Chapter Three
I WAS surprised in the morning when ice cubes were put on my stomach. When I yelled and the squeals of delight filled the room, the giggling and little arms wrapped around my neck, I realized that it wasn’t ice, but feet. Micah and Pip were both giggling like psychopaths as Tristan snickered from where he was flipping channels.
“Why are you here?” I asked the spawn of Satan. I had obviously missed that they were evil the night before. Maybe sleep deprivation had finally melted my brain.
“We came to pick up you and Uncle Cyrus to go to Nana and Grandpa’s.”
What?
Family?
More family? Was he high?
I tossed the comforter off of me, put it back over Pip and Micah, and walked out into the kitchen where I smelled coffee.
“Good morning,” Carolyn greeted me as I staggered over first to her brother to kiss him and then to the coffee pot.
“Ma’am, your children are evil.”
She laughed softly. “Tell me they did not put their freezing little feet on your stomach.”
“They did.” I glared at her.
“God,” she said and sighed, “they are one hundred percent in love with you.”
I grunted as Cyrus walked over to me.
“How did you sleep, cowboy?”
“Ain’t a cowboy no more,” I said, sipping the black coffee.
“You’ll always be my cowboy,” he said, gravel voiced and sleepy, placing soft kisses along the underside of my jaw. I couldn’t stop the rumbling purr that came out of me.
Carolyn made a noise, but I couldn’t be bothered to look at her. I was far too interested in her brother and his hands roaming up under my T-shirt.
“This weekend,” he began, fingers tracing over the muscles in my abdomen, “I promised my folks I’d drive up to their place in Half Moon Bay because my brother Brett and his family are spending the holidays with his wife’s family this year so we won’t see them again until after the New Year.”
“Okay.”
“Carolyn was supposed to go as well, of course, and take her kids.”
“And my husband.” She sighed. “Don’t forget I was supposed to have a husband as well.”
“That ain’t your fault, darlin’,” I reminded her.
“I know, but still.”
I put the coffee down, even though I needed it to wake up, because I needed Cy more. The allure of the man was overwhelming. “Well, you should go.” I yawned, wrapping my arms around him, drawing him close. “I can stay here.”
“Oh no,” Carolyn chimed in from behind me. “I want you to spend more time with the boys, Weber, and I want to talk to you about Micah.”
“I don’t wanna be in the way,” I said, smoothing a hand down Cy’s back, pressing him tighter against me.
“You won’t be.” She sighed. “I promise. Believe me, both my brother and I need you as a buffer from our parents.”
“Is that right?” I asked Cy as I tipped his chin up so I could see the cognac-colored eyes for myself.
“Yes.” He sighed. “My father and I are different kind of men, and my mother worries about me incessantly.”
I grinned at him. “So you get that from her, do you?”
“What? I never worry about anything?”
“You know you’ll turn to stone if you lie like that.”
“What do I ever worry about?”
I arched an eyebrow at him.
“That doesn’t count. Anyone in their right mind would worry about you.”
I chuckled, bent and kissed him, and then let him go, leaning back against the counter and smiling at Carolyn. “So, why doesn’t Micah talk?”
She sucked in her breath. “A little over a year ago, he was at home with my mother-in-law because he didn’t want to go to Tristan’s soccer game with the rest of us, and she had a heart attack and died. It was fast. She had an acute pulmonary embolism, and she was gone in a matter of seconds. Micah called 911, and that was the last time he’s spoken.”
Jesus. “He was with her alone until the ambulance came?” I asked her.
“Yes.”
“And how long was that?”
“Not long, ten minutes maybe.”
“That’s long for a little kid.”
“Too long, apparently. He hasn’t uttered a word in almost a year.”
“He laughs, though. I’ve heard him.”
“Yes. He laughs and cries and sneezes and coughs and…. It’s not physical, it’s not medical… he simply won’t speak.”
I nodded.
“We’ve tried hypnosis, we’ve tried—I mean, my husband and me, before he bailed with the nanny—we tried everything.” Her eyes filled and her breath caught fast and I moved forward, around the island to where she was sitting, and grabbed her off her stool.
I gently pressed her to my heart and patted her back with my other hand. “Any man that leaves his children is good for nothing, you hear me? A man can walk out on his wife, or his husband, and be forgiven, but a man who leaves his children ain’t one. I suspect he will come cryin’ back to you once he figures out that the nanny ain’t a woman but a girl instead. When he comes back, you got yourself a decision to make.”
She clung tight, breathing me in. “God, Weber, I so get why Cy’s in—”
“Lyn!” he barked at her.
“Oh,” she whimpered, “I have not been held like this in forever.”
I tilted her head up so she could see my face. “I am so sorry to hear that. Bein’ held is one of the best parts of havin’ a mate, ain’t it?”
“It should be, yes.” She nodded, wiping at her eyes and stepping back away from me.
“Okay,” I sighed, releasing her. “So now I understand. Micah didn’t save his grandmother, so he feels like he failed.”
“Yes.” She was crying again. “That’s exactly what his therapist thinks.”
“He feels he could have done somethin’.”
She nodded.
“Poor kid.” I exhaled before I turned away from her and yelled, “I’m coming back in there, and there better not be anybody in my bed!”
