Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
WINNIE
Pitch
We don’t make it to the party back at Valiant Peak.
I shouldn’t be surprised at that, but somehow I still am.
Sally snores softly beneath the wolf blanket Lanie gifted her a while back when I tiptoe my way through the ranch house well after her bedtime while West harmonizes with her.
I’m more than tempted to let him stay there, but he won’t thank me for the bad back he’ll sport in the morning if I do.
I know from firsthand experience and many nights spent on that sofa. It’s no good for sleeping anytime after your twenty-fifth birthday.
“Up. Come on.” I slide a hand beneath West’s shoulder and lever him upright. He grunts at me as I maneuver him around, trying not to wake my daughter. “Come on,” I hiss when he barely moves. “I thought you were more alert than this, Mister Coyote Foreman.”
One hand grips me tight to him as he rises suddenly, nearly pulling me off my feet. “Rand, I’ve been awake since you thundered down the hall from your brother’s study. I’ll tuck you in before I head to the bunkhouse.”
“You… What?” My voice rises. I forget my promise not to wake Sally.
“Christ, Winnie.” West shuts me up with a quick kiss that steals my breath. “Come on,” he mutters, gripping my hand tight and pulling me along with him into the darkness.
I’m glad he knows where he’s going because, even after living here for several weeks after Cord’s last set of operations, I have no idea where we are going.
More than once I stand on the heels of his sock feet, and my apologies are to his broad back that’s little more than a solid outline before me on a cloudless night.
After a while I figure out our general destination. We’re in the hallway connecting the bedrooms that Sally and I use when we stay at Coyote. I count doorways and try to enter one.
West laughs dryly at me. “Not unless you want to sleep in the bathroom.”
I discover he’s right when my feet touch the tiled floor.
“Oh, damn.” I let him lead me to another door along the corridor.
“This one is yours.” He holds the door open with an arm braced over my head and catches my chin in his fingers with his other hand. “Good night, Rand.”
“I thought we were down to first names.” I stretch up and try to kiss him, but he pulls back.
I can’t see him in the darkness—there must be no moon at all tonight—but I’ll be damned if he’s staying anywhere but with me. “Don’t go. Please.”
West stills. “I don’t sleep in this house.”
I stomp on his socked foot. “Liar,” I hiss in a whisper. “You did that one night. I remember.”
Warm breath brushes by my lips, so close. I arch up, but he’s still not there despite being so close. I know he is. “That was one night, Winnie. Because we were all desperate for sleep. And because I didn’t want to leave you girls alone.”
My breath hitches at the loophole he just gave me. “Then don’t leave me alone. Or Sally. Not tonight. Please?” I’m so far below begging. On my knees. Whatever it takes.
Cord and I might be talking after five hours of fighting it out that was long overdue. Some of it was on West’s behalf, even though he’ll probably never find that out—oh, my God, I hope he never finds that out. Even so, I’ll do anything not to be alone tonight. And West is here. Right here.
“Please,” I whisper again, straining against his chest.
West holds me hostage like that, his breath brushing my skin, but doesn’t let me kiss him. His voice is low and sexy as all get out when he does finally break.
“One day, Winnie. I might then. But not tonight. You’re stronger without me here.” His kiss is soft, sweet, and damning.
And I cry. The sob that escapes me is muted by his deep kiss. He knows I’m crying. We both taste salt. And he still pulls away, brushes the tears from my eyes, and walks the dozens of yards along that pitch-black freaking corridor that he knows I won’t follow.
“West,” I whisper once, but he’s gone and I know he’s not coming back. “Shit.” I lean back against the doorframe, unwilling to turn on a light.
The darkness suits my mood, so I stay with it, straining to hear him leave the homestead.
That’s how big the damn place is, so huge I can’t hear the front door open from here.
And it won’t be locked. He can come and go all night if he pleases.
That’s just how Coyote works. None of the ranch hands ever disrespect Cord, and he sleeps here alone, except for Sally.
Snoring away under the wolf blanket back in the living area.
Suddenly I wish I’d stayed with her and consider making the journey back in the dark through the belly of the ranch house.
But it’s pitch black in the labyrinthine corridors, and I’ll just wake her stubbing my toe on something and howling like a banshee.
