31. Lyla
Lyla
Beck took me to dinner at the only nice restaurant in town, an Italian place with white table cloths and candles on the tables, and water in a glass with a stem. He was the perfect gentleman, pulling my chair out for me and holding my hand across the table.
It was everything I would have wanted out of a date, not that long ago.
But being back in Sage Valley has changed me, it’s reminded me of my roots, all the parts of myself I had shut away and locked up because I was ashamed of them, afraid to be judged, talked about.
Afraid to let loose. So relief and excitement wash over me in a dizzying wave as we walk hand in hand up to the local bar.
It’s similar to Lucky’s, I’m sure every town in rural Alberta has a bar like this. It’s in an old, wooden building on the corner of the main strip, and the thumping country music and occasional whoops and hollers beckons people in as they walk by.
This one, though, offers something unique to Beck and I that Lucky’s can’t–the chance to be anonymous, to be outward about our affection for each other without spurring on town gossip.
Butterflies flutter around in my gut as Beck opens the door, his large hand coming to the small of my back as he steers me inside.
It’s as crowded as Lucky’s would be after the town rodeo, but the dance floor is cleared for line dancing. More cheers ring out as the next song comes on, and people flood the space.
It’s a song I recognize from the radio, a newer country artist that’s been making headlines. Billie Something. The beat and the melody make it next to impossible not to dance along, so I slide my hand into Beck’s and tug him out onto the floor.
We fall into step next to each other, the steps coming back to me as if it were second nature. I follow Beck’s rhythm, heel, toe, heel toe. I scuff my boot on the floor, make a lasso motion with my hand and switch directions with the rest of the crowd.
I look up at Beck dancing next to me, and he’s already gazing back, smiling at me through the beams of coloured light and my heart is bursting with joy. This night couldn’t get any better.
The upbeat melody shifts into a slower ballad, and Beck reaches for my hand, pulling me in close. We sway to the music, my head tucked below his chin. I rest my cheek on his pec and close my eyes as I listen to lyrics, the artist crooning about taking her time, being okay with a slow burn.
I can’t help but think that’s what’s happened between Beck and me. A slow burn. That’s what he said, the night of the flood. You light me on fire, and I burn for you. I’ve burned for you since the day I met you.
Beck dips his head closer to mine and wraps his large palm around my lower back again. The solid, firm contact sends sparks zipping through my core, and I’m suddenly being pulled in two opposite directions–wishing that Beck and I could be alone, and never wanting this to end.
I want to bask in his steady, unwavering love for me, and I want to give it right back.
We dance through each song until the bar empties out. Even then, we don’t stop until we’re the last ones left on the dance floor, only a handful of stragglers sitting at the bar top as our audience. We don’t stop until the lights go up, the universal sign for bar’s closed.
Beck doesn’t make a move to leave. We stand across from each other, our skin shiny and sticky, breathing heavy. I’m the first to step closer, to close the space between us. I hold eye contact, his dark eyes sending heat through my core, leaving me molten.
I reach up to the brown suede hat that has sat firmly on his head the whole night, and when I go to lift it, he doesn’t stop me. His mouth quirks into a knowing smile as I take it and place it on my head, claiming him as mine.
“Let’s get out of here,” he murmurs into the shell of my ear, his breath warming me and sending a shiver across my skin.
“I think they’re going to throw us out,” I say with a laugh.
Beck turns me toward the door, his hand landing on the curve of my ass as we leave.
The cool air is refreshing on my flushed skin as we step out into the night. Beck’s truck is the only one left in the parking lot. Neither of us even drank anything, not since the glass of wine at dinner. Although I feel drunk, I know it’s not from alcohol.
It’s from the feeling of Beck’s hands skating over the curves of my body as we danced, the magnetic pull of him as I pressed myself against him. And now, the weight of his ravenous gaze has me dizzy and lightheaded.
We climb into the truck, but Beck’s hands quickly find me again, his palm resting on the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, sliding slightly up under my dress.
His thumb brushes my leg, stroking back and forth, and heat pools in my core.
The air between us is thick and heady as he navigates the empty country roads back to our bed and breakfast.
