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"Look at you," I grunt, my hand coming down on her ass. The crack echoes in the quiet room. "Taking it so well. Woke up and decided you needed to be filled, huh?"

"Yes!"

I fuck her harder, feeling the sweat start to bead on my skin, the heat building low in my gut. She's pushing back against every thrust, meeting me stroke for stroke, and I know I'm not gonna last.

I reach around, find her clit, and rub rough circles while I pound into her.

She screams into the pillow.

That does it. I bury myself deep, spilling inside her with a growl that comes from somewhere primal. She clenches around me, milking every drop. We stay like that for a long, breathless moment.

I collapse beside her, pulling her into my arms. She's laughing, breathless and carefree, and I kiss the side of her neck.

"Good morning."

She slaps my chest weakly. "You're an animal."

"Your animal."

We clean up quickly. I find her a pair of shorts to wear under the shirt, and she pulls her hair into a messy knot. When we head downstairs, her hand's laced through mine, and I can still taste her on my lips.

Clint's at the stove, bacon sizzling, coffee already poured. He turns when he hears us, and the smirk that spreads across his face is pure villain.

"Well, well. Now that you're loosened up, Darling, eat. I got some things to do in the pig barn today, but then we're taking you to the drive-in tonight."

Autumn groans, burying her face in my shoulder. I just grin, pulling out a chair for her.

"I already had breakfast, but a snack sounds perfect."

Chapter

Forty-Two

Clint

By the time I finish feeding the pigs, I've got mud halfway up my boots and enough regrets to fill a notebook. What started as a quick check of the automatic waterer turned into forty-five minutes of crawling around in a muddy feed lot, trying to figure out why the damn nipples wouldn't stop leaking. Every time I thought I'd fixed one, another started dripping.

The waterer’s finally fixed, so I move on to the feed lot panels. One section near the gate has been loose for weeks. Not broken enough to demand immediate attention, but broken enough to annoy me every time I walk past it.

The afternoon disappears beneath a drill and a steady stream of profanity. By the time I've got the panels tightened back up, the sun is lower in the sky and my shoulders are reminding me I'm not eighteen anymore. I toss the tools into the back of the side-by-side and head toward the house.

The screen door slams before I even reach the porch, and Autumn appears carrying a jacket.

"Finally."

I stop halfway up the steps. "Hello to you, too."

The front door opens behind her. Tripp appears and immediately points at her.

"She started checking the clock at five-thirty."

"I did not."

"You asked me what time it was four times."

She sticks her tongue out at him. "That's not legitimate evidence."

For a second, I just look at her standing there on the porch, bickering with us about absolutely nothing. Not that long ago, she'd been counting down the days until she could leave. Now she's arguing over whose turn it is to take the trash out, like she's always belonged here.