Sally’s settled and she knows the house better than I do for the amount of times that she’s stayed here. No, she’s fine without me.
It’s just me who’s a mess. Me who’s the problem.
I feel my way around the room to the bed and find my small bag at the end of the mattress.
Managing to put that on the floor, I pull out an oversized sleeping shirt and change into it, still in the dark.
Underwear bothers me so that goes too. I throw all my clothes into a corner of the room, not bothering to fold anything.
Everything else can wait until morning, when I can see better.
The bed dips under my knee as I lean over to pull the quilt back. Soft and comfy.
Typical Cord, providing the best in everything. A sense of both home and abandonment creeps through my chest, and the tears start again. I stay like that, one knee planted on the bed, standing on the other, my hair draping over my face as tears fall, unchecked.
My family is so fucked up. My brother doesn’t understand love and support. Is that my fault or my parents’? Should I have been there to teach him when they failed? Or did I do the right thing and walk away from it all, only to find a man to marry who screwed me up further any freaking way?
“I’m beyond broken,” I whisper to the darkness.
And the darkness answers.
“No more than me,” it says.
I try to spin about, but wide, heavy arms trap mine by my sides. Warm breath brushes my cheek as the arms fold around me, bands of unbreakable strength that I’m not sure if I want to sink into or escape from.
The scent of leather and soap and spice washes over me.
“West?” I whisper as his body presses to mine in full. He doesn’t answer me. But as always, I know him by the way we fit together, how our bodies respond to each other. “You weren’t staying. Why are you here?” I don’t want to push him away, but I do need to hear his answer. Understand his why.
His lips rub against my neck, and I let my head fall back onto his shoulder where he leans into me.
“I want to feel you wrapped around me tonight. Even if you shy away from me tomorrow and I have to convince you to stay all over again. If that’s the dance we do every morning, every day, forever, then that’s what we do.
What I do to convince you to stay. But to get you to stay, I have to be here first.”
I think it’s West’s longest speech ever. His arms tighten, and I soften, melting in his arms. “Yes, please,” I breathe, opening myself to whatever he needs. Whatever he wants. “Please stay. Please be here. I won’t run.”
His laugh is loud in my ear but quiet in the room. “Bullshit. But I’m here to catch you either way.”
I sigh as he hitches the hem of my nightshirt up, grazing his roughened palm over my bare skin beneath.
“You’re not going back to the bunkhouse?
” I’m not the only one who has a running-away problem.
Plus, I’m having a hard time thinking and putting it all together.
And maybe my head has a hard time accepting that I’m getting what I want without a fight.
“Christ, girl. Are you naked under this?” He tugs the shirt higher, running his hand below the material to palm my stomach, then higher. His thumb rubs below the swell of my breasts.
“Yeah,” I admit, breathless. “I was sick of having tight clothes on. And I wanted you to see me. As I am.” Even if it was just a fantasy version of you.
West tips my head back and kisses me hard. His tongue slides alongside mine, and he doesn’t pull back until I’m gasping, seeking air he refuses to give me. “I see you. Now pull this shirt off and go to the window.”
“I have a window?” Apparently I’m in a different room than usual. Coyote is huge and I’m still finding extra nooks and crannies years in. I pull the nightshirt off, leaving it in the middle of the bed so I can find it later.
West’s hands skim along my sides, over my curves and my ribs. “Fuck, you’re perfect,” he murmurs, still standing behind me. The hard press of him, the roughness of his denim jeans against my skin, sends ripples of need coursing through me.
“I’m not,” I murmur, wrapping my arms around myself.
He brushes my arms away. “I want to see you.”
“You can’t see anything,” I protest, belatedly remembering to whisper just as he draws me around the bed.
Guiding me. His touch gentles as he leads me to the other side of the room.
I’m blind on the moonless night, or maybe it’s overcast. I feel like I’m staring at a blank wall until cool glass presses to my front, my cheek as he leans me into what feels like a floor-to-ceiling window.
“Can you be quiet for me?” West mutters against the corner of my mouth. I nod as he tips my chin back and glides his tongue inside. My moan as he taps my legs apart is loud, and he growls a warning. “Quiet, or I leave, Winnie. Do that for me because I need to sink into your wet little pussy.”
