Chapter 32
J.T
I’m overwhelmed.
But it’s not a bad thing.
Thing is, it doesn’t happen very often. Not to me.
I’ve spent most of my life being the man who walks into a room and takes control of it. Business deals, construction sites, negotiations with men who think they can out muscle or out talk me—none of that rattles me.
But right now?
Right now I’m carrying Kelly through my front door, and my chest feels like it’s packed with dynamite.
Because ten minutes ago I was staring down the man who hurt her.
The man who stole from her. Lied to her. Humiliated her.
The man who abandoned her and Evan like they were disposable.
And before I could even finish processing the rage crawling up my spine, she grabbed my head and kissed me in the middle of that damn Lunchroom.
Not shy.
Not hesitant.
She kissed me like she was choosing me.
Like she was claiming me in front of every man who ever wondered if they had a shot with her.
Fuck.
Hell.
I never felt so many damn warring emotions, and frankly, I don’t know what to do with them.
Part of me still wants to hunt Mike Stevens down.
I want to drag him out of whatever hole he crawled back into and remind him exactly why he should stay the hell away from Woodhaven. Make it real clear that the life he tried to wreck belongs to someone else now.
But another part of me—one I usually keep locked up tight—is roaring louder.
It’s primal. Possessive. Downright fucking barbaric.
It’s the kind of instinct that doesn’t care about logic or manners or timing.
It wants one thing.
Kelly.
It wants her in my arms, in my bed, under me. Wants to erase every shadow that bastard left on her. Wants to make damn sure she knows exactly who stands between her and the world now.
So when she whispers, “Take me home,” I do.
I don’t remember the drive.
I remember her hand on my arm.
Her breath coming in a little shaky beside me.
The silence between us buzzing with something thick and electric.
By the time we pull into the driveway, my pulse is hammering like I’ve been in a fight, and my dick is so hard I bet these pants are going to be permanently tented.
The mountain air is crisp when I open her door, sunlight pouring across the deck and the tall pines that ring the house.
None of it registers.
Because the only thing I see is her.
I scoop her up without asking.
Her laugh bursts out, light, and surprised, as I toss her over my shoulder.
“J.T.!” she squeals.
My hand grips the back of her thighs to steady her.
“Almost there, Honey,” I mutter.
I carry her through the house, boots thudding across the hardwood floor, past the wide windows that look out over the mountain valley.
The place is quiet.
Just us.
I push into the bedroom and finally set her down on her feet.
For a second, we just stand there.
Breathing.
Looking at each other.
Sizing one another up.
Her hair is a little wild, cheeks flushed from the ride and the adrenaline of everything that just happened.
Those cerulean eyes of hers are wide and bright and locked on mine.
Want is riding me hard. Need is there, too. And love—fuck, I haven’t told her that part yet.
Words aren’t really my thing, but I know I need to.
Later, though. Much later.
Her eyes roam over me, landing on the indecent bulge in my pants, and a tiny sound catches in her throat.
That does it.
Something inside me snaps tight.
“Clothes,” I say.
My voice comes out low. Rough.
“Off.”
She swallows, then nods.
Her hands go to her jeans, fumbling a little with the zipper.
I’m already moving.
Shirt off.
Boots kicked aside.
Belt sliding free.
Every second she’s still dressed feels like torture.
She’s struggling with the button when I step closer again.
“No time,” I growl.
Her head lifts just as I hook my fingers into the waistband of her jeans and pull. I bust the button, tearing the zipper, then I drag them down her curvy legs in one hard pull.
The denim snags on her shoe and tears a little.
But I don’t give a damn.
I’d burn both our wardrobes to the ground if it meant getting closer to her right now.
Her shirt follows.
Then the rest.
Fabric hits the floor piece by piece until there’s nothing left between us but skin and heat and the raw tension humming in the air.
The moment she’s bare enough, I grab her and haul her against me.
My mouth crashes down on hers.
And God—I needed that.
I needed her taste. Needed the way she melts into me like she’s been waiting for this just as badly as I have.
My hands slide up her back, holding her tight against my chest while I kiss her deeper, harder, like I’m trying to breathe her in.
Like she’s the only thing that’s going to calm the storm tearing through my chest.
Because the truth is, the anger about Mike?
The protective rage? The possessive instinct clawing up my spine?
It’s all tangled together with something even stronger.
Something that scares the hell out of me.
I pull back just enough to rest my forehead against hers, both of us breathing hard.
My hand cups the back of her neck, thumb brushing her cheek.
“Christ, Honey,” I murmur roughly.
“I know,” she whimpers, and I lift her in my arms.
Her legs wrap around me and I almost stumble at the feel of her hot pussy against my stomach.
“I swear,” I murmur, “Kelly, the way you kissed me back there…”
I trail off, shake my head once, half laughing, half stunned.
“Do you have any idea what that did to me?”
She nods, and from the hungry look in her eyes, I think she really does know.
“Same thing you do to me every time you touch me, J.T.,” she says and lowers her head to suck on my neck.
Jesus. Christ.
“Please, J.T., I need you. Now. Right now.”
“You got me, Honey,” I tell her and turn, dropping her on the bed.
The move is inelegant but I try to be gentle. She grins and bounces—and fuck, I’m mesmerized.
She is so fucking hot. A MILF—is that what my idiot son called her? Yeah, well, he might be a little shit, but he is right about that.
Kelly is a knockout.
I should start slow. Worship her proper. But there’s no time.
I crowd her on the bed, spread her legs wide, and then I grab my cock and rub it along her dripping slit, coating myself in her slick.
“Fuck, you get this wet kissing me, Honey?”
She moans and nods, cupping her tits and pulling on the hard nipples.
I can’t wait anymore. I sheath myself inside her with one hard thrust, and the sound that leaves my throat?
It’s pure animal.
“J.T.!”
I start to move, burying my face in the soft part of her neck where it meets her shoulder. And her hands reach around my back, holding me tight while I pull my hips back, sliding out to the tip, then shoving back inside her tight little hole.
It’s so good, and I can’t stop.
“Fuck,” I groan and rut into her, moving us farther up the bed with every thrust and withdrawal.
Her fingers dig into me, and I love it. I love the feel of her losing control. Knowing Kelly is giving herself to the pleasure and heat we’re building together is the best kind of high.
She’s so wet. The sounds we’re making are loud and lewd—fucking perfect. I can’t slow down and there is no way in hell I’m stopping. The slapping sounds we make as we come together are a fucking symphony.
Every soft inch of her is pressed against me—and it’s not close enough.
She tastes so damn good. Honey and woman and some kind of nutty sweetness from something she ate earlier.
And the sounds she makes? They’re desperate, pleading, and so fucking hot. When she says my name, I swear to God it makes my dick harder.
I thrust my hips harder, rubbing my pubis against her clit and holding her close as I can get her. I keep my thrusts shallow, deep, and she is close. She is right there.
I wrap my hand around her throat and look into her eyes, then I tell her everything I should have told her from day one.
“I love you, Kelly. Do you hear me? I love you. You’re mine and I am never letting you go.”
And as soon as the words leave my mouth, her pussy starts to squeeze, and my Honey? She comes so fucking hard she pulls me along right with her. My balls tighten and pull up as they empty inside her hot little body.
And nothing has ever felt as perfect as this. As her.
My sweet Honey.
My Sawmill Jill.
Kelly.
Mine.