Chapter 18
Caleb
I never expected it to feel like this. Joelle’s weight in my lap, her knees hugging my hips, her breath ghosting my cheek; none of it feels unfamiliar.
But it’s the taste of her that wrecks me; warm and sweet, it’s a relief that hits the back of my throat and sends heat rolling down my spine.
And the way she sighs, like my mouth is soothing her hurt makes me tug her close.
My hands know exactly where to go. One at her hip, keeps her grounded, and the other splayed up her back, feels every tremble that runs through her.
She’s tense at first, holding herself tight, but the moment my mouth eases the pressure, she melts.
The comfort I feel from holding her close, it’s like nothing else I’ve ever experienced.
Joelle’s fingers thread through my damp hair, tightening and loosening in small, uneven patterns that tell me more than words ever could. She’s overwhelmed. She’s relieved. And somewhere in there, she’s feeling the build of pleasure.
The room warms around us, then the front door opens, and Wade’s voice saying my name hits like a crack of lightning. For a second, Joelle is rigid in my arms, panic flooding her body so fast I feel it before I see it.
I lift my mouth carefully, so she doesn’t jolt from discomfort. Milk trickles down her skin, her breath shaking, her eyes wide with the fear she’s done something unforgivable.
“Easy,” I murmur but she doesn’t seem to hear me. I keep one arm locked around her waist, rubbing small circles along her spine. “Hey. Look at me.”
Her gaze flicks up, wet and scared.
But Wade’s already moved, not away from us but toward. He drops into the chair beside us, tips up the brim of his hat with a lazy flick of his finger, and lets out a slow exhale like he’s been holding it for hours.
“Don’t stop on my account.” His voice is rough but calm—so perfectly Wade, I can’t help but smile.
Still, Joelle trembles in my lap, her whole body unsure.
I cup her cheek with one hand, guiding her attention gently back to me. “You okay?” I ask softly. “Tell me the truth.”
She swallows, her voice barely a whisper. “I just… I don’t want to mess anything up between you two.”
The laugh that escapes me is quick. “Darlin’, nothing about this is messin’ anything up.”
She glances at Wade, and he gives her one of his rare, solemn nods. A rancher’s version of emotional validation.
When she turns back toward me, her shoulders soften, then she leans in and kisses me.
It’s warm, tender, and a little shaky.
“Alright,” I murmur against her lips, brushing a stray curl behind her ear. “You want me to keep goin’?”
Her eyes flutter closed. “Please.”
So, I settle her back into my lap, helping her find her balance. She clings lightly to my shoulders, trusting me to hold her. I lower my head, take her gently into my mouth again, and her whimper of relief cracks me open.
Her whole body responds this time, letting me take the weight from her. Her hips shift closer, pressing into my erection with quiet desperation. Her fingers slide back into my hair, clutching instead of stroking.
Every pull from my mouth eases something in her, every sound she makes unwinds me.
Her milk slows to a trickle, and she finally sags fully into me, melted and pliant. I kiss the soft skin beneath her nipple before lifting my head.
Her eyes are half-lidded, her cheeks flushed, her mouth parted. She looks peaceful, comfortable, and safe. Exactly the way she should.
I glance over at Wade. He’s watching her, not me. Watching the way she rests in my arms and the softness that settles into her.
And in that moment, the three of us fall into a quiet that feels like the beginning.
Wade stands slowly, pushing off his knee, his boots thudding against the floorboards as he steps closer. Joelle stiffens for half a heartbeat, but then his fingers touch her cheek, one knuckle brushing her flushed skin, and she exhales, sinking into my arms again.
“You did good,” Wade murmurs. “Both of you.”
Wade’s hand slides to the back of her head, his thumb stroking her hairline with a gentleness that would shock most people who think they know him. He meets my eyes, seeking agreement for what happens next. I nod.
“Come on,” he says, his voice a rough whisper. “Let’s take her upstairs.”
Joelle’s head lifts from my chest, eyes wide, searching.
“Hey,” I say softly, tipping her chin so she’s looking only at me. “You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”
Wade nods, stepping closer until he’s a warm presence at her side. “We’re not askin’ for anything but to hold you,” he adds. “Make you feel good. And if you want more…”
A small, shaky sound slips from her throat, her fingers curling tighter in my shirt.
“I… want to,” she whispers.
And my pulse kicks hard.
Wade’s expression remains impassive, but his posture loosens as if the tension he’s carried, ever since our father got sick and he absorbed all the responsibility, finally leaves him.
I ease my hands under Joelle’s thighs and stand, lifting her effortlessly, and she clings to me, hooking her arms around my neck as her cheek brushes my jaw. Wade walks ahead of us, turning off the lamps, dimming the house and making it ready for the night.
When we reach the stairs, Joelle lifts her head, her eyes flicking between us.
“Are you sure this is okay?” she asks, voice faint. “I wouldn’t ever want to be the reason there was bad blood between you.”
Wade turns, stepping onto the stair below ours, eye level and close enough that she lets out a tiny gasp. He cups her cheek, thumb brushing the corner of her mouth.
“Pretty girl,” he says, “I promise we’ll never fight over you.”
I feel her breath catch against my collarbone, her relief stark.
We move slowly up the stairs, her warm and trusting in my arms, Wade’s steady footsteps right behind us. At the top landing, he touches my arm, guiding us toward the bedroom across from the one she’s been using.
His room.
Inside, the only light comes from the moon through open curtains. The bed looks impossibly big and impossibly inviting.
I lower Joelle, her knees brushing mine, her fingers still tangled in the collar of my shirt like she’s afraid of what will happen when she lets go.
Wade stands behind her, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders, thumbs stroking a slow, steady reassurance. She leans back into his touch with a breath that trembles.
“You sure?” I ask again. She deserves room to decide—and men who don’t take advantage of her in any way.
Not like that asshole who took her innocence at the fair, changing the trajectory of her life for good.
I hate that asshole, but if she never met him, she wouldn’t be here, between us.
Life’s funny like that. Every bad decision and heartbreaking moment can lead on to better things.
Her eyes lift to mine. “I want this,” she whispers. “I want… both of you.”
Wade’s breath leaves him in a quiet, rough exhale. I swear I feel my heart trip.
We move closer, one on each side, the air thick and warm around her. My fingers brush her cheek. Wade’s hands skim her shoulders. She reaches for us both, one hand gripping my wrist, the other sliding back to find Wade’s.
Then she lets out a soft sound of relief and desire, and the moment shifts.
Wade leans in first, brushing his lips over her temple.
I follow, kissing her jaw, slow and reverent.
Her breath stutters, her hands fisting in our shirts, and Wade murmurs against her skin, “Let us take care of you, Joelle.”
I kiss her, soft at first, then deeper when she opens for me, her fingers curling in the fabric at my chest. Wade’s lips trail down her neck, and she arches between us, her breath spilling out in a broken little sigh that’s nothing short of devastating.
Everything moves slower then, a moment suspended in new and tender feelings laced with heat.
Her hands reach for both of us, and the world narrows to the warmth of her body and the soft, hopeful sound she makes as we close in around her.