Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Beau
Idon’t find Bailey until that afternoon, and I’m not gonna lie—knowing she’s been shown around the ranch by Austin sticks in my craw. For right now, she’s mine, and if anyone should be teaching her the ropes, how things work out here, it’s me.
I hate the thought that she’s seen it all through his eyes.
No, that’s not it. I hate that he got to see her see it, enjoying the way her lips curve in an appreciative smile, fielding the intelligent, insightful questions she undoubtedly had, because Bailey’s nothing if not curious.
I hate that it was him and not me, and that should be a big fat warning sign, because I have never, in my whole life, felt jealous of my brother.
Not of any of them. Not even Cole, who was clearly Dad’s favourite, the prodigal son.
We’ve all got our roles in life; that’s his, this is mine. I keep in my lane, no drama.
But I’m cranky as all get-out by the time I finally track them down to the stables, where Austin’s watching Bailey feed a carrot to a horse.
She jumps back as Gaston, Cassidy’s horse, sniffs at her open palm, then laughs, tilting her face to Austin’s.
I stay where I am, in the shadow cast by the afternoon sun, just watching.
Watching the way her whole body relaxes when she laughs, the way her ponytail swings as she turns back to the horse, the way her jeans look so fucking great on her my palms itch to feel her, cup her ass, just like I did last night when she rode me underneath the moonlight.
I breathe out, forcing myself to focus on last night alone. To remember that as far as these Donovan men go, Bailey’s not interested in anyone but me. Reminding myself that tomorrow we’ll be back on the road, driving down to Phoenix. Her and me.
And then? a voice inside my mind prompts, reminding me, even when I don’t really want to think about it, that after the weekend’s events, Bailey will be moving on, back to her real life.
Just like we agreed.
And thank god for that, anyways. If she stuck around even one week longer, I think those few little warning signs would turn into a whole sea of them, and everything I’ve always banked on to keep myself safe could go up in smoke.
‘Hey, bro.’ Despite the fact I’m loitering back by the door like some kind of stalker, Austin’s clocked me.
His boots crunch over the dirt as he walks my way, a slight limp in one leg from the injury he doesn’t like to talk about.
‘Just showing Bailey here how to train a dragon.’ He grins, standing beside me, thumbs hitched in his belt loops.
Bailey glances our way, cheeks flushing a little when she sees me.
‘I’m definitely not a natural at this.’
‘You could be,’ I say, surprising myself, and probably her. ‘If you wanted to be.’
The relaxed pose of her stance is gone; in its place are straight lines and tension.
The carrot disappears into Gaston’s mouth and Bailey wipes her hands on that perfect round ass, then starts to walk toward us.
‘So?’ I ask, when she’s close. ‘You know just about all there is about me, or what?’
Her smile is slow to spread, and even though Austin is right beside me, it feels as though we’re in our own little world, just her and me, like down by the creek. ‘Just about, cowboy.’
‘And? What’s the verdict?’
She wiggles her brows and my lips twitch into a smile, but deep down they ache to kiss her instead. ‘You’ll have to buy the paper to find out.’
‘Brutal,’ I tease, and if Austin wasn’t there, I’d have reached out and dragged her against me, held her tight to my chest, felt her soft, sweet frame, that moment she gave up fighting this thing and surrendered herself to me completely.
Suddenly I can’t fucking wait to get her back to the Silver Spur, to be up in that room, just the two of us.
‘I came to see if you needed a lift back to the hotel.’
‘Almost.’ Something shifts across her features.
‘I wanted to see some of the ranch with you, have you talk me through your favourite places.’ Her voice is so professional, it’s almost impossible to think she’s making up a reason to be alone, to walk around the property with me, rather than one of my brothers.
Almost. But I can see the way that tiny pulse point at the base of her throat is fluttering, and her hands tremble slightly when she tucks her hair behind one ear.
‘Sure.’ My own voice is gruff, my breath caught in my throat.
‘And there’s one more interview I want to do, but that shouldn’t take long. I was hoping to try the pozole.’
‘At the Spur?’ Austin chimes in, reminding us both he’s there.
Bailey’s gaze slips sideways. She nods.
‘Best you’ll ever taste. Why don’t I head to the house and see if the others are keen to join us?
