Chapter 16 #2
“You think I don’t know what you’re doing?” My hands slid to her hips, fingers curling into bare skin at the edges of those tiny shorts. Her knees trembled.
Heaven help me, I wanted her so bad I was half feral with it.
“You’re making it hard to work, sweetheart,” I said, pinning her gently but firmly with my body, my thigh sliding between hers until she gasped. “And I’m done pretending I’m not losing my goddamn mind over you.”
Her fingers tightened on my shoulders, nails biting. “Then don’t pretend,” she whispered. “Lee… please.”
I kissed her—hard, deep, claiming—and she met me with equal fire, equal hunger. Her hands tangled in my hair, pulling me closer, her body arching into mine like she couldn’t get enough.
I slid my hands down, gripping her thighs, lifting her effortlessly. Her legs wrapped around me, her breath breaking in a tiny, helpless sound.
“Christ, Steph,” I rasped against her throat, sucking at her skin until she moaned. “I want you so fucking bad.”
I pulled her shorts aside with one rough, desperate movement, just enough for my fingers to slide in and feel just how bad she wanted this too.
She gasped—head back, mouth open, body arching beautifully.
“Already wet,” I growled. “But I knew you would be. All this flirting… You wanted this, didn’t you? Wanted me half out of my mind for you. Unable to think about anything other than the way you moan for me. How good you take my cock.”
“Yes,” she breathed. “God, yes, Lee, don’t stop.”
“You’re such a tease, Steph.” I was panting now, entranced by the way my hand looked slipping beneath her clothes, taking what’s mine. “I fucking love it.”
I slid my fingers inside her, slow at first, then deeper, harder, watching her fall apart right in my hands. Her nails dug into my shoulders, her hips grinding against my palm.
“I gave you what you wanted, now give me what I want,” I whispered against her ear. “Come for me. Right here. Right now. Let go for me.”
She shattered—writhing, gasping, clinging to me like she’d drown without me holding her up.
I kissed her through it, swallowing her cries, stroking her until she trembled and sagged against me, breathless.
Then I lifted her chin, her eyes blissed out and hazy. “What happened to waiting until tonight?” she said, voice slurred and dreamy.
I spun her around quickly, making her squeak. I popped the button on her shorts and sent them to her ankles. “Fuck waiting,” I said, pulling my cock out. “I’m not finished with you.”
I didn’t give her a chance to respond and kicked her feet wider while tugging her panties to the side. Her back arched, ready, and I rocked forward, filling her in one go.
“Oh fuck,” she groaned. Her head fell forward to the wooden wall as I drove into her.
I braced a hand on her hip, the other on her shoulder, my grip tight. My pace was relentless, brutal, and she took it all. Just like I knew she would.
“This what you wanted?” I panted. The sound of our bodies connecting, her moans, my grunts filled the barn, and I couldn’t give a damn anymore who heard.
“Yes,” she whimpered.
“Can’t hear you.”
“Yes!” she cried out
After, we tried to make ourselves presentable, both breathing hard, grinning like idiots who'd just gotten away with something. Her lips were swollen, and she had that satisfied look that made me want to start all over again.
"We're never going to get anything done if you keep attacking me in barns," I said, tucking some of her hair behind her ear, trying to make her look less like she'd just been thoroughly ravished.
She arched a brow, smirking. “Who attacked who? In fact, I distinctly remember you saying—"
I covered her mouth with my hand. "We don't need to recap."
She licked my palm, making me jerk back, and she laughed—that bright, free sound that I'd do anything to hear every day for the rest of my life.
"I can see myself getting absolutely nothing done with you around," I said, straightening my shirt, which had somehow gotten completely twisted. "You're too distracting."
"Good thing you like being distracted." She kissed my jaw, smug and glowing with satisfaction, looking like the cat that got the cream.
We managed to actually work for the next hour, fixing the fence posts that had indeed been knocked loose by the storm.
She held boards steady while I hammered, anticipating what I needed, passing me tools before I asked for them.
Even mundane ranch work felt charged with her there, every movement deliberate and somehow sensual.
"You know," she said, watching me drive in a nail with three solid strikes, "there's something very attractive about a man who's good with his hands."
"Is that so?"
"Mm-hmm. All that competent hammering. Very...thorough. Very...rhythmic."
I snorted, shaking my head while moving onto the next post. “You’re impossible."
"Impossibly charming? Impossibly sexy? Impossibly—"
My phone rang, cutting her off. The ringtone was the one I used for ranger dispatch—sharp, official, impossible to ignore. The sound was like cold water on the heated moment, reality crashing back in.
