Chapter Eleven
Morgan
"Here." I stop in front of Hudson's desk, placing a dollar bill on the corner of it.
He glances up from his computer screen, looks at the dollar, and then frowns at me. "What's this for?"
"I stole an apple from the barn to eat when I was sleeping in Jon's stall," I murmur. "I promised Flint and Walker that I'd pay it back. This is me, paying it back."
Hudson's brows furrow. "It was an apple, Calamity."
"I know," I whisper. "But I don't want to be like Roger Burkett, stealing and hurting people. And I don't want to be like my dad, either. Maybe it was only an apple, but I still stole it. Making it right matters."
Hudon picks up the dollar bill, folds it in half, and then tucks it into his pocket with a nod, his expression soft. "You're a strange woman, Morgan Lott."
"Thank you."
He grins at me, then notices the rest of the cash in my hand. "What's that for?"
Is it just me, or does he seem leery?
"I need a favor."
He sighs heavily.
"Can you put this in an envelope and send it to Blaze?"
"For what?" Hudson growls, his eyes narrowed at me.
"For rent."
"You want to pay Blaze rent."
"Yes, except he doesn't want me to pay him rent, so I thought maybe if you sent it to him, he'd think he just got a bonus or something.
" It's the only way I can think of to get him to take my money.
Every time I try to bring it up, he just tells me that it's not happening. He won't even discuss it with me!
Hudson throws his head back, laughing so loud, I think maybe he's lost his mind. But then he holds his hand out for the money. "Hell, yeah. I'll send it to him," he says with a grin. "I'll do that right now."
"Thank you," I say gratefully. Hudson is a great boss. I like him way better than Roger. He actually treats me like a person, even when he is grumpy sometimes.
"No problem, sweetheart. Why don't you head on home? I'll get this to your man, and I'm sure he won't be far behind you."
"Okay." I shrug, pretty sure I'm done here for the day anyway.
But there's plenty I can do at home, like figure out how to cook, or actually make the bed for once, or try to figure out what Blaze bought in town the other day.
He keeps moving it from place to place, like he doesn't want me to see whatever it is. It's driving me crazy!
Every time I think I've figured out his hiding spot, he changes it. I don't think he even wants to hide whatever it is at this point. I think he's just moving it to make me lose my mind.
I grab my tote bag from beside my desk and then head out, tipping my face up to the sun. Bishop and Wade are in the pasture, mending a fence. I wave as I walk by.
They both wave back.
Walker and Tanner stop arguing near the barn to say hi as I pass by them, and then go right back to their argument. I just smile, laughing to myself. God, I love it here.
This is home in a way that nowhere ever has been before. I never imagined sleeping in the stall would end up like this—with me feeling like I never want to leave. But that is how I feel.
Blaze was right. This is where I belong.
It's home.
I've checked every cabinet in the kitchen and am feeling under the couch when the front door bangs open behind me. I feel Blaze long before I see him. He's the sun, vast and bright.
"Hi," I chirp, yanking my hand out from under the couch. "I wasn't doing anything."
"Uh-huh," he growls, stomping toward me. "Stay right there."
"What? Why?"
"Because your ass is already in the air, so that'll save me the trouble of bending you over to spank the hell out of it."
"You are not spanking me," I gasp, sitting upright, even though my clit twitches at the thought of his hand on my ass. I like when he spanks me way more than I'm willing to admit.
"The hell I'm not," he snaps. And then he drops an envelope on the coffee table beside my head. I recognize Hudon's messy scrawl across the front, and I know I'm busted.
Dammit.
"What's that?" I ask, lying like the wind anyway.
"That," he growls, ripping his shirt off over his head, "is precisely what I'd like to know, Calamity."
"Never seen it before."
"Uh-huh." He pops the button on his jeans, and my gaze immediately falls to his hand. "And I'm guessing you didn't ask Hudson to deliver it to me, either, did you?"
"Who me? Never." I lick my lips, squeezing my thighs together, when he shoves his hand into his pants. Why am I so wet? We're supposed to be arguing.
He closes the distance in two seconds, hauls me up by the waist, and manhandles me over the side of the couch. My cheek presses to the leather, my ass in the air.
His hands clamp hard enough on my hips to make me yelp, but the sound fizzles out as he yanks my jeans straight down my legs, panties and all.
"We should talk about this!" I cry.
"No," he growls, his rough palm gliding up the back of my thigh.
"What happened to democracy?" I gasp, giggling and trying to kick him at the same time. "I get a voice, too!"
"Democracy doesn't live in this house," he snarls. "In this house, you do what I fucking say, Calamity." His palm lands against my ass like a gunshot.
My whole body jerks, the sting and heat ricocheting to my clit. "Blaze!" I shriek, half-laughing, half-dying because I want him so much I could explode.
"You think you can just send me rent through my boss like I'm your damn landlord?" His voice is pure gravel, and he punctuates every word with a sharp, delicious smack, alternating cheeks. "I'm not your landlord. I'm your man. And you are not paying me a goddamn dime."
