Page 38 of Where I Should’ve Been

There’s no room for talking, and there’s certainly no space for thinking. Because if I think—if I really let myself think—Randy’s words from earlier today will crawl back in. And then I’ll have to think about the ghosts that are always clawing for air and the things I can’t change, no matter how many fences I fix or sheep I wrangle.

So, I don’t think. I take.

I scoop Breezy up, her legs wrapping around me in a smooth sweep and her heels digging into my back as I carry her down the hall. She’s light, but the weight of her feels grounding, anchoring me in the present.

“You’d better make good on your promise,” she whispers. Her voice is teasing, and her smile is sly.

I growl in answer, lips crashing back onto hers. My grip on her tightens, and she gasps into my mouth. I don’t bother with clever comebacks because my actions will speak louder than words.

The bedroom door slams open, and I lay her down hard, hovering over her, caging her in. Her sweater rides up, and I skim my hand along the soft line of her stomach. She arches into my touch like she’s daring me to keep going.

“You feel like fucking heaven,” I murmur, and my voice is rough and raspy like sandpaper.

Her lips curve. “And you feel…hungry.”

“That’s probably because I’m starving.”

Clothes fall away fast. Too fast. It’s clumsy and frantic and not at all polished, but I don’t care. She’s bare beneath me, and that’s all that matters.

The instant I sink into her, we both groan, and the desperate sounds tangle together and bounce off the walls of my bedroom.

She grips my shoulders, pulling me closer. “Tad.”

I press my forehead to hers, thrusting harder, deeper, chasing something I can’t even name. And she takes me with a gasping moan, her nails biting into the skin of my back.

It’s not making love. It’s not soft or slow. It’s straight-up fucking. It’s heated and intense and all-consuming.

Her sexy little smiles, the way she bites her lip, and the sharp press of her heels against the backs of my thighs only fuel me further. And when she comes undone beneath me, her body clenching, her voice breaking on my name, I fall with her. Hard.

The room is silent after, except for our breathing.

I collapse beside her, sweat cooling on my skin and my chest still heaving. She curls onto her side, hair mussed, lips swollen, and eyes half lidded but sharp as she looks over at me.

“Damn,” I manage on a raspy chuckle, my words dragging in the air.

Her smile turns lazy. “You say that like you didn’t expect it to be good.”

“Oh, I expected good,” I say, grinning. “Just wasn’t prepared for holy fuck good.”

She laughs, low and pleased, and the room goes quiet for a second, until I realize that my dick is feeling a little too free at the moment.

“Shit.” My brain finally catches up, and my stomach dips. “Shit. Shit. Shit.”

“What?”

“I…I didn’t use a condom,” I admit. “I…fuck. Yeah, I completely forgot to put one on. I’m so sorry, Breezy. I didn’t—”

“Relax, Farmer Tad,” she cuts me off, but her voice is incredibly calm. Hell, she’s not freaking at all. She props her head on her hand. “I’m on birth control. Have been for quite a few years now.”

Instantly, relief rolls through me.

“And,” she adds, smiling over at me, “I haven’t exactly been on the rodeo circuit lately, so I’m, you know, clean.”

“Well, that makes two of us.” I huff out a short laugh. “It’s been a while since I’ve been with anyone.” After the truth leaves my lips, something in my chest stirs and memories threaten to flood my brain, but I force them back to the deep recesses before they can bubble to the surface.

“Yeah?” she asks, outright surprised. “Could’ve fooled me. I’ve seen the way half the women in town look at you.”

I eye her with a teasing quirk of my brow. “Looking and doing are two very different things.”