Chapter Twenty-Nine
What am I doing?
This is the worst idea ever. But I can’t seem to make myself turn back. The truth is, I want this. I want him. I have since I was a lovesick teenager.
I like to think that I’m a strong woman. Fierce even. But Waylon fucking Ludlow is my kryptonite.
My body hums with anticipation as he races toward Ironhorse.
Running Stop signs and ignoring speed limits.
We take a sharp right onto a road that I’m familiar with.
It’s the one that leads to Caison’s cabin.
We continue past it for about half a mile, and another cabin comes into view.
This one is slightly larger with a wraparound porch.
Waylon pulls in front of it and cuts the engine.
We sit here in loaded silence for several minutes.
“Tell me to take you home, and I will,” he says. His eyes looking straight ahead. “Last chance.”
I consider it—for half a second. Then I reach down and tug my panties loose from my ankles. I toss them into his lap, scoot to the passenger door, and grab the handle.
That’s all it takes. Before I can get the door open, he’s out of the truck and lifting me into his arms. My hat falls from my head and lands on top of my phone on the bench seat.
He takes the steps up to the porch two at a time. Holding me firmly with one arm as he fumbles with a key until the door creaks open.
He walks us inside, kicking the door shut behind him.
He sets me on my feet and clicks on a light as the door closes with an echoing thud, wood against wood.
The first thing that hits me is the smell—clean pine, layered with coffee that was brewed hours ago.
Wool and leather and the faint sweetness from a candle that sits on the counter.
It smells like a place that’s been lived in.
Cool air brushes my face as we step inside.
To the right is the kitchen. A massive island anchors the space, its green-veined granite catching the light, glossy rivers of jade and charcoal. Stainless steel glints beneath sleek pendant lights—modern, clean lines set against tobacco-stained wood.
To the left, the living room stretches wide and welcoming. A stone fireplace dominates the far wall, rough and textured, its hearth holding a stack of split logs. Even without flames, you can smell it—the faint, smoky aroma of burning oak.
The knotted pine walls and ceiling wrap the space in honey-colored warmth, every knot and grain visible. Above, sturdy beams crisscross the high ceiling, heavy and dark. Adding rustic charm.
My boots meet dark wooden floors, smooth but solid, softened by a thick cream rug covering the space in front of the chocolate-colored leather furniture arranged around the fireplace—deep, worn-in sofas and two comfy recliners. Soft blankets are draped over the arms and backs.
And everywhere, the subtle proof of a child’s presence.
A small doll slumped against a throw pillow.
A stuffed pony forgotten on the hearth.
Picture books sprawled across the coffee table.
The place feels like a home—warm, safe, lived in.
Waylon reaches for me, and his arm hooks my back and pulls me against his chest. Then he walks me backward until I’m pinned against the kitchen island.
His mouth finds mine, and he kisses me hungrily as his hands slide down to cup my ass before hiking me up until my bare thighs hit cool, smooth granite.
We’re all tongues and hands as we devour each other.
I fist his shirt and tug it loose from his jeans.
The fabric brushing against my sensitive skin.
He breaks the kiss as I fumble with the buttons of his flannel.
Once it’s open, he shrugs it off, and it falls to the floor.
My eyes take in the beauty of his bare, chiseled chest. I lean back, plant my hands, and arch my back, lifting my legs so he can unzip my boots and slip my feet free.
He kisses my ankle before standing back up.
His dark midnight-blue eyes rake over me, and warmth floods my already-overheated body, pooling in my belly as he pulls the tie that’s holding the front of my dress closed, causing my breasts to spill out. He plants a kiss on each peak.
I start trembling with need as I wrap my legs around his hips. He grabs the hem of my dress, and I raise my arms so he can slide it over my head and toss it on the floor. He runs his knuckles over one of my bare breasts, and I clutch his shoulders, the tips of my fingers digging into his muscles.
“You are so fucking beautiful,” he says against my heated skin as his mouth runs down the column of my throat, sucking and nipping as he makes his way down.