"I—" I try to twist around, but his body pins me in place as he smacks my ass again. I'm so wet I can feel it cooling on my thighs. And so desperate, I could scream.
"You hear me, Calamity?" He dips two fingers between my legs, slipping them right into me. "You don't owe me anything. Not rent. Not this perfect, gorgeous, beautiful fucking body. Not a single goddamn thing."
I sob, trying to push back against him, but I can't. I'm trapped, captive to the sweet torture as he fucks me with his fingers until my knees buckle, and I bite the cushion to keep from screaming.
He makes me come twice, wringing pleasure from me like it's a holy mission, leaving me shaking and soaked and so in love with him it's a problem.
Then he flips me so I'm slung over his shoulder, dangling like a wet noodle. I'm so wrung out, I can't even protest. I just dangle, trying to breathe as he stalks down the hall to our bedroom and pins me to the bed.
His jeans are around his knees, his cock bobbing at his navel. All the moisture leaves my mouth at once. He's so beautiful, so damn beautiful.
He settles between my legs, grinding against my clit until I'm arching off the bed, trying to drag him into me.
"You want to pay me?" he snarls. "You want to trade favors with me?"
"N-no," I pant. Tears of need leak down my cheeks. "Just, please. Please—"
"You're not my tenant," he says, pushing in so slow I feel every inch, every pulse, every shudder. "You're my wife."
It takes a moment for the words to make sense, and then they strangle me. "Your what?" I gasp, clawing at his arms.
He holds my gaze as he sinks in to the hilt, and then says it again, softer this time. "You're my wife, Calamity. My whole goddamn world. Is that clear enough for you?"
I'm too busy sobbing with pleasure to say another word. All I know is the heat of his body, the way he knows me inside and out, and the way he fills me so perfectly, like we were made for this.
He says my name like it's something holy as he fucks me, pounding into me until I can't breathe. Every time I think I'm done coming, he finds another way to wreck me.
All I can do is hold on and hope I don't black out because I don't want to miss this. I don't ever want to miss a single second of this man inside me, claiming every space in my heart like it was always meant to belong to him.
By the time he finally plants himself deep, roaring my name, we're both ruined. I think we're both something new, too. Something we built together, right here in this bed with our own two hands.
He drapes himself over me, burying his face in the crook of my neck, and whispers my name over and over.
For the longest time, we stay just like that, lost in each other.
Eventually, though, he shifts us around, pulling me onto his lap. His hand shakes as he drags his jeans up high enough to fish around in his pocket.
All the breath leaves my lungs in a whoosh when he slides a ring onto my finger.
"This is what you've been driving yourself crazy looking for all week," he says, his voice uneven.
I stare at it, the diamond a blur of tears, my chest tight, my body shaking. "You really want to marry me?"
He tangles a hand in my hair, craning my head back. The way he kisses me… God, I hope he never stops kissing me just like that—like he needs my taste more than he needs oxygen. "I don't just want to marry you, Morgan Lott," he mutters. "I need to marry you."
It's the first time in my life that home feels like a person, not a place. And that person is Blaze.
I say yes again, and again, and again, sobbing it against his lips.
We're a mess. I'm a mess. But I want to keep being a mess just like this, every damn day.
The sun isn't even up when he nudges me awake in the morning, his lips against my bare shoulder. "Rise and shine, Calamity. We have somewhere to be."
"I said I'd marry you," I groan, covering my face with a pillow. "I didn't say I'd marry you at five in the morning, Blaze."
He just chuckles, nudging me again. "We aren't getting married right now. We're going to watch that prick get dragged out of his bed in cuffs."
That gets my attention.
I drag the pillow down, meeting his gaze in the lamplight. "He's getting arrested today?"
"Yeah. Dillon called last night. They're raiding his place in about an hour." Blaze brushes hair away from my face. "He said you can watch if you want."
"Really?"
"I might have badgered him into agreeing," he says, grinning at me. "Figured you might like to see it."
"I don't."
Blaze blinks at me.
"I just…" I shrug. "It was over for me when Dillon told me that I wasn't going to prison," I explain, my voice soft.
"I don't need to see him get dragged out in handcuffs.
I don't need to see him get hauled away to jail.
I don't ever need to see him again. I just need to be right here with you. That's where I belong, Blaze."
I could spend a lifetime reveling in petty revenge and justice served, but it'd be a life wasted because watching Roger Burkett go down for his crimes isn't what feeds my soul. It isn't what makes me happy, either. This wild, beautiful, incredible cowboy does that.
"You're what I need," I whisper. "Just you."
"Jesus," Blaze rasps, crawling over me until I'm pinned beneath him, his body crushing mine into the blankets. "Jesus, Calamity." He buries his face in my throat, breathing me in. "I'm never going to get used to loving you this much, you know that?"
"Good." I smile, running my fingers through his long hair. "Because I don't intend to settle down long enough for you to get used to it. I'm going to spend my whole life keeping you on your toes."
His body shudders on top of mine, his rough chuckle pelting my skin. "You damn well better, Calamity. You damn well better."