the air from my lungs. Before I can think, let alone respond, he pulls me flush to his chest and captures my lips. His tongue takes advantage of my shock to swirl with mine, and he palms my ass. I’m pressed against him and let the power of his touch roll over me.
When he moans, I snap back to my senses, giving as good as I get, sucking on his tongue, tracing inside his lips. I’m practically pulsating for him, ready to demand he fuck me when he eases up, switching to chaste pecks at the corners of my mouth and along my jaw.
“You have no idea what you do to me.” Our mouths are so close that each word is a puff against my lips. We stay that way, each of us breathing the other’s air, heady waves of something far more substantial than like crashing over me.
War nuzzles his nose against mine. “Come to Trail Creek with me.”
I swear my eyebrows jump to my hairline, and I sit up, scouring his face for any hint he’s teasing. A thousand reasonable reasons to say no run through my head. It’s too soon. The guys I dated in the past couldn’t handle my independence. I travel over half the year.
But then I think of last night. How right it feels to be with War. “Are you serious?”
“Laramie, I just got you back. I want to be where you are, or I want you where I am. And since you won’t be staying here…” He glances at me as if worried his reminder of my failed ride will derail the conversation.
“Go on,” I whisper.
“I don’t know how long you have until Pueblo, but I looked, and it’s about three and a half hours from Trail Creek.”
It’s not that I don’t want to go. I do. Every fiber of my being wants more time with him. A chance to see where he’s living now, find out more about what happened after I left Dallas, explore his skin with my tongue. And my twin devils are cheering me on, hollering for me to sprint head first down this hill that leads to War. But… “Is there somewhere I could board X?” Not even my shoulder demons—or desire for this man—can override the sense of responsibility I have for my girl.
“I’m not sure…” He frowns, deep in thought. “I can ask Tuesday. Between her friends, they know everyone in town. If there’s a place that boards large animals, one of them will know.”
“And you want me to meet her? Your sister?” I hold my breath, waiting for his reply.
“Yes.” His quick answer culls my doubts. “You’ll like her, and she’ll love you, especially when she hears you put me in my place once or twice.” He swallows. “Tuesday and I… I told you we weren’t close for a long time, that I made so many mistakes. Wasn’t who she needed.”
My hands glide over his chest, seeking to calm the anguish in his words.
“We started talking more after the showdown with Mr. Phillips , but picking up and going to New Mexico changed everything. For the first time in my life, she and I were together without the toxic influence and expectations of our parents.” He chuckles and scrubs his hand over his beard. “Granted, I wasn’t in the best place, but she took me in like I was dumb for asking. She built this whole family and life.” There’s a thread of wistfulness in his words. “And invited me to be a part of it even though I didn’t deserve it.”
Before I can assure him he deserves all that and more, my phone goes off. Reaching over him, I snag it off the small end table. Instead of sitting back up or getting off his lap, I stretch out, treating him like my personal man pillow.
Daddio
Mornin’ Mimi. I’ve got to get back. Want me to take X, your truck, and the trailer? Think you can make it here by 9:00 to get some clothes?
I read his text twice, wondering if the fog of the amazing sex I had last night, the high of War asking me to meet his sister, and the disappointment of not placing have short-circuited my brain.
“What’s wrong?” War asks.
“My dad…”
He sits up, taking me with him, cradling me in his lap. “Is he hurt?”
I shake my head. “No. Nothing like that. He’s offering to take X home.”
A brilliant smile breaks out over War’s face. “Well, that solves the boarding problem, doesn’t it?”
“I guess so, but how would he… Why would he…” My words falter, trying to figure out what’s driving my dad to offer this. “I haul X. Dad can’t make it to all my rodeos; some are multi-day drives. Even when it’s somewhat close, like this one, he rents a car and follows me up. It’s weird.”
“Weird, but fortuitous.” He hugs me. “There’s no reason for you not to come to Trail Creek now. Unless you don’t want to.” There’s a myriad of emotions in his voice, from happy to anxious. He forces the next words out. “Which is okay. I’d understand.”