The road is dark, lit only by the silver light of the moon, and we both keep our gazes fixed on the expanse of asphalt ahead of us. But Beck’s hand slides higher up my thigh, his pinky brushing the silk gusset of my thong.
“Fuck this,” he mutters, palming the steering wheel and turning the truck off the road, gravel crunching beneath the tires as we roll off the pavement. His hand leaves my leg as he throws the truck in park, but is back on me, quickly tugging me closer to him across the console.
He cups the side of my face, his fingers tunnelling through my hair.
I let out a groan as his mouth finds mine, our kissing less tender and more desperate.
There’s a charge in the air tonight, a silent understanding that out here where no one knows us, the boundary we tried so hard to maintain has all but disappeared.
A line in the sand, blown away by the wind.
We’re unbound, untethered, and free to explore each other the way we’ve been craving.
Beck lets out a low growl into my mouth. “Come here.”
He urges me closer. I kick my boots off and climb over the centre console, eager to be near him. The horn beeps as my ass presses against the steering wheel and we both let out a laugh. Beck slides his seat back, making more room for us as I bring my legs to either side of him.
My hands wander over his chest while he finds the hem off my dress and pulls it up, over my head. In the moonlight, his face is shadowed, but I can still feel his dark eyes tracing every square inch of my bare skin.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he groans. He trails his fingertips lightly up my torso, over each rib, sending goosebumps scattering across my chest and down my arms.
I grind down into him, feeling his hard length press into me through his jeans.
“I want you inside me, Beck,” I say with a breathy moan.
“Soon, Trouble,” he says, before he yanks on my bra, pulling the cups down so my breasts tumble out. “I’m going to take my time with these perfect tits.”
He dips his face to suck a nipple into his mouth. The other one he rolls between his fingers, pinching lightly and causing a delicious amount of pain.
“Beck,” I whimper, as my hips buck forward, my sex throbbing with need. I have never needed someone the way I need Beck. I understand his reasons for waiting, but I’m losing my patience. He pulls back to look at me, eyes drifting down to the shadow that’s formed on my panties.
“You’re so wet for me already.”
I find his belt buckle and undo it nimbly. Sitting back on his lap, I undo the button of his jeans, and he helps me by pushing them down.
“What happened to taking your time with my perfect tits?” I ask, a teasing smile playing on my lips.
Beck’s cock is already fully erect, his length resting on his stomach as he reaches down and pulls the handle to recline the seat. I shift around to get my thong off, but Beck grips my wrists, pulling me back down toward him before I have the chance.
“Fuck taking our time, Trouble. I’ve waited too long for this already.”
He pulls out a condom packet, from where I’m not sure, ripping it open and rolling it down his shaft. He lifts my hips and positions me over him, forcefully tugging my thong to the side.
I grip his length as I guide him inside me, taking a sharp inhale of breath as I adjust to his size. He’s stretching me, filling me, and I want more. I want to feel Beck everywhere.
My hips rock back and I ease off him before pushing back down. He hisses as I settle onto him fully and find my rhythm, pumping him as his fingers grip my hips and dig into the soft flesh of my ass.
He brings his hand to the crease of my hip, wrapping his thumb around between us so he can stroke my clit while I ride him. The sudden rush of sensation makes my walls clench. My thighs shake as I struggle to keep going, being pushed closer and closer to my edge.
“That’s it, take my cock like a good girl and ride me. Don’t hold back.”
Beck’s praise is like warm honey, and those words are my undoing.
Don’t hold back.
This man, this immovable force of a man is letting me unleash.
When Beck looks at me, he really sees me. All the ways I rein myself in. But tonight, I let all my walls shatter and crumble as my orgasm rips through me.
I cry out, not containing the volume of Beck’s name as I come.
“That’s my girl,” Beck murmurs into the top of my head, as I let my body relax into him, my walls still fluttering in the aftermath of the intense pleasure.
I place feather light kisses on his chest, his neck, his stubbled jaw. I roll my hips, this time in a smooth and languid motion, revelling in the feeling where our bodies connect.