The squeals of laughter were clear from the other room.
“Jesus, Weber, they’re in love.”
“He’s addictive,” Cy said under his breath, but I heard him.
“I’m coming!” I yelled a second time.
I left the kitchen, and when I got to the bedroom, even Tristan was under the covers, the bed moving so hard it looked like it was rolling under the comforter. I lay down, complained about how lumpy the bed was as the laughter got louder and louder. When I threw the comforter off and yelled ah-hah at them, they all screamed at once. Diving down in slow motion, I made sure to miss them completely. They all piled on top of me once I was sprawled out, and the bed was a disaster area after that. We only stopped horsing around when Cy called us all out for breakfast.
LUCKILY for me Cyrus had washed, dried, and folded all my clothes before I woke up so I had something clean to wear. But that wasn’t enough, apparently, because he wanted me to agree to let him pick me up a few things.
“Like?” I asked as I was watching him shove clothes into an overnight bag for the weekend.
“Underwear,” he teased me. “T-shirts, socks. You love to run. What are you planning to run in while you’re here? I didn’t find any basketball shorts or anything else. You don’t even have any shoes other than your boots, which have holes in them.”
I squinted at him. “Maybe I should just stay here while you guys—”
“No.” He shook his head. “There’s a mall on the way out of town. Just don’t give me your usual crap and simply agree to let me get you some staples, okay? Please.”
I shrugged. “As long as I can pay you back.”
“But if you pay me back, then we’re on your budget and not mine, and I hate that.”
“This is your only option,” I said flatly. “Either I keep the receipt so I know what I owe you or we’re not goin’.”
“Why? Why do only you get a say?”
“Because I’m a goddamn grown-up, that’s why,” I snapped at him. “For crissakes, Cy, why are we even fightin’ about this?”
“Stop,” he snarled back at me, whirling around to face me, fuming. “You always do this. You always turn it into a money thing, and it’s not. This has nothing to do with money and everything to do with your stupid fucking pride.”
“You do not take care of me,” I told him, shaking my head. “I take care of me. Period.”
“No, not period,” he almost yelled, which surprised me.
He usually gave in, afraid I’d leave, and I played that card and threatened him to get him to back down. But this time was different because of his sister and because of the boys. He knew he had me, and my honor would never let me leave. I had given my word—unlike with Aidan or his brother in Alaska. Only Carolyn had pressed until she got it.
“You’re not going anywhere, at least not for two weeks, so if I want you to have new jeans since yours all have holes in them, I’ll get them for you. Whatever I want, I’ll get, and you’ll just take it because you have to.”
“I ain’t no doll for you to dress.”
“Why do you always have to fight with me?” he roared, stalking from the room, sputtering with fury.
I sat down hard on the end of the bed and waited.
Minutes later he was back.
I arched an eyebrow for him.
“No one ever makes me as angry as you do.”
“No one else even makes you angry at all, I reckon.” I grinned at him.
He thought about it a minute, and the look I got, full of amazement, made me laugh.
“Jesus, that’s true. You’re the only one who can get a rise out of me.”
I couldn’t stifle the snickering. “Come here.”
“Let me get you some things, all right? Not a lot, I won’t go nuts.”
“Swear.”
“I do.”
I nodded and waved him over to me.
He ran and leaped and I went down under a hundred and sixty-five pounds of very happy, carved, toned neurosurgeon.
In the car, or Carolyn’s huge-ass boat of an SUV, I stretched out in the back as Cyrus rode shotgun next to his sister.
Since Cy said my boots needed to be resoled—and he was right, they did—we dropped them off on the way, then drove to the mall with me in a pair of rubber galoshes that was all they had at the shoe repair place that we could buy for me to walk back out in. The first order of business was to get me some new footwear.
The boots at the department stores would not make it a week on the range so I passed. But I got a pair of running shoes and a pair of heavy hiking boots because the leather was thick and the sole was sewn on and not glued, which made it more durable. I had left my cowboy hat at Cy’s place, but my head was cold, and I felt naked without it. He got me a wool beanie.
“This is gonna fix things?” I asked him as he wrapped a scarf around my neck and his sister helped me on with a peacoat.
“Yes.” He beamed at me. “You look good. That coat is hot.”
I glowered at him.
“What? It is.”
“It’s a coat,” I grumbled.
“Can I get you dress shoes?”
“No.”
“Just a pair of black lace-ups to keep at my house?”
“No.”
“Please. You’ll need them.”
“For what?”
“I have a dinner to go to while you’re here.”
“I’ll stay home.”
His eyes softened.
“I mean, I’ll stay at your house.”
“You said ‘home’.”
“You know what I meant.”
“It was nice, how it sounded.”
“Oh for crissakes, Cy, you know I would stick around if there was shit I could do in San Francisco, but there ain’t, and I won’t live on you and be a whore!”
“Jesus,” Carolyn gasped.
“Shit,” I muttered because I forgot she was there as well as where I was.
“Letting me take care of you would not make you a whore,” Cy said tightly, his jaw clenched.
“But if I can’t provide for myself, I can’t respect myself. And how can you respect me if I don’t? It won’t work, and you’d come to hate me.”
