Chapter 9
Tad
Friday nights in Red Bridge aren’t glamorous. Not for me anyway.
Most weeks, I’d be sitting on a stool at The Country Club right about now, nursing a whiskey or three, letting the live band or local karaoke singers drown out the noise in my head.
Half the town is usually there, ringing in the weekend with some fun.
And I willingly play along, being the charming, happy, talkative Tad they all know and love, while I use alcohol to momentarily forget all the shit that eats away at me.
But tonight, I didn’t feel like numbing it all.
I didn’t feel like drinking until the edges blurred and faces became meaningless or getting cut off just in time for Randy to show up to play chauffeur.
Maybe it’s the snow. Maybe it’s that stupid newspaper article. Maybe it’s the fact that I was working on the farm until well past ten this evening. Or maybe it’s Breezy Bishop, coming into town like a beautiful, complicated reminder that you’re still alive.
Instead of whiskey, I drank water. Instead of the live music, I listened to the hum of the old heater as I made a late sandwich.
Now I’m standing in my living room in nothing but boxer briefs, towel slung around my shoulders, hair still damp from a shower hot enough to scald the day off me.
I’ve got three weak spots in the fence to patch tomorrow—weak spots my damn sheep made from constant head-butting.
If I don’t fix them, I’ll wake up to find the whole flock parading down Main Street again and Randy being taken away in an ambulance on account of a stress-induced heart attack.
I’m about to call it a night when there’s a knock at the door.
Instantly, I groan. Probably Midnight Randy here to bitch some more about my lack of planning, my half-assed gate repairs, and my nonexistent strategy. I swear, we argued enough earlier today to last a lifetime, but that’s my brother for you—never met a dead horse he wouldn’t beat.
I swing the door open, already gearing up for round two, but freeze solid instead. Because it’s not Randy.
It’s Breezy Bishop.
Her black bob is sleek and shiny even under the weak porch light. Her boots are dusted with snow, and her striking blue eyes are steady on mine.
“Everything okay?” I ask, thrown completely off my easygoing script. I tucked it in for the night, thinking I was alone.
Her mouth curves like she knows exactly how much she’s knocked me sideways. “You tell me.” And then she steps past me, straight into the house like she belongs here.
The scent of her perfume cuts through the faint smell of soap that’s still clinging to my skin. And I stand there dumbly for a second, hand still on the door like my brain needs a reboot.
“You said your door’s always open,” she tosses over her shoulder, a casual, cautious flirt. “Or was that more of a…neighborly thing. Like, in case I needed a bag of sugar or a wrench.”
“I don’t have any sugar. And you don’t look like you’d come looking for a wrench.”
She grins. “I’m not here for a wrench.” Her eyes sweep over me, taking in my bare feet, damp hair, boxer briefs, and towel slung over my shoulders. “Or a bag of sugar either.” She closes the distance between us. “I’m curious, what do you think I came here for, Tad?”
Her voice is playful but direct. Her smile is charming but deadly. If she’s a black widow, I’ll gladly tangle up in her entrancing web.
I arch a brow. “You sure you want to risk Eileen finding out about you coming over here this late?”
“Please.” Breezy laughs. “I waited until everyone at Bennett’s was in bed before I came over. I even checked your bushes before I knocked and didn’t see any camera lenses or hear heavy breathing.”
“Smart woman,” I murmur.
Her smile softens as she tilts her head. “What do you think I came here for, Tad?”
I glance at her boots, her perfect jeans, the way her sweater fits her like it was tailored. She’s so beautiful she doesn’t seem real. For a guy like me, that’s all the better. “I think you came here so you can be fully educated before leaving your Yelp review.”
“Finally.” Her responding laugh is warm and amused like she’s enjoying this game. “He’s catching up.”
“Hey, I’m not slow,” I protest. “I thought we slept together three days ago, remember? Maybe it was more fantasy than amnesia.”
She laughs, low and genuine, and damn if it doesn’t go straight to my chest. “You’re something else.”
“Something good?” I ask, playing dumb.
“Don’t push it.”
For a second, we stand there, the air buzzing between us. She doesn’t look away. Doesn’t fidget. She’s confident as hell, and it makes me feel like I’m the one being measured here.
Finally, she steps into my space, close enough I can smell the faint citrus of her perfume. “Relax, Tad. I’m here because I want to be.”
“Good. Because I want you here too.”
Her eyes flick down to my mouth, and it’s the green light I didn’t know I was waiting for.
I lift a hand, slowly, giving her the chance to back off. She doesn’t. My fingers skim her jaw, cool skin warming under my touch, and she leans in like she’s been waiting for this too.
“You sure?” I whisper, because I have to ask.
She smiles, small but certain. “Positive.”
And then, we’re kissing.
