56. Like a Ranger Mafia #2
“You didn’t hear all your options.” The playfulness in my tone is unmistakable.
Neither is her second growl.
“Ranger,” she huffs, her eyes narrowing.
“Yes, ma’am.” I lift her petite frame with one forearm and flick my belt and fly open, dropping my jeans and boxers to my spread knees.
I slide her skirt up and her panties aside and with one hard thrust claim her again.
Her head smacks back against the wall as her moan of pleasure rips from her body.
We’re silent except for our pants and grunts. The frantic pace is raw and carnal. She opens her eyes and slides a hand down my face, distracting me and interrupting the rhythm.
She begins to say something but watching her face, seeing the ecstasy, knowing I did that and she’s all fucking mine? It awakens the caveman in me, and I pound relentlessly, rocking her up the wall.
“Need you to touch yourself, Emberleigh.”
“Not ready yet.”
“You are, baby. Play with your clit.”
“I don’t want it to end.”
“You’re close, baby, and you’re wound tight. Let go. Trust me.”
Her eyes hold mine. Her hand rests on my face, and she says simply, “I do, Braxton. I do trust you. I—” But I lose her gaze as her eyes roll toward the ceiling. I drop my head to tease and bite her nipple, sending off ripples in her pussy and spasms of pleasure through my cock.
“You’re fucking perfect, Em. You’re … everything.” I come so hard I have to fight to keep my knees from buckling.
I glide in and out of her, feeling the perfection of her pussy, how beautifully she fits in my arms, knowing that my life is one hundred and eighty degrees different—better, fuller, richer—than when she crashed into my life in June.
Still moving inside her, I pull back and hold her sated gaze. “I’m in love with you, Emberleigh Carrington. Don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’ll work every day for you to know how precious you are to me.”
She smiles. A raw, genuine one that breaks across her face as if it climbed from inside her and burst forth. “I love you, Braxton Ranger.”
We stay like that, wrapped in each other, holding each other, inside and out, until I can feel the evidence of our time together leaking from her.
“Need to clean you up, baby.” I lift her off my cock to a soft mewl and walk her down the hallway, ruining my swagger with my short, knees-tied stride. She giggles and I swat her ass playfully. “Don’t ruin my super romantic gesture.”
“Never thought walking like a penguin was considered romantic, but I’ll go with that.”
We clean up and manage not to have round two in the shower. It’s an older house, and the shower is small. I flirt and touch Emberleigh, but negotiating the space doesn’t work when there are two people and one of them is six four.
She checks on Colt while I toss our clothes in the laundry. I jumped the gun on that since the only food I can find in the house is peanut butter and old crackers, and some condiments in the fridge.
“You want food delivery?” I call down the hall from the kitchen where I’m still wrapped in a towel.
“Not willing to wait that long.” She reaches for the crackers and rips into them. “I’m wiped and an hour for delivery, no matter what it is, isn’t worth it. What time do we need to be back in the morning?”
“You planning on sleeping in?”
“I wish. Just want to make sure I’m ready. Will probably get up and work first thing. I haven’t even checked in on my client that was hacked.”
I nod. I get it. Life isn’t always scheduled.
“A favor?” I ask. “No, a business opportunity.”
“Whatcha got?” She leans a hip against the counter where she’s smearing crackers with peanut butter and extends one to me.
“The ranch is about to be in the news. Or already is. We need someone who can speak on behalf of the family, who can guide us through the next little bit to unstick us from this mess. Are you willing to do that?”
She cocks her head, thinking.
“It’s a paying role. Whatever you think is appropriate. Remember, of course, that I’m not rich, but we can’t afford to take a PR hit. And we’ll need to make sure our current customers are aware that we’re still producing quality horses.”
“The ranch is worth thirty-two million, according to state records, but I won’t break the bank. And I’d have a lot to learn about the business, but I can do that. No sense in bankrupting Colt’s legacy.” She extends another smeared cracker before having one.
“Give or take.”
“What?”
“Thirty-two, give or take, and I don’t know whether to be impressed or worried.”
“Not after your money, Braxton. I was set by eighteen with my trust and I work my ass off. I do well. I won’t work for free”—she smears more crackers—“because I’m damn good at what I do. But I won’t steal from you or Colt.”
“Then it’s done. You’re the voice of the ranch.”
Emberleigh
“Pop,” I reply simply.
“Huh?”
“For what we’re about to go through, Pop is the face and the voice. He has the experience, he is genuine and believable, and he’s the victim. We need his credibility and likeability. The sympathy he could muster can only help.”
“He won’t like this at all.”
“I know.” I smile. Pop will hate it. “He’ll grumble, but he’s the right choice. I’ll coach him. He has the time and he doesn’t need an attorney at this point.”
He hears what I don’t say. He took the shot. One reporter with a creatively worded question could torpedo Braxton. And he needs to focus on growing the business. Not be the face, not be the voice.
I ball up the cracker sleeve and twist the cap back onto the peanut butter.
“Pop also has the time to invest in me to learn the business while you’re running it.”
He’s thoughtful. “And after?”
“When we change campaigns, we can consider then. If Pop is the likable grandfather figure who everyone trusts, we’ll keep him. If research shows we need a different tactic, we’ll take it.”
“Okay.” He chews the inside of his lip. “But you’re telling him.”
I toss the cracker sleeve trash at him.
“That’s low.” But I laugh. “Maybe I’ll mention it while he’s still in bed. Ooh, or while he’s holding Colt. He can’t throttle me then.”
Braxton laughs at that too. “Now you’re learning.”
He extends a hand, and I accept, and we head to bed.
When I’m almost asleep, I hear Braxton’s quiet rumble, behind me. “Em?”
I stiffen, but know it’s not about Emerson, and for the first time, it doesn’t sting. “Yeah?”
“Want you to move in.”
I roll over and stare at him in the dark. “Braxton, you know I already live there, right?”
“With me. Our room. Want you to give up your bed and be in ours.”
“You sure?”
“You love me?” he asks plainly.
“Yes.”
“And I love you,” he continues. “So, yes, I’m sure.”
I roll over and into him, snaking my arm across his belly, crooking my leg over his thigh. “Okay,” I murmur against his chest.
“You need an office and we know that Colt needs his space.” His hand slides down to cup my ass. “We both have a lot going on, but think we can get those things done by his birthday?”
“Yeah. What about your weight equipment?”
“I’ll figure that out. Probably move it somewhere on the ranch. Not like I’m not getting to work out.” He squeezes my butt.
“You figure that all out. When the rooms are empty, I’ll take it from there. That work?”
“Yeah, baby. Sleep now.”
I want to say yeah, yeah but he’s right. I need sleep that isn’t accompanied with beeping, buzzing, and the constant interruptions of people walking in and out.
“Love you, Braxton,” I say and sink toward sleep.
“Love you, Emberleigh.” He kisses my forehead, and I know everything is going to be okay.