Finding that rhythm again, I focus all my attention on him and the way he’s responding to my body. I give him everything I just took, and he tips his head back, eyelids fluttering with the pleasure I’m offering.
I ride him steady until he’s the one moaning my name.
“Fuck, Lyla. I’m gonna–” He cuts himself off with a groan as his release consumes him, as he gives in to it.
Now, I let myself fully relax into him, curled on his chest as our breathing settles. He presses his mouth into the top of my head and takes a deep, sated inhale.
“I want to stay like this forever,” I whisper into the dark. I want to stay in this town, with this man, and pretend that the rest of the world doesn’t exist.
It’s just him and me, and we can spend every night dancing until I think I’ll burst from loving him so much.
“Me too, Trouble,” Beck says, his voice rumbling through me. “Me too.”
I wake to the sound of the shower running in the bathroom off our suite. Beck wanted to be up and on the road back to Sage Valley early this morning, since Austin and Nash have been managing at the ranch on their own and Wade has some appointments coming up this week.
But today is all rise and no shine after our night out last night.
Worth it, though. Every second of last night makes up for the sleep deprived state I’m currently in.
The night was a blur of mouths colliding, hands teasing. God, I wish I’d known earlier how good Beck is in bed. He can make my back arch and my eyes roll with every touch. He can make me breathe his name like a prayer and scream it a second later.
I’m pulled from my thoughts about Beck by the sound of a phone ringing, and I roll over to pick mine up off the night stand. There’s a missed notification from my e-mail. It’s from Shirley.
She’s sent over the paperwork, the official job offer in writing. I stare at the number under the heading called “compensation.” I still haven’t been able to wrap my mind around it, how life changing that amount of money would be.
But then, there’s Beck.
It’s too much to process, and I won’t be able to make any kind of clear headed decision in the blissful haze lingering since last night.
There’s another ping, and I realize the notification wasn’t coming from my phone earlier, but Beck’s.
Reaching over to the other nightstand, I pick it up. Austin is probably wondering when he’ll be back today, and likely has a list of chores he couldn’t get to over the weekend. But it’s not Austin’s name I see on the screen. It’s someone else I don’t recognize. Dave.
I go to put the phone down before this gets weird but I can’t help noticing the preview of the messages.
DAVE
3.49 list price, but I bet we could get well over 3.5
Now that you’ve made improvements to the ranch, we could potentially find a buyer to take over the business too and list it for more.
I blink a few times to be sure I’m not imagining it. My stomach twists and then drops as I realize that this is real. That Beck wants to… sell the ranch. After all this work to save his family legacy he’s willing to let it all go?
A wave of nausea and pain surges through me. He was going to sell it without telling me. Just like Austin kept me in the dark as he listed and sold our family’s property. He brought me a check for my half the estate as if that would make it any better.
You moved away, I didn’t think you’d care.
The memory of Austin’s words lances through me.
Of course I cared. He was entrusted to take care of the property.
It was the only thing we had left of Mom and Dad, so the devastation when it sold…
I didn’t think I could ever return to Sage Valley without crying, without either completely breaking down, or saying something to my brother that would completely and irreparably sever our relationship.
But here I am. I faced it, and I even started to think that Sage Valley had welcomed me back, and that I had a place here, a home again at Wild Sage with Beck.
Another question pops into my mind that I do whatever I can to ignore, because it isn’t possible. It can’t be possible or else I’ll be well and truly heart broken. Did Beck keep it all from me on purpose? Was he afraid if he told me about the realtor that I’d flip out?
Tears burn my eyes but I blink them back. Questions swirl around in my mind and stir up a cloud of emotion threatening to turn into a full blown storm. Anger and hurt tangle within me, but as the doorknob to the bathroom turns and Beck emerges, I tamp them down.
Against every instinct, I shove my emotions to the very depths of me.
Don’t over react. Don’t blow up.
I’ll give myself time so I can have a level-headed conversation with Beck. This is what I’ve been working on, right?
“Just about ready?” Beck asks, his face completely void of any indication that he knows what I just saw, and completely absent of any signs he was planning this.
I steel myself and plaster on a smile. “Yep.”