Chapter 31
NOAH
I am entirely fucking consumed by her, and within a minute, I’m buried deep inside of her.
The world outside this cramped, dusty alcove of hay has ceased to exist, as I groan into her shoulder.
There are no US Marshals hunting me. There is no stolen New Mexico SUV left abandoned at a travel plaza.
There is only the frantic, ragged sound of Rue’s breathing, the scratch of this fucking hay against my knees, and the absolute, scorching heat of her body clamped tightly around mine.
She arches up into me, her nails biting into the bruised skin of my shoulders. I swallow her soft, breathless whimper with a brutal kiss, my hips driving forward.
“Just like that, Noah,” she murmurs into my ear, her hips grinding back against me. “Please, I’m so fucking close.”
Fuck, I love it when she whines like that.
It’s enough to put me on a razor’s edge, completely reckless, chasing my release. I angle my hips, pulling back just enough to feel her internal muscles flex and chase me, before driving deep again.
Rue gasps against my mouth. Her internal walls spasm around me, tight and desperate as she starts to tip over the edge of her own climax.
“Shit, shit, shit.” I groan, the sound vibrating deep in my chest, ready to let go and follow her into the blinding high.
I explode inside of her—just as the booming, aggressive bark of a massive dog echoes off the corrugated steel of the barn, vibrating straight through the floorboards and up into the rafters.
My blood runs cold.
Every muscle in my body locks into absolute, paralyzing rigidity, even as my dick finishes pulsing. My heart, which had been hammering with lust, seizes with a violent spike of pure adrenaline.
“Quiet down, Buster. It’s just me,” a gruff voice echoes from the other side of the thin metal wall.
Fuck. It’s Bill.
Beneath me, Rue’s eyes blow wide in the dark, the haze of pleasure instantly evaporating into sheer, unadulterated terror. She inhales sharply, a gasp that could easily turn into a cry.
I don’t hesitate. I drop my weight, pinning her flush against the scratchy hay, and clamp my good hand firmly over her mouth.
Shh, I mouth, staring down into her terrified green eyes.
She gives a tiny, frantic nod against my palm.
But I can’t move. I am still completely buried inside her. If I try to withdraw now, the rustle of the dry hay beneath us or the shift of my jeans will echo in the cavernous silence of the barn.
Below us, the heavy metal door shrieks on its tracks, sliding open with a deafening metallic groan. The heavy thud of work boots hits the dirt floor, accompanied by the clicking nails of the massive farm dog.
I hold my breath. My left arm, supporting half my weight, screams in white-hot agony as the fresh stitches stretch dangerously taut. I grit my teeth so hard my jaw pops, forcing myself to remain as still as a corpse.
Beside my feet, Bullet lifts his head from where he’s nestled.
Rue stiffens at the movement.
No. Please God, no. I shoot a glare at the beagle. If the old dog barks at Buster, we are dead. I have no weapon. I have one good arm. I’m literally caught with my pants down.
Bullet lets out a faint, airy huff through his nose, but miraculously, he rests his chin back on his paws, unimpressed by the commotion.
“Yeah, I’m looking at it right now,” Bill’s voice booms through the barn, echoing up to the rafters. He’s on his phone because there’s no second voice. “I don’t know why the battery would be dead. I put it on the trickle charger before we left for the lake.”
The heavy footsteps move closer, stopping right in front of the massive John Deere tractor parked directly beneath our hayloft.
“Well, Jimmy said they didn’t find anybody at the truck stop,” Bill continues, his voice conversational but carrying perfectly in the quiet shed. “Found the SUV dumped by the pumps. Said it was stolen out of somewhere at the state line. Some guy carjacked a fella in the bathroom or something.”
Beneath me, Rue’s pulse thrums frantically against my palm.
Her body is trembling beneath me, our cum oozing out of her body and onto my balls.
Being perfectly still while buried deep inside the wet heat of her core is its own form of psychological torture.
Every involuntary flutter of her muscles sends a spike of arousal straight to my brain, fighting a brutal war with my survival instincts.
I press my forehead against hers in the dark, closing my eyes, willing my body to stay perfectly rigid.
“I’m gonna grab the jumper cables from the wall, and then I’ll just go ahead and head that way, so we can set up camp early,” Bill says into the phone.
A metallic clatter rings out below as Bill rummages through a toolbox or a shelf.
Buster lets out a low, curious whine, his nails clicking on the dirt as he paces. The dog is sniffing the air.
My stomach plummets. He smells us. Or he smells Bullet.
“Come on, Buster. Leave the mice alone,” Bill calls out. “Let’s go.”
The dog hesitates, letting out one sharp woof toward the back of the barn.
I squeeze my eyes shut, my heart hammering so loud I’m certain the farmer can hear it. Walk away. Just walk the fuck away.
“Buster! Heel!” Bill commands, his tone brooking no argument. “I ain’t got time for this! We gotta get over to the campsite and get set up.”
The clicking nails retreat toward the front of the barn. The heavy metal door groans again, slamming shut with a resounding boom that shakes the dust from the rafters.
The silence that follows is thick and heavy, punctuated only by the distant roar of Bill’s diesel truck starting up in the driveway.
He’s leaving. Holy shit. He’s leaving.
Still, I don’t move for a full sixty seconds. I wait until the sound of the truck’s engine fades away, ensuring he isn’t pulling it into the barn right now.
When I’m finally sure we are alone, I slowly pull my hand away from Rue’s mouth.
She lets out a ragged, trembling exhale, her eyes squeezing shut as a single tear slips down her temple, cutting through the dirt on her skin.
“Holy fuck,” I breathe out, the adrenaline crashing through my system like a tidal wave.
My left arm gives out. I collapse to the side, rolling off of her and out of her body, landing hard on my back against the rough twine of the hay bales.
I stare up at the corrugated tin roof, my chest heaving as I try to pull oxygen back into my burning lungs.
I jerk my pants upward and rebutton them.
“He was right there,” Rue whispers, as she tugs her jeans back on. “He knows a lot about the stolen car.”
“Maybe, but he doesn't know we’re in his barn,” I counter, though my voice lacks its usual steady edge. I reach down, zipping up my jeans with trembling, clumsy fingers.
The reality of how close we just came to getting caught—or shot by a Texas farmer protecting his property—settles over me like a suffocating blanket.
“We can't stay here,” Rue says, sitting up and pulling her knees to her chest. She looks tiny in the shadows, fragile and entirely consumed by the nightmare I dragged her into. “If he comes back to jump the tractor...”
“Yeah, but he’s gone right now, and this is our chance to take a look around. If we can get into his place, we can maybe get some direction...”
Rue stares at me, her chest rising and falling rapidly. The lingering haze of our intimacy is completely gone, replaced by the stark, terrifying reality of the hunt. “What if there’s someone else there? At his house?”
“Then I guess we’ll deal with it then. You stay in here, and I’ll go check it out.” I reach across the small gap between us, gripping the back of her neck with my good hand and pulling her forward until I can plant a kiss on her forehead.
And then I slip out of the barn.