He shook his head.
“You would,” I assured him. “And I won’t take that chance.”
“Why?”
I leveled my gaze at him. “I just won’t.”
He sighed heavily. “Well, I want you at that party with me, you stubborn piece of crap, so I’ll get the shoes, you wear them, and I’ll keep them. How’s that?”
“So they’d be yours.”
“Yes.”
I smiled at him. “Agreed.”
The muscles in his jaw flexed.
“Let’s go already. The kids are restless.”
“Fine,” he groused at me.
In the car after lunch, on the road toward Half Moon Bay, Tristan was asking Cy about leprosy for some reason, Pip and his mother were playing I Spy, and I was watching Micah draw me in his sketch pad.
“I like that rhinoceros,” I told him. “I’ve never ridden one of them before. Probably like bull riding, ya reckon?”
Micah nodded.
“Yeah.” I yawned, leaning closer to him.
He reached up and, not turning from looking at his page, put his left hand around the side of my face and smoothed his fingers over my cheek. I let my head clunk gently against the top of his and heard him sigh before I closed my eyes. I had no idea how tired I really was.
I felt a hand on my right knee, shaking gently, and when I opened my eyes, Cy was there, looking down at my face.
“We here?” I asked, sitting up and stretching.
“Yeah,” he said, sounding miserable.
I caught hold of his arm and pulled him close, our faces just inches apart. “I don’t want us to fight no more. Let’s stop fussin’ at each other and kiss and make up.”
His smile was sweet and sad and happy all at the same time. “I would love that.”
I puckered up, and he started laughing. “So not hot.”
“No?”
He lost it, and I grabbed him and pulled him into my arms and kissed him until it wasn’t funny anymore. I made sure when he got out of the SUV he was uncomfortable and squirming and cursing my name and promising retribution.
“Oh yeah?” I teased him.
“Oh, cowboy, you’re going to be so sorry we’re not alone,” he threatened me, eyes still cloudy with passion, his lips swollen and dark and bruised. He looked like I’d mauled him.
“Why’s that?” I asked, following him up the cobblestone path to the front door.
He grunted. “Because you are so going to want my ass, and I’ll be damned if you’ll get it.”
“Maybe it’s about time you had mine,” I said softly.
He froze.
I was proud of myself for not laughing, and when he turned to face me, mouth open, his eyes round in shock, I casually asked him what was wrong.
“You?”
“I?”
“You.”
“We’ve established this.” I grinned at him.
“You—” His breath came out in a rush. “—said you’ve never trusted anyone else enough to top.”
“That’s right.”
“So you’re saying what? You trust me enough?”
“That’s what I’m sayin’. Yessir.”
“Jesus, Weber,” he groaned, reaching for me, leaning hard, hands fisted on my chest, in the flannel shirt I was wearing under the new peacoat he had just bought me. “Don’t tease me.”
“When have you ever known me to do such a thing?”
“Never.” He closed his eyes, inhaling me.
“So then?”
“Oh, baby, please let me have you,” he moaned hoarsely as I kissed his forehead. “I’ll be so…. Weber, I’ll be your first.”
“And only, I suspect,” I told him. “Trust doesn’t come easy to me.”
He swallowed hard before he opened his eyes to look up into mine. “Do you have any idea how beautiful your eyes are?”
“Faded blue, like jeans, my mama used to say. They ain’t nothin’, not like yours, not brown and gold all mixed up together. Yours are somethin’ to see.”
He shook his head and then let his head fall forward against my chest.
“So now—” I chuckled. “—who’s gonna be sorry that we’re not alone?”
“I really hate you.”
“I know it.”
“Cyrus!”
We both looked up toward the front door, and Carolyn was there waving us in.
“Hurry up!” she yelled.
He grabbed hold of my hand and led me toward the house. Inside, it was enormous, made to look like a giant hunting lodge, all river rock and logs, the only thing that didn’t make sense being the skylights.
“Cyrus, honey?”
There were a lot of people all converging at once, and I was jostled away from him, and since standing there waiting for everyone to finish and talk to me, even acknowledge me, left me waiting there like an idiot, I walked out through the open sliding glass doors onto the back deck. I saw the boys then, running around with two little girls and three German shepherds, two of the black and brown variety and one that was black.
“Weber!” Pip screamed for me, leading the girls over.
The dogs saw me then and all ran at the same time. I went to my knees to greet them, and the warning barking became the joyous kind with wagging tails, wet noses jabbed into my eyes, tongues on my face, and general happy whimpering and whining. Soggy tennis balls got dropped at my feet, and I worked the dogs hard at the same time I played tag with Pip and the girls. I kept an eye on Micah and Tristan as they climbed the big oak tree, and when I thought they were high enough, told them not to go up anymore.
The girls were Vanessa and Victoria, and at five and seven they were already stunning. At sixteen and eighteen they would be breaking hearts. Raven black hair and huge pale-blue eyes, in contrast to the boys with their dark chestnut-brown hair and deep blue ones. They were all adorable, and the continuing sounds of laughter made me smile. I lost track of time and it was nice.
“Hello.”