’ he offers, and it’s like the banging of a door, right on my fingers.
I want to tell him to fuck right off with ‘the others’.
I had visions of eating in Bailey’s room again, buck naked if I have my way, and definitely just the two of us.
But Bailey’s voice is saccharine-sweet when she says, ‘That sounds really nice. My treat—to thank you all for being so hospitable.’
‘Oh, Bailey, that’s not necessary. Welcoming people is just the Donovan way,’ Austin says, lifting his hat off his head an inch before replacing it and skirting around us, toward the open barn door. ‘See y’all in about an hour?’
‘Sounds good.’ Bailey smiles innocently at Austin until he’s gone, and then smirks at me. ‘Is that a problem, cowboy?’ She knows full well it is. Because if the expression on my face matches how I’m feeling, I must be pretty damn easy to read right now.
‘No.’
‘Liar,’ she intones softly, moving her sweet, soft body close to mine, so my legs shift of their own accord to either side of hers, and my hands cup her face, holding her steady.
‘You tryin’ to make me beg, Bailey James?’
‘Is it working?’
I breathe her in, all that honey and vanilla sweetness, that delicious, tempting mix of her, and close my eyes.
‘Fuck, yeah, it’s working. I need you more than I’ve ever needed a damned thing,’ I admit, throwing any hint of caution to the wind and cupping her ass, just like I’ve been longing to do.
Her breath escapes on an audible rush, and then she’s scrambling up me, as I half-lift her, wrapping her legs around my waist.
‘Someone could see us,’ she groans, as I hold her against my rock-hard self and run my lips over the delicate skin of her throat. ‘Oh, god, Beau, someone could see.’ But her words are a surrender to the inevitable, just like my actions.
I drag my mouth to hers, kissing her, as I move us down the stables to the end, where there are several stalls that haven’t been used for years.
‘This isn’t the Ritz either,’ I say, as I slam the door shut and slide the bolt across, then go back to kissing her.
‘Don’t care,’ she groans when she can, driving herself down on me, like she can’t bear the clothes that separate us. ‘Fuck me, Beau, fuck me here, please.’
I ignore the voice that’s telling me she’s the most perfect woman I’ve ever known, and start cursing the clothes we’re wearing instead.
Way too many clothes. I set her down only out of practicality, my hands working quickly to rip her shirt over her head, my mouth returning to hers almost immediately, kissing her hard, until she’s whimpering aloud.
I push her back against the wall, my hands working between us to get her out of these goddamn perfect jeans and then, while she tries to do the same to me, I’m brushing my fingers over her sex, fast and demanding, as my mouth taunts hers then drops to her throat and finally to one of her breasts, sucking on her nipple until she screams my name.
I will never get tired of hearing that.
‘Beau, I’m coming,’ she cries, and I pull my hand away, only so I can drop to my knees and torment her with my mouth instead, my tongue moving over her, sucking on her most sensitive place, while her hands drag through my hair, wild and fast. ‘Beau,’ she whispers, and my hands curve around her ass, holding her right against me as I taste her climax and revel in her perfection.
Afterward I don’t give her long to recover; I can’t. I’m falling apart here.
I drag a condom out of my jeans as I step out of them, pulling her down onto the ground, wincing a little because it’s so not what she deserves, but Bailey doesn’t care.
Her only response is to reach for me hungrily, eyes drugged and heavy.
I’ve barely kicked off my boots and jeans and I’m thrusting into her on a guttural cry that fills the barn, my mouth craving her other nipple now, my tongue running over it at first then my whole mouth taking her in, sucking until we’re both crying out, her hands driving down my back, our bodies frantic and heated, charged by an electrical current we have no hope of controlling.
‘This … is … heaven …’ she cries, as I tip over the edge.
I move my mouth to hers, kissing her, swallowing her praise, swallowing everything she’ll give me, as I bury myself deep and her muscles tighten around me on her passionate, desperate release.
A second later, I’m following, my mouth against the curve of her neck as I explode, losing myself completely to her, and not giving a shit about that. Not now. How can I?
Look, obviously I love my family, but at this point in time, I feel like I could pretty much strangle them all. Each and every one of them. Except maybe Beth.