Her lips aren’t tentative or testing. They’re direct and confident and hold zero hesitation. They move against mine like she’s claiming me, and all I can do is match her, meet her, let her set the pace until I can’t help but take over.
Her hands grip my bare shoulders, pulling me closer, and I slide my arm around her waist, anchoring her to me. The kiss deepens, heat sparking, and suddenly the whole day—the sheep, the fences, Randy’s nagging—falls away.
It’s just her and me and this insanely arousing fucking kiss.
Her mouth is firm and insistent, and I meet her with everything I’ve got—every ounce of want I didn’t know was still in me.
Her hands tug at my bare shoulders and pull me closer, like she wants every inch of space gone. I don’t argue. I slide my palm down her back, over the curve of her waist, fitting her to me until there’s no more breathing room between us.
She breaks the kiss just long enough to catch her breath. Her forehead rests against mine, and her voice is low and teasing as she says, “Is this what your fantasy had in mind?”
“Oh, Breeze. I’ve just barely started,” I whisper back, earning a small laugh that goes straight through me.
I kiss her again, and this one is slower. Deeper. The kind of kiss that makes the rest of the world vanish.
Her laugh is muffled against my mouth when I back her toward the hall. She keeps at me like she’s dared herself not to stop.
Her confidence is intoxicating.
By the time we reach the bedroom, I’m half undone. Her sweater’s in my hands, her hair’s loose, and her pulse thrums beneath my fingertips. She looks up at me—eyes bright, lips swollen, cheeks flushed—and something in my chest goes quiet.
She smiles like she knows exactly what she’s doing to me. “You gonna kiss me again—or just stand there thinking about it?”
I answer with a kiss that’s rougher this time, a low sound escaping her throat as I press her back against the sheets.
The world narrows to skin and breath and the heat between us. It’s not frantic. It’s deliberate. A slow, hungry rhythm that feels like remembering how to live.
And for the first time in a long damn time, everything I’m fighting in the background gets lost because I can’t find my way out of her.
I remove her boots and clothes with methodical but quick precision before she does the same with my boxer briefs, and I have to catch my damn breath when I see her sprawled out naked on my bed.
Her breasts move up and down with each panting breath, and her pussy shines with arousal between her thighs.
My cock is hard and jutting out from my body as I stare down at her, every cell inside me craving to bury myself deep.
She hands me a condom, and I laugh. “I love a woman with the prepared is best mentality.” She smirks, and I put it on and crawl over her body until the tip of my cock is pressed at her entrance.
I kiss her again, and the world dissolves away to heat and breath and desire.
Her bare skin against mine and the way her hips move from side to side, desperate for me to push inside, feels unreal.
I can’t remember the last time I let myself want something this freely, defenses down with no time spent calculating the risk.
Tonight, I’m not punishing myself. I want her too much to stop. Plain and simple.
I roll onto my back, taking her body with mine, until she’s lying on top of me. “Put my cock inside you,” I demand. Her dark hair spills over her eyes and pulls my mind deeper into ecstasy. It’s another layer to peel, another sensation to feel.
Breezy’s confidence takes my fucking breath away and makes me want to match it.
She kneels around my hips and guides my cock inside her. The pace is mind-bendingly slow but so incredibly addictive at the same time. And she’s warm and tight and her pussy squeezes my cock with a grip that makes my head feel like it’s going to explode.
She’s also wet—so fucking wet, I can practically feel her through the condom.
Fuck me.
“Now, ride me,” I tell her, gripping her hips tightly and guiding her up and down my length. The sight of my hands on her skin amplifies every sensation.
Her tits bounce with each thrust, and her lips part every time my cock fills her up.
“Goddamn,” I whisper. “You’re perfect.”
She moans. But she keeps going. Up and down. Up and down. She rides my cock like she needs this release as much as I do.
Fuck, she feels so good. Too good.
I flip her onto her back and spread her thighs wide.
I push myself to the hilt, but I stay there.
“You’re going to come on my cock,” I say and move my hands down her body.
I grab her perfect breasts, feeling their softness in contrast to my work-roughened hands.
I lean forward and suck her nipples into my mouth, flicking my tongue against the sensitive buds until her hips start to squirm against me.
And when the urge to keep fucking her grows too strong, I get on my knees and move my hand to her clit, drawing lazy circles with my index finger. Her arousal coats my skin, and her moans mix with mine, echoing off the walls of my bedroom.
She arches her back, and her eyes damn near roll to the back of her head as the first waves of her orgasm consume her body.
As she rides the waves of her pleasure, I drive my cock inside her at a deep and frantic pace. Her pussy clenches around me, gripping me like a fucking vise, and I can’t hold back any longer.
I come hard with my cock pushed deep inside Breezy Bishop, and this time, I know for sure it really happened.