I turned, and there was a man there a little taller than Cy’s six one but not as tall as my own six three. “Sir,” I greeted him, knowing of course who he was. There could be no mistake that this was the patriarch of the Benning clan. He was a bigger, more muscular version of the man I had never been able to get out of my head since the first day I had met him.
He came forward, hand extended, smiling at me. “Owen Benning.”
“Weber Yates,” I said, taking his hand and shaking it.
“It’s awfully nice of you to be the only one out here watching my grandchildren.”
I smiled at him as he released my hand, and Vanessa came up beside me and put her little one into mine.
“Looks like you have a friend already.”
Vanessa passed me a muddy, slobber covered tennis ball a second before one of the dogs came loping back. As I threw the ball hard, she squealed with delight.
“And who did you come with, Weber?”
I looked back at him. “With Cyrus and Carolyn, sir.”
“How is she?”
He meant his daughter, since her husband had just taken off on her and all. “I think she’s dealing with it for her boys,” I said as I watched seven-year-old Victoria grab one of the other dog’s ears and pull. “Sweetheart!”
The little girl looked over at me.
“Darlin’, don’t pull on his ears or put your face right up to his, all right?”
“Yes, Weber!” she called back.
“Excuse me, sir,” I said, still holding Vanessa’s hand as I crossed the yard to where her sister was.
Reaching her, I knelt down on one knee so she and I were closer to the same height. “I’m not scoldin’ you, you understand.”
She nodded. “No, I know. You just don’t want Rusty to bite me.”
“That’s right.” I smiled at her as she studied my face.
“Weber, Tristan said I can’t be a fireman. Is that true?”
“No, of course that’s not true. You can be whatever you please.”
“That’s what I told him.”
“Weber,” Vanessa interrupted. “Will you tell grandpa to let me ride the horsey?”
Since the man himself was suddenly right there I told her to ask for herself.
She looked scared.
He squinted down at her.
“Grandpa.” She bit her bottom lip. “Can I ride the black and white horse?”
“Well, I promised the boys that they could ride with me first.”
“But there’s two horses. Can’t Weber ride one?”
He looked at me. “Can you ride?”
“Yessir. What’ve you got, appaloosas?”
“Yes.” He smiled at me.
“Well, if you don’t mind, I’d love to ride.”
He nodded. “Let’s get all the kids rounded up.”
When I stood up, Vanessa was hanging onto my neck, and Victoria decided she was going to hold my hand, and Pip the other, as I walked over to the tree where Tristan and Micah were. Tristan wanted to ride, but Micah just shook his head.
“You ain’t stuck up there, are ya?” I stared up at him in the tree.
He shook his head.
“You sure you don’t wanna come?”
He nodded.
“All right then.”
We sent Tristan back to the house to call his mother to the backyard to watch over Micah. After a few minutes, the back deck filled with people. Mr. Benning called over to his wife, at least I thought she was his wife (he called her honey so I certainly hoped so), that he was taking the kids riding and would be back.
“And who’s that with you?” A beautiful woman asked, obviously Victoria and Vanessa’s mother—same black hair, same pale blue eyes.
“This is Weber, Cyrus’s friend.”
“Nice to meet you,” she called over to me. “I’m Rachel.”
Oh, perfect Rachel, the sister-in-law. I looked at Carolyn, and she smirked at me. It was nice that we had an inside joke already.
“My girls get attached kind of fast,” Rachel continued.
“Which is real nice, ma’am,” I told her.
Her smile was big and bright before I turned away, her youngest with a death grip around my neck, her oldest with her hand in mine.
As we walked, Mr. Benning told me about his home, the ten acres the house sat on, the stables, how close it was to running trails and riding trails, and how much he loved the Farmer’s Market on Sunday. He was making conversation, and I appreciated it.
The horses were gorgeous, the stable nicer than some of the hotels I had slept in, and Mr. Benning enjoyed watching me saddle the mare I was going to ride. The four kids listened as I talked, and after a quick game of rock-paper-scissors, I had Tristan and Vanessa with me and Mr. Benning the two youngest.
We rode back up toward the house, and everyone waved as we passed by.
“Grandpa,” Tristan called over to him. “Who’s that man standing by Uncle Cyrus?”
He cleared his throat. “That’s a friend of your Uncle Brett’s that he invited up for the weekend.”
“Oh.” Tristan nodded and then turned where he was in front of me to look up at my face. “Uncle Brett and Aunt Rachel, that’s Van and Vicky’s mom and dad, they invite their friends up sometimes to meet Uncle Cyrus.”
“I see.” I smiled at him, the man of the world at eight.
“They didn’t know you were coming along with Cy, Weber,” Mr. Benning said, which was really decent of him.
“Course not,” I said huskily.
“What is it you do, Weber?”
“I’m a ranch hand,” I told him, since that would be the next thing I would be.
“I see.”
I wondered what the blind date did but guessed it was better than out of work drifter, which was why I had thrown out employment that I didn’t have yet when I answered Cy’s father.
“Weber, how come the horse can’t go fast?”
“Because I don’t wanna lose y’all,” I told Tristan.
“Oh.” He seemed disappointed.
