We’re wild animals. For a second, I forget about the wedding, my tight schedule, and my nagging ex. Instead, all I can think about is each new height of passion Braxton stirs inside of me with every deep, hard thrust. He doesn’t treat me like I’m breakable or delicate—instead, he gives it to me, knowing full well I can take whatever he throws my way.
And I can. I’m teetering on the edge of an orgasm and I wrap my arms and legs around him, holding onto him tightly. He smells like autumn leaves, wet river, and Braxton’s own personal overpriced musk. My thighs begin to quiver, and my insides grow tight. I grab his curly hair, throw my head back and—
—cry out! I come crashing over the edge, violently, and my body throbs in rapid pulses around him. Braxton doesn’t let up, not right away, and he draws out my orgasm until he spills over as well. I feel it, burning hot inside of me, and I lock my legs around his hips to keep him deep inside of me for just a moment longer.
We both catch our breath in the moments that pass. The wind rustles the leaves on the trees, and the woods shiver and shudder. Eventually, we have to pull ourselves together.
“Are you ready for me to pull out?” Braxton asks. His tone is unnaturally considerate.
I nod. “Yes.”
He eases out of me, and I immediately feel the absence of him. Braxton shifts slightly to fix his pants back over his hips, his belt clicking into place. I too shift, lowering my heels back down to the ground before I yank my panties back under my dress.
“So?” Braxton says expectantly.
“So…?”
“Am I all bark?”
I laugh. “You tell me.” I lift my chin to give him a good view of my throat.
He touches my jaw and squints at the hickey. “You may want to knit that scarf.”
“I’ll have to get you back for that,” I tell him.
“Next time.” His voice is a low purr now, like a satisfied panther, and he tilts in to brush his lips against mine.
I dip my chin, however, pulling my lips out of his reach. “Yeah…that’s probably not a good idea. I mean…this was wonderful. But we should be…uh…”
My head is spinning. Words are failing me.
His dark eyes lock on mine. “Professional.”
“Right,” I agree, making a vague gesture with my hand. “That.”
I start to back away from the fence, but Braxton grabs me suddenly and pulls me close again. “I’m afraid that will be entirely impossible for me,” he says. “I’m addicted to you now, Susie Posy.”
I’m breathless. His lips brush mine, and I lean in to complete the kiss, but he steps back. “We should head back,” he adds. “Before Cora sends a search party.”
With that, Braxton pulls away from me and makes his way down the hill again, toward the farmhouse. I’m flushed, and I need a second to calm the rushed beating of my heart. I wet my lips, and I can still taste him. Braxton West and his darkly delicious kisses.
8
Braxton
I’m not a breakfast kind of guy.
My mornings start with a double shot of espresso and the click-click-click of my inbox as I scroll through my work emails. But Roxanne Dalton is a charming woman, and I’m trying not to be a complete jerk to her, so I take part in her family-style breakfast around the table. I let the plate of scrambled eggs, sausage, beans, and a freshly baked biscuit steam in front of me as I peer through the rims of my reading glasses to scan my laptop.
I have a couple emails about the winery that I mark urgent and forward to my partner in Long Island. Meanwhile, everyone slowly filters downstairs one by one.
“Hell, Mama, this looks delicious.” Ray clunks over like bull and flops down at the head of the table.
“Figured I’d give your Northern friends a little taste of Southern hospitality,” Roxanne calls back as she clatters and putters around the kitchen. If I were a betting man, I’d guess she hasn’t stopped moving since she woke up at the crack of dawn this morning.
“It smells great, Missus Dalton.” I fix my attention on my emails so I don’t have to look at Ray’s face. The reception here is crap, but I flick my thumb repeatedly over the Refresh button regardless.
Ray, unfortunately, feels the need to make small talk with me because he leans across the table. “Phone’s giving you trouble? You can only get reception in certain spots in this house, I’m afraid. Call us backwards, but we prefer trees to them cell towers. If you need to, I can give you a ride into town—”
“That won’t be necessary.” The idea of spending more time with Ray than I have to makes me want to grind away my filings. I give up trying to get my email to work and tuck my phone into my back pocket. My eyes trail over Ray’s colorful, patterned shirt. The fabric looks nice, thin, not his usual bulky wool.
“Nice shirt,” I tell him.
Ray breaks into one of his too-large grins, like a floppy laborer. “You like it? You Wests must have the same taste. Your sister got this one for me.”
“Paid for it too, I imagine.”
Half of his smile drops like a cheap window shade. “She’s a sweet girl. She likes to give me gifts.”
“Not as much as you like to get gifts, I’m sure.”
Before I can outright call him a sugar baby, Ray glances around furtively and then reaches into his shirt pocket. “Listen…I’ve got something I want you to hold on to. Seeing as you’re my best man…and Cora’s brother…it feels right.”
He takes something tiny out of his pocket and passes it over the table to me. I hold out my palm, and he drops a small box into it.
My blood goes cold. I know what it is, but I open the velvet box anyway.
The wedding ring is a small wedding band. There are tiny diamonds encrusted along it, making it shimmer in the light.
As much as I hate to admit it, Cora will love this.
“You think you can hold on to that for me, buddy?” Ray says and gives me that dopey, hopeful smile.
I don’t want to hold on to it. I don’t want to hold on to anything to do with this wedding. I’m more likely to forget I have it and run it through the washing machine than I am to keep it safe. Before I can tell him to give it to someone who cares, however, we’re interrupted by the clip of heels and rapid-fire women chatter.
Ray gives me a frantic look. I simply nod and tuck the box into my pants pocket. Relief spreads across his face.
My sister and Susie join us at the table, both squeaking with delight when they see the setup.
“Oh, Roxanne, this is too much! It looks wonderful!” Cora is clearly in a better mood today, and she flutters around the table like a hummingbird. “Morning, four-eyes.” Cora tilts over and presses a kiss to the side of my face.
Yes. Certainly in a good mood. I close the laptop, put it underneath my chair, and fold my glasses, tucking those away as well.
Cora practically jumps around the table and into Ray’s bear arms. “Good. Morning,” she tells him, pecking a kiss to his lips between each word.
I look away before my blood temperature boils over. Susie picks the chair next to me and sets a yellow legal pad beside her. Her handwriting is small, tight, and curly. She smells like vanilla, and she’s dressed in a loose, chevron-patterned shirt. I don’t know if it’s the humidity or the morning, but her hair has frizzled out nearly twice its size. Perhaps my sister’s PDA is rubbing off on me, but I want to slip my hand under Susie’s shirt and feel her skin warm underneath my touch.