"Walker," I answered, already feeling the shift from rancher to ranger, from man to law enforcement.
"Liam, we need you." It was Captain Baker, and his voice had that edge that meant serious, the tone that made my gut tighten. "Missing child, possible abduction. Six-year-old girl, taken from her front yard in Millerville."
Everything in me went cold and focused, the playful morning evaporating. "How long?"
"Two hours. Maybe three. Parents just noticed she was gone. Hannah Sullivan. Brown hair, brown eyes, wearing a pink Disney princess shirt."
"Send me the details. I'm forty minutes out."
"Make it thirty if you can. We need our best on this."
I hung up and found Stephy watching me, her playfulness completely gone, replaced by understanding and something else—concern.
“Six-year-old girl got kidnapped,” I said, the words grating like sandpaper on my tongue.
"Go," she said simply, but her hand found mine, squeezing.
"Steph—"
“Missing child trumps everything. Go."
I kissed her, quick but fierce, trying to put everything I couldn't say into it. "I don't know how long—"
"Doesn't matter. I'll be here." She touched my face, grounding me for a moment, her thumb brushing across my cheekbone. “Go do what you do best.”
I took the fastest shower of my life, scrubbing off sweat, hay, and the scent of her that I already missed. Dressed quickly—dark slacks, pressed button-down, boots polished enough to pass inspection, holster fitted, badge clipped over my heart.
By the time I shrugged into my jacket and checked my weapon, I didn’t look like the man who’d spent the morning tangled up with Stephy in a barn.
I looked like the man the state of Texas expected me to be.
Still, the clothes felt heavier than usual.
Or maybe it was just the weight of walking out that door and leaving her behind.
When I came back out, Stephy was waiting by my truck, arms wrapped around herself despite the warm afternoon.
"Be careful," she said.
"Always am."
"Be extra careful. For me."
Something twisted in my gut—not about the case, but about leaving her. We'd barely been apart since I'd brought her here, and something about this morning, about how happy and free she'd been, made me want to stay.
"Maybe I should—"
"Go," she said firmly, but I caught the slight tremor in her voice. "That little girl needs you. I'll be fine. I'll work with Poet, maybe plant some veggies, and write some songs. Ivy said she might come by later to check on her breeding program."
"Keep your phone on you."
"I will."
"And stay close to the house."
"Lee." She grabbed my shirt, pulled me down for one more kiss, this one slower, deeper. "I'll be fine. I promise."
But even as she said it, I saw something flicker in her eyes. Fear? Uncertainty? It was gone before I could identify it.
My hand was on the back of her head before I knew it, pulling her into me. I planted a kiss on her forehead, savoring having her in my arms. And sent a silent prayer to whoever was listening that she’d be okay while I was gone.
I drove away, watching her in the rearview mirror as she stood there in those illegal shorts and my stolen hat, waving.
The image burned into my memory—Stephy in the afternoon sun, golden and beautiful and mine.
The unease grew with every mile I put between us, which was ridiculous.
She was on the ranch. She was safe. The stalker was in LA with no idea where she was.
But I couldn't shake the feeling that I should turn around. That I should stay. That something was off, like the calm before the storm, everything too still, too perfect.
Twenty minutes into the drive, I almost called her just to hear her voice, to confirm she was okay. But that was paranoid. She was fine. She was strong. She didn't need me hovering every second. She'd been making such progress, feeling safe even when I wasn't right there.
The missing child case took priority—a scared little girl somewhere, parents going out of their minds with worry. Hannah Sullivan, six years old, who should be safe in her yard playing with dolls, not missing, not taken. That's where I needed to focus.
But as I hit the highway, pushing the truck past ninety, duty calling me forward while my heart pulled me back, I couldn't stop thinking about the morning.
About how happy Stephy had been. About the way she'd laughed, free and easy, like she'd finally remembered how. About the barn, her warmth, her joy.
I should have stayed one more minute. Should have kissed her one more time. Should have told her I loved her, even though she knew, even though I'd said it a hundred times in a hundred ways.
But I hadn't, and now the miles stretched between us like years, and all I could do was promise myself that when this was over, when the child was found and the case was closed, I'd rush back to her.
I'd take all the minutes. Every single one she'd give me.
The unease settled in my chest like a stone, heavy and wrong, but I pushed it down. Focused on the road. On the case. On the job that needed doing.
Still, her image stayed in my mind—laughing in the morning sun, her hair a mess, looking like everything I'd ever wanted and never thought I could have.