When we got back, I showed the kids what we had to do for the horse at the end of a ride, and they watched in rapt attention. As we were walking into the backyard, I saw Cyrus, his mother, the date, Rachel, and the man who I knew now was Brett, her husband, all standing under the tree where Micah still was. Brett was getting ready to scale the tree after his nephew.
“Are you coming down?” I called up to him once I was directly underneath.
He nodded.
“When?”
“He’s scared,” Carolyn told me.
“We’ve been trying to coax him down, get him to let go,” Cy said, putting his hand on my back, “but he just won’t.”
I grunted and noticed that Micah was starting to tremble.
“Cold, ain’t it?”
Another nod.
“Well, if you’re comin’, hurry up,” I grouched at him, holding up my arms. “Just let go. You know I’ll catch ya.”
He rolled sideways and fell from the thick branch twelve feet or so above me, and I caught him easily and set him on his feet. Kneeling down in front of him, I saw him bite his bottom lip.
“You’re sad you didn’t go ridin’ now, aren’t ya?”
He nodded.
“Next time tell me the truth if you’re stuck. You got no call to be lyin’ to me.”
He lunged at me, arms tight around my neck, and I lifted him up, holding him tight as I walked around the others and started for the house.
“Who is that, exactly?” Either Rachel or Cy’s mother asked.
“Weber!” the girls shrieked, chasing after me with Pip and Tristan bringing up the rear.
In the house, I put him in a chair at the kitchen table, quickly washed my hands, and then took the seat beside him as the rest of the kids sat around us. The moment Cyrus’s mother walked in, I asked her if we could all have something to drink.
“Of course.” She smiled at me, her big powder blue eyes glinting, crossing the room to offer me her hand and introduce herself. “Please call me Angie.”
I stood up and squeezed her hand. “Then call me Web, and it’s a pleasure, ma’am.”
“For me as well.” She smiled at me, studying my face. “That was wonderful outside.”
What was? “Ma’am?”
She sighed. “And you have no idea what you…. Oh boy.”
I waited for her to stop talking to herself.
“My grandchildren are all in love with you, as well as my dogs.”
“I do well with kids and animals.” I chuckled. “They don’t care ’bout the same things adults do.”
“But they should,” she said in a way that left no room for argument.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Sit down,” she told me. “What would you like to drink?”
I ended up with ice tea and afterward was dragged to the living room where Tristan pushed a controller into my hand and I was supposed to drive.
“You gotta hit the boxes ’cause there’s stuff in ’em.”
What?
“Weber, you hafta steer with your left hand and push the A button with your right to make the car go,” Victoria instructed me.
“Why are you driving into the wall?” Vanessa wanted to know.
Pip flopped down into my lap and tried to explain it to me again. At four he knew what he was doing better than I did.
Tristan was cackling, Micah was giggling beside him, and Victoria, who was logical and thoughtful, figured that she would show me how to work my car, demonstrating with her controller. Tristan kept making suggestions, interrupting her tutorial as I started to laugh. I gave up, told them all that Pip was driving for me, and told Vanessa, who was draped over my back, that she was strangling me. Once I stretched out, she lay down beside me.
“Hey, you guys, why don’t you let Weber come talk to the grown-ups?” Carolyn asked them.
I excused myself instead, because watching Cyrus talk to the set-up guy was bothering me more than I thought it would. It was why I had not been able to give Mario Kart my full attention. I kept glancing over at him out of the corner of my eye.
It was one thing to hook up and fuck each other’s brains out, but it was another to be at his parents’ house and pretend that I could compete in any way. In the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face, I stood staring at my face in the mirror and wondering why the man had ever even looked at me in the first place.
My eyes were plain faded denim blue; my hair that looked ginger when it was long was now a darker red cut short, with eyebrows, lashes, sideburns, and stubble all the same rusty color. I had a square jaw, a nose that had been broken many times and thin lips. Why did the man want me?
Sticking around was a mistake, but bigger than that was coming along on the weekend. Heading for the door, I heard voices in the hall.
“Jesus, Ross, I’m sorry.”
“Forget it,” a man said, chuckling. “You had no idea your brother was into guys like that.”
“Shit.”
He laughed. “It’s fine. We’ll try again when the cowboy leaves.”
“Really? You’d give this another shot?”
“Brett, are you kidding? I know you don’t get it, but unlike you, your brother is really hot, and on top of that, he’s a neurosurgeon.”
He laughed. “You’re a stockbroker. You make a fucking mint. What do you care?”
“Because dating someone who has their own money and isn’t looking for me to take care of them would be a really nice change, let me tell you.”
“But Cy was such a dick to you.”
He scoffed. “The man is a world class surgeon. I think the ice queen thing is part of it. You don’t see it because you’re family, but I bet that’s how he is with everyone he doesn’t know well.”
“I just thought, ever since I met you, that you guys would make sense together, you know? I mean you guys both live in the city, you both—”
“Give it a rest.” Ross sounded so amused. “I’m gay and your brother’s gay—that’s all you thought.”
“Well, yeah,” he admitted with a laugh.
“Listen, I’m really glad to be one of you and Rachel’s only single gay friends so I could have the chance to be invited up here to meet your brother.”