The need that pulses through me is almost too much to take. It’s been so long since I’ve had a man touch me like this, and I have never wanted anyone the way I want him at this moment.
Never.
I grip him tighter as his tongue explores my breasts. An exquisite tingle shoots straight to my core when he sucks a nipple between his teeth, and my hips buck off the island.
“Easy, Stormy,” he murmurs around the taut peak.
He bites down gently, and I hum my approval as his hand slides between my legs. He glides two fingers through my center, coating them in my wetness, and then brings them up to swirl around my clit as he continues to kiss and lick at my breast.
“Waylon,” I gasp as he pumps his fingers inside of me.
He stands to watch my face as I rock against his palm.
“That’s it, baby. Ride my hand again,” he commands before claiming my mouth.
Our tongues tangle as his fingers move in and out of me at a furious pace. I can feel the pleasure pulsing at the base of my spine.
I’m so close, and he knows it. He breaks the kiss and drops to his knees. My hands go from his shoulders to his hair.
“Oh my God,” I gasp as his mouth wraps around my clit.
“Fuck, you taste like heaven,” he whispers against me. Then his eyes come up to meet mine. “I’ve never tasted anything close to this sweet.”
I growl as I tug his hair to bring his mouth back to where I want it. The last thing I want to think about in this moment is him tasting anyone else.
He gives me a few quick licks, then sucks the bundle of nerves between his teeth.
He repeats the sequence over and over. Bringing me to the brink of orgasm, then pulling back just enough to keep me on the edge.
“Waylon,” I groan. “Stop playing with me.”
He grins as he thrusts his tongue deep inside of me.
That’s all it takes. My legs begin to shake as the pleasure washes over me. Waylon holds me steady as he continues to lap at my core until the last tremble runs through me.
“Geezus,” I murmur as I loosen my grip on his hair, and he stands.
Then, before I have a chance to catch my breath, he’s lifting me and carrying me to the couch.
I fall back, sinking into the soft leather, and he can’t even get his belt undone before I sit up in front of him and reach for the button of his jeans.
“Stormy, baby,” he rasps as I slide his zipper down slowly.
He’s hard and ready as I reach in and release him from his boxer briefs.
I hold the base with one hand as I stroke him firmly with the other. Rubbing my thumb over his crown and through the drop of clear fluid that’s gathered there. His cock twitches in my grip, and his breath catches as he watches me.
His molten eyes meet mine as I bite down on my bottom lip, and I drink him in.
The broad width of his chest and shoulders, chiseled ab muscles, lean hips, powerful thighs, and the look of pure ecstasy on his face.
His fingers thread into my hair, and he wraps the long strands around his fist as I lick his tip, lapping up the salty taste of him.
“Mmm,” I moan, and the heat in his eyes intensifies.
I lick him again, then roll my tongue around the swollen bulb a few times before opening my mouth and taking him deep.
I keep my fingers wrapped firmly around him, and his fist holds my head in place as he thrusts his hips forward, sliding in as far as he can go. I choke and sputter as he hits the back of my throat.
“Fuck, you look so pretty with your lips wrapped around my cock, baby.”
I begin to suck him in earnest as he moves slowly in and out of my mouth.
His free hand caresses my jaw as he finds his rhythm. I grip the back of his thigh and hold on as I relax my jaw and take him in as deep as possible. He growls as I release his shaft and roll his balls in my palm, and the speed of his thrusts increases.
His fingers tug painfully at my hair as he gets close.
“Stormy, I’m going to come,” he warns, pulling back, but I hold his thigh tighter and continue to bob on his thickening cock. Savoring every inch.
His breaths quicken, and his back arches as his release hits my tongue, and I swallow every drop.
“Fuck, you’re incredible.”
His spent cock falls from my lips as his deep voice washes over me, and I look up to see his eyes trained on me. His expression is intense and raw, making my heart beat erratically.
His hand moves from my hair to cup the back of my neck, and he leans down to take my mouth. He kisses me slowly and sweetly as he sweeps me into his arms. I wrap mine around his neck and hold on as he walks us down the hallway.