Maybe it’s all chance; maybe it’s fate. Either way, I don’t care. This is the gift of time, and I want time with War Phillips. To know him, to learn life with him, to love him. And right now, that means going to Trail Creek and meeting his family.
I smooth the frown from between his eyebrows with my thumb then kiss him in the same spot. “Come on, let’s go get my clothes.” The way his face lights up is something I’ll cling to for the rest of my days.
As he goes to move, I fixate on the flex of his pecs from under the dusting of chest hair. His stomach is softer than when we first met, but I like it—a lot. Biting my bottom lip, I give him a heated glance. “My dad is leaving in just under an hour. We’re fourteen minutes from the arena.”
War raises an eyebrow, waiting for me to go on.
“How many times do you think you can make me come in thirty-seven minutes?”
In a flash, I’m staring up at War’s handsome face, his weight pressing me into the mattress. “Let’s find out.”
Turns out the answer is four. I think taunting him about it only being three and a half last night made him more determined. War and my toys work very well together. When he busted out the magic wand, I was done for. It’s taken a shared shower—where I was little more than a posable figure—and twelve of the fourteen minutes of the drive for me to recover.
War smacks of masculine superiority, having brought me to begging at one point during our morning romp. If I wasn’t so blissed out, I might be annoyed. As it stands, I’m just satisfied and swoony.
When we near the rodeo grounds, I direct him toward a different entrance so he can go into the trailer hold.
“It’s bizarre that so many people travel and live this way.” He says it absently, almost to himself.
“It’s not for the weak of heart.”
His brown eyes meet mine, chagrin coloring his features. “I didn’t mean to be rude.”
“You may have relaxed some.” I wave my hand at his hair, beard, and clothes. “But deep in your heart, you’re a Dallas city boy. This must seem like a whole other planet to you. No posh dining or luxury high-rise apartments or sprawling McMansions.” I scoot as close as my seat allows and walk my fingers up his thigh. “Plus, I remember how shocked you were when I took you to Stir-ups and The Rusty Spur.”
A rosy hue creeps over his cheeks. “I was a snob, and you proved all my doubts wrong.”
An unhappy humming sound claws its way from my throat. “You left the clothes behind.”
The car jerks to a stop, and I find my seatbelt unbuckled and myself hauled into his lap. It’s a tight fit, and my ass presses into the steering wheel.
“I did.” He brings our foreheads together. “I couldn’t take them. It was too raw that morning. I couldn’t walk out of there with a physical reminder.”
Another suffocating swell of guilt smashes into me. Pretty words rest on the tip of my tongue, eager to slip free of their confines and soothe him. But for what’s likely only the third time in my life, I think before I speak. I search my heart for any hint of a lie, and, when I find nothing, I embrace the warm glow lighting me from the inside. Losing last night led me to be here with him this morning, and while I’m not looking to hang up my Stetson anytime soon, the future I picture looks vastly different than I imagined it even forty-eight hours ago. With complete and total sincerity, I grip his hair, anchoring myself to him.
“We’re going to find a way to put that night behind us. I don’t mean forget it. It will always be a part of our story, but I will prove it to you, however you need. Show you how much I regret leaving you. I’m in, War. All in. There’s nowhere else I want to be.”
His grasp on me tightens, and he buries his face in the crook of my neck. The warmth of his breath mixes with the heat of his lips as they ghost along my throat. “Laramie, I?—”
A rap on the driver’s side window pulls us apart, and I groan when I meet my father’s amused stare. Shooing him away from the door, I pop it open and tumble out.
“Looks like you two were having a moment.”
I roll my eyes and hip-check him. “We were until someone interrupted us.”
Dad hugs me tight. “You two look good together.”
Craning my head back, I ask, “Why did you offer to drive the truck?”
He shrugs. “Thought you might want to take advantage of having a few bonus days off, and no offense to the Boss, but she can be a little high maintenance.” I grin. He’s not wrong. I love Xpresso, but she’s a diva. Dad steps back and jerks his head toward the trailer. “Pack up what you think you might need.”
“I’ll go get her majesty from her stall.”