There was snickering. “I just—I didn’t even know he knew someone like Weber whoever.”
“See, it just goes to show, you never really know your own family.”
“I guess not. God. I’m surprised my folks even let him bring him in the house.”
I leaned my head against the door and listened to the two men laugh over me some more before they walked away and their voices trailed down the hall.
Waiting, I finally came out and walked back out into the living room. I took a seat down on the floor between Micah and Tristan. In seconds, Pip was in my lap.
Angie called us to dinner, and I sat on the end with the kids even though Cyrus looked over at me before Ross took the seat beside him. I talked to the kids, and when Tristan was done, he started to just stand up.
“Where are you going?”
His head snapped up to me. “I’m done.”
“Oh?”
“What?” He was irritated with me, ready to go do something else, and his tone was defiant and snide.
“Don’t say ‘what’, say ‘pardon me’.”
“Wha—pardon me?”
“Exactly right.”
He was squinting at me. “So I’m supposed say pardon me?”
“Yessir.”
He scoffed and got ready to get up again.
“I ask again, where are you going?”
“I’m done,” he barked, annoyed.
“First,” I began, leaning forward, “you thank your grandmother for the fine meal you just had, then you ask to be excused, and finally you carry your plate to the sink, because neither your grandmother nor your mother is your maid.”
He looked at me hard, and I arched an eyebrow for him.
“You’re not my father,” he whispered.
“No, sir,” I agreed, waiting on him.
The room was quiet around us.
After a minute, he took a breath. “Nana,” he said, turning to look down the long table at her.
“Yes, Tris?”
“The chicken was really good. Thank you for making it.”
“You’re very welcome,” she answered, and I heard her voice quaver.
“May I please be excused?”
“Yes, you may.”
His eyes flicked back to me, and I nodded. He got up and walked his plate to the sink.
“Nana,” Pip said, “me and Micah liked the food too. Can we go?”
“Yes, dear.” She chuckled.
He nodded and leaned into my side. “Did I do good?”
“Yessir,” I told him before turning to Angie. “Ma’am—”
“Thank you, Weber,” she smiled at me. “We haven’t had manners in this house for some time.”
“Oh yes, ma’am,” I agreed, leveling my gaze on Brett. “I am aware.”
He had the good grace to blanch as I rose and carried my plate to the sink, listening as the girls asked their grandmother to be excused behind me.
As I turned on the water to rinse the dishes, arms were wrapped around my waist and a head pressed into the middle of my back.
“I’m sorry.”
“Nothin’ to be sorry for,” I told Tristan.
“Are you mad?”
“No, sir,” I assured him. “Come help me with this.”
“Yessir,” he said, smiling up at me.
“Smartass.”
He grinned wide, his eyes lighting up.
“Weber, you don’t have to do that,” Angie called over to me.
“Yes, ma’am,” I said to acknowledge her.
I had all the kids helping when Angie joined us after a few minutes.
“Weber.”
I turned to look at her.
“I am enjoying having you here very much.”
“Thank you.” I smiled at her as Cy joined us.
“I need to speak to you right now.”
“But I’m washing the—”
“Brett and Rachel can take over,” Angie said flatly, her voice rising.
I heard the quick scrape of chairs on the wooden floor as I rinsed soap off my hands and dried them quickly before following after Cy.
He led me out onto the patio, and after I closed the door behind me, I realized he was still moving. Catching up fast, I was surprised when he rounded on me.
I crossed my arms and looked at him.
“I had no idea that man was going to be here.”
“What man?” I teased him.
It took a second, but the tension drained out of him and he smiled at me.
“Ass.”
I smiled at him.
“I didn’t, though. I would never try and make you jealous or—I don’t play games.”
“Yes, I know that.”
He stared up into my eyes. “You realize, when you’re with me, you’re the only one I see.”
“Which is real nice, Dr. Benning,” I told him, putting a hand around his throat as I bent to kiss him.
Quick whine from him as his eyes closed and his lips parted. I sank my tongue into the wet heat of his mouth, claiming, taking possession, feeling more raw and vulnerable than I thought I would.
He melted against me, arms wrapping around my neck as he gave me his weight, and I bent him back, clutching at him as I ravaged his lips. He always tasted so good, kissed me like no one ever had, like I was all there was.
It went on, and long minutes passed before he broke the kiss to gasp for breath.
“Jealous,” he heaved out the word.
“Pardon?” I growled at him, leaning my forehead against his, our noses side by side, touching, bumping.
“Even though I had nothing to do with it, you’re jealous of what’s his name.”
“Ross,” I provided.
“Yeah.”
“He’s a stockbroker.”
“Uh-huh,” he agreed, his thumb sliding over my bottom lip, his groin grazing my thigh.
“Well, I’m not.”
“You’re not what?”
“A stockbroker. Pay attention.”
He huffed out a breath “No, you’re not.”
“We both know you can do better’n me.”
“We believe two completely different truths,” he assured me, hand on the nape of my neck, stroking, the other now clutching at my shirt.
“I—” What was I going to say?
“You?” He prodded.
“Even when I’m gone—that guy doesn’t deserve you.”
“Say what you mean.”
I cleared my throat. “Don’t ever kiss him.”