I gasp as he pulls back, leaving my mouth seeking his and my pussy dripping. “I’m not wet,” I fib, pressing my thighs together even as he pushes my knees apart with his.
“Pretty liar, aren’t you?” His tongue traces across my throat as he bends me backward and toys with my nipples. A hand slides between my legs. “You are so damn soaked. That’s okay. I’m going to fuck you filthily, but only if you’re quiet and good for me tonight. Don’t you dare wake anyone up.”
The chances of anyone actually hearing us are low to none, but I nod, playing into his fantasy. He’s right there, fully clothed, with his fingers sliding in and out of me while I’m naked, pressed against cold glass. It’s a dark night and there’s no one out to see, though I still feel exposed.
“Don’t let me go,” I beg, shivering, more from his teasing than the cold but it’s there, the fear of being caught, a slow sense of panic building low in me. I press back into him even as he presses me forward.
“Open your legs, Winnie,” he orders, tilting my hips forward. “Show me how you come.”
I bite my lips as he unzips his jeans and presses his cock to the curve of my butt.
He’s warm and hard and everything I need.
West’s fingers work fast, thick and at the perfect angle.
I grip his wrist, squeezing when the overwhelm hits me, but he ignores my tell.
I rotate my hips. Rocking forward with the power of my orgasm. My mouth opens on a half-formed scream—
And his other hand presses over my mouth, trapping my pleasure inside me.
I come on a stifled cry that only West hears, my need dripping down my legs as he works me hard.
I roll my hips, driving down onto his hand as he pushes me forward until my body presses tight to the window.
My breath fogs the glass, warmth reflecting back at me.
I moan into his hand, taking comfort in his touch.
West pulls his fingers free and surges upward, filling me with his erect cock.
I scream again, his fingers filling my mouth.
I’ve barely recovered from my last orgasm and I’m already primed for the next.
He plunges into me, relentless, over and over.
The glass offers no handholds as I scrabble at its smooth surface.
The contrast of his warmth and its coolness drives my nerves wild, as though my body can’t keep up with the changes.
He never lets me go and he never backs off, pressing me against the surface the entire time he fucks me.
My nipples ache with the cold, and my feet numb soon after.
I rock back onto his cock, needing all of him inside me.
“Greedy thing,” he berates me. “How much of me can you take?” He thrusts into me once, deeper, then again. And again and again.
And all the time I scream into the hand that covers my mouth, trusting him to mute my sounds, releasing control to him in full.
And when I come for him again, my thighs shake.
I lean forward, pressing my hips out. West muffles his shouts into my shoulder, using my hips to pull me backward and thrust deeper.
I groan against the fingers I suck, letting him use me as I cling to him, savoring the feel of him so full inside me.
I quiver, pressing my legs together tight until he moans, his cock thickening as I clench my walls over the heaviness of him. The impossibility of it.
West ruts against me, never stopping as he hardens inside me. “Christ, beautiful. I’ll come again—”
I ache with the stretch of him, his roughness, but I love it too. Bliss ripples over me. My silent scream fogs the glass as I bear down on him, my gush of heat trickling over my inner thighs. It’s debaucherous and perfect and everything I need as West increases his speed.
Then it’s not my shout we need to worry about as West roars my name.
His body envelops mine, arms lashed tight about me, and I know he’ll never let me fall.
We stay that way, pressed to the warmed glass, our bodies intertwined.
I suck and lick the fingers that never leave my mouth, thanking him for the pleasure that he gave me.
His mouth fuses to mine, and we stay that way, kissing languidly, not parting even when he picks me up, or when he slides me into the bed, pulling the quilt and the covers over us.
Not even when he tucks me into his chest, my back pressing to his stomach, and lets me sleep that way. And just before I pass out with his arms around me, I let my head tip to one side.
“I do love you, you know that?”
West smiles at me, his outline barely visible. “Yeah. I know that.”
The fracture in my heart fills in, completed by the drifter who finally came home. His mouth comes down on mine in a tender kiss that says everything even when he says nothing.
“Me too.”