“I already paid one of the local hands to get her ready.” My mouth drops, and I’m about to argue that he shouldn’t have done that when he gives me his remember that time you stole my truck look. “You listen to me, Laramie Louise Larson.”
I glance at War to see if he heard Dad middle-name me, and from the smile he’s struggling to contain, the obvious answer is yes.
“You take these next four days and get to know War. Enjoy the time in New Mexico. I’ve got X, and I’ll make sure she’s in Pueblo in plenty of time for the Cimmaron Classic.”
I’m about to say my goodbyes when it hits me. “Hold up!” I look between Dad and War. “How did you know I’m going to New Mexico?”
Two muscular arms wrap around me. “I told him.”
“When? How?”
War smiles and whispers so only I can hear him. “Remember after orgasm three when you squirted all over me and demanded I go get a towel?” At my slight nod, he goes on. “I also fired off a text to your dad. You were so out of it you didn’t even notice me using your face to unlock your phone.”
I’m torn between impressed and irked. But when War’s lips brush my nape, impressed wins. I give Dad one last hug and a wave before climbing into the trailer and packing for my next adventure.
The drive to Trail Creek is enlightening. War is a fan of sports talk radio from one specific Dallas station, which he plays through an app on his phone. He’s also a gas station snob, which isn’t surprising. I do talk him into stopping at an Allsup’s and splitting a fried burrito once during the six-hour car ride. He declines my offer to drive but agrees to play twenty questions, the license plate game, and one very disturbing game of Would You Rather.
It’s early evening when we arrive in Trail Creek. The small town is adorable, like something from a movie set. I’ve been to my fair share of small towns, and they come in all shakes and shapes. But this place is a real gem.
I giggle as I read the business names, noting all the places I want him to take me while I’m here. As if reading my mind, War says, “The Bee and The Bean has a delicious pecan coffee blend, and their pastries are amazing.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Tuesday’s future sister-in-law, Clairy, owns it. She took over for her aunt not too long ago.”
“I spotted the bookstore.”
War snorts. “Oh yeah, we’ll have to make a stop, or Saul will hunt us down.”
“Who’s Saul?”
“He’s like the self-proclaimed Trail Creek czar.” At my arched brow, he smiles. “He’s a nice guy, just intense. Very interested in who’s coming and going. And apparently, he keeps all the town’s activities alive.”
Twisting so I can see him better, I pepper him with questions. “Tell me more. What else does this little town have going on? Any other big-wigs I should be aware of?”
“There’s this eclectic vegetarian food truck. The menu rotates almost weekly based on whatever the owner wants to make. A kick-ass staple restaurant, Ava’s—you have to try her stuffed sopapillas. And there’s no way Tuesday will let you leave before you’ve had a Flocked Up Flamingo at her friend Dane’s bar.”
“I’m afraid to ask.”
His chuckle is quickly becoming one of my favorite sounds. “They’re better kept a surprise.”
“Does your sister know we’re here?”
“Yeah, she’s been texting me, demanding location updates for the past thirty minutes. I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a welcome committee waiting at the house I’m renting.”
Sure enough, when we pull up to a small A-frame cabin, three cars idle in the driveway. War shoots me a reassuring smile before narrowing his eyes at my door. “Wait there. I’m coming around to open it.”
I roll my eyes but do as he says. A small part of me might be a touch worried about meeting War’s people. The idea of walking up to them with his hand laced in mine helps ease the nerves.
By the time we get to the covered front porch, a group of six waits. They’re clearly friends, all chatting together. There’s a tall, striking woman with loose waves and a full sleeve of tattoos laughing next to a handsome man with a frown on his face. A giant man with shoulder-length blond hair and a matching beard towers over them both. His paw of a hand rests on the hip of a woman an inch or two shorter than me, with curves for days. And closest to us stands a grinning couple. The man has on a baseball cap, his dark brown curls peeking out from beneath the brim. He has the most piercing blue eyes I’ve ever seen. Standing with her back to his chest is a woman, again slightly shorter than me, with hair that reminds me of a sunset. She’s beautiful, and despite this being my first time seeing her, I know exactly who she is. The eyes. They are a gorgeous, warm honey brown, just like her brother’s.