“Or?”
“Or fuck him or do anything with him at all.”
He licked his lips. “Okay, cowboy, it’s a promise.”
I walked him back into the wall, and when I pinned him against it, the moan he released made me smile down into his eyes.
“It’s nice that you’re making demands,” he told me.
At which point I realized how ridiculous I was being. “Shit. I—”
“No—” His voice hardened. “—you can’t take it back.”
“But I have no right to say anything to you at all.”
His hands lifted to my face, and he eased me down to him. “I say what you do and don’t have, cowboy.”
I didn’t want to argue with him, so I kissed him instead.
IT WAS nice to sit and listen to everyone talk. Even listening to Ross chime in, as he was funny and engaging, was okay. I sat between Carolyn and Cy on the couch, had a cup of tea, enjoyed the sound of the rain pounding on the roof and the glass, and reveled in being inside, warm and clean and safe. I watched the dogs lying beside the crackling fireplace and decided that someday I would have the same thing. Smaller and probably just one dog, but the same warm family home. It was my dream.
“You’re smiling,” Angie said out of the blue, which brought the conversation to a halt as she zeroed in on me.
“Yes, ma’am.” I sighed, so comfortable with Cy leaning on me, his thigh and knee pressed to mine.
“Why?”
“It’s just nice to be inside on a rainy night, makes you thankful.”
Her breath quavered. “Yes, it does.”
“Where is your family, Weber?” Mr. Benning asked me.
“I don’t have any family to speak of, sir.”
“Oh?”
I shook my head.
Cy cleared his throat. “Weber’s mother passed away when he was fourteen, and his father, who was a roughneck on an oil rig, was killed in an accident a year later.”
Angie’s eyebrows furrowed as she looked at her son. It was nice to see her worry for me.
“Weber and his older brother Spencer were alone after that, and so Spencer, who was seventeen at the time, looked after Web.”
“And where is Spencer now?” Mr. Benning asked his son instead of me.
He cleared his throat. “Spencer was killed in Iraq when he was twenty.”
The room was silent until Angie coughed softly.
“You must have things of your mother’s and your father’s and your brother’s kept somewhere, don’t you, Weber?”
“Oh yes, ma’am,” I smiled at her. “I have a storage space in Abilene that I used my brother’s life insurance money from the army to pay for. It gets paid automatic every month and will for another ten years or so. But at least I know it’s all safe.”
She nodded. “And if, heaven forbid, anything should happen to—”
“I have the address,” Cy told her, “and the spare key.”
“Your son is my emergency contact in my wallet.” I smiled at her. “If I get trampled or shot or gored or—”
“Stop,” he cut me off. “She gets it.”
She nodded fast.
“Well, if I die, someone’ll call Cy, and he can dispose of things as he sees fit.”
“And your profession is that of a ranch hand? Is that correct?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“What did you do before that?”
“Rodeo. I was a bull rider.”
“Which accounts for the injuries.”
How did she know I’d been injured? “Ma’am?”
“Cyrus told us earlier that you had been hurt not too long ago, but he didn’t say how. Bull riding must be very dangerous.”
I shrugged.
“You don’t think so?”
“It’s takes a toll, but so does workin’ a ranch or bein’ out on the road.”
“And you’ve been on the road a long time, haven’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am, I have.”
Her lips were pressed together tight as she stood up. “Okay. I’m going to bed.”
I didn’t expect her to walk around the coffee table, bend down, put a hand on my cheek, and kiss me on the other. She bolted from the room right after that.
“Me too,” Rachel echoed her mother-in-law, darting over to me, leaning over to kiss my forehead before she too nearly ran from the room.
Fuck.
“Good night, everyone.” Mr. Benning smiled, and then he too walked by me, patted my shoulder, squeezed it, and followed after his wife up to bed.
I couldn’t stifle my groan.
“What?” Cy asked me
“They all think I’m some sad sack now. For Pete’s sake Cy, why’d you have to go and tell ’em that I’m a damn orphan and get all maudlin on me?”
“I—”
Carolyn caught her breath and then leaned over and hugged me tight.
“Oh for crissakes.” I groaned louder the second time, and Cy chuckled softly.
After a minute, I ordered Carolyn to get the hell off me, and I went to take a shower. Cy and I had a small room at the end of the hall on the second floor, and we had to share a bathroom with others. When I was on my way back to our room, sleep shorts hanging off my hips, hair sticking straight up, too hot to put on my T-shirt yet, I heard someone call me. Turning, I found Ross.
I tipped my head and squinted, sizing him up. Usually, I didn’t make snap judgments about people. I took my time deciding if I liked them or not. But Ross was different. I hated him. And I wasn’t stupid; I knew why. He easily deserved the man I was crazy about, and I did not, plus he looked like a damn fashion model. He and Cy fit. Me and Cy were a train wreck that continually happened.
“You heard me and Brett talking earlier, didn’t you?”
I nodded.
He took a breath. “I’m sorry. That was rude. I mean, I won’t lie and say that when you’re gone that I’m not going to ask him out, but for now…. I’m leaving in the morning. I can’t compete with the whole orphaned cowboy bullshit.”
I moved to walk around him.
“It’s crap, though.”
I stopped and looked back at him.
“You don’t leave a man that looks like that or works that job or has the financial portfolio he has alone. You just don’t. You keep thinking that you can ride off and he’ll just be here when you get back each time, and that’s idiotic. You should not even have a choice. A man like you, lacking in prospects and everything else, where do you get off even being here or—”
“Oh.”
We both looked to the end of the hall where the gasp had come from, and there was Cy, standing in the bedroom doorway, wrapped in a big fluffy brown robe, hair tousled, smiling, his bare feet poking out from under the flannel pajama bottoms.
“Hi.” I heard Ross exhale.
Cy forced a smile, and then his eyes flicked over to me. “Web?”
Dear God.
Really, you would have had to be blind to miss the open joy on the man’s face or the carnal heat in his eyes. Without thinking, he licked his lips, clenched his jaw, and took a deep steadying breath. No doubt about it, the man liked me just a little bit.
“Are you coming to bed?”
“Right now,” I assured him, striding down the hall fast, brushing against his robe on my way into the room and hearing him call out a goodnight to Ross before he closed and locked the door behind me. I turned to face him. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Wantin’ me instead of the guy who’s better for you.”
He shook his head.
“It’s true,” I said, rushing him, hands on his face, tipping it up, smashing my mouth down over his, kissing him deep but slowly, gently, not hard, finally alone with him and loving it.
“Oh God, Weber, you’re the only one who’s good for me.”
We didn’t fall on the bed; we sort of sank down into it, collapsed, and continued making love with our mouths. And I wanted to attack him or have him ravage me, but I just could not for the life of me stop kissing him.
First I was on top and he was under me, and then he pushed up and I was rolled fast to my back. He started plundering my mouth, and the pace changed, got frantic, as he bit me and I sucked on his tongue. His moan was so sexy, and I was so hard and just certain, down to the depths of my soul certain, that if I didn’t get my hands on his bare skin that I was going to die.
“God, I fuckin’ hate you,” he whispered, the words hot on my face.
I put him flat on his back and found myself staring down into turbulent brown eyes. “Cy?”
“You belong to me, you stupid sonofabitch!”
I sighed deeply. “Cy, we’ve been over—”
“What is so wrong with letting me stake you in a business?”
“Doing what?”
“I don’t know, whatever you—I could sponsor you and you could—”
“No sir,” I said, rolling sideways onto my back, staring up at the ceiling. “My body can’t rodeo no more. I may be stupid, but I ain’t suicidal. I’ll find a ranch where I can—”
“I don’t want you on a ranch somewhere in Texas! I want you right here!”
I turned over, moving further away from him, and went face down into the pillow. Fighting was not what I wanted to do. This was what had happened the last time, and I remembered his ultimatum, how angry he’d been, trembling with rage, furious at himself and his tears, livid that I had any power over him at all.
“This was a mistake,” I muttered, moving the pillow as I rolled my head sideways. “I’m so sorry, Cy. Just when the damn thing was healin’, I show up and tear off the bandage and make it start to bleed all over again.”
He was silent, and I cursed myself for saying anything.
“Weber,” he growled my name, surprising me with his body on mine, pinning me under him to the bed. “Did you ever think that the only thing you’re supposed to do is just love me?”
I went still and silent, because wanting me around was one thing, love was a whole other undertaking. We had never, ever spoken about or brought up the concept, much less the word.
Jesus.
“Oh, he’s scared now.”
I shifted under him. “Get up.”
“And if I say no?” he asked me, hand in my hair, tipping my head sideways, his lips on the curve that connected neck to shoulder, kissing, his other hand running down my flank.
I shivered, feeling my response roll through my body. He felt so good, and the emotion surging through me was even more acute because I knew him, trusted him, and didn’t have to guess how he felt. And it was stupid to deny what we both knew, that it wasn’t just sex between us or friendship, but what the hell was I supposed to do in his world? What was I even supposed to do in a city? I didn’t know how to do anything but break horses and ride bulls and saddle and ride and… day labor? I would have the world class brain surgeon do what with me?
“Fuck!” I ground out, “Get off me!”
“So you can do what?” he whispered into my ear. “Run away?”
I got my palms flat on the bed, ready to push up, but his mouth closed over the back of my shoulder and he bit down hard.
God, I loved to have him put marks on me.
Bruises, teeth imprints, the rash from the stubble on his face, scratches: I loved it all and only ever allowed Cyrus to leave evidence on my skin, on my body.
The moan that tore out of me sent him into a frenzy of motion. Kissing, licking, nibbling, hands pulling, yanking, and when his mouth closed on my right ass cheek, I bucked forward into the mattress.
“You don’t get it yet, but you will,” he said, his breath catching as I felt the hard length of him slide over my crease.
In the manic fumbling, I had not felt him pull off my sleep shorts, but when he moved, lifting off me, I felt how naked I was and exposed.
“Web,” he growled low, hands on my hips. “Please let me have you. I will take such good care of you.”
I had never thought that I would want to submit to another man. To be me, I figured, I would always need to top. Lately though, the idea of him being inside me had filled my thoughts as I jerked off at night.
“Web,” he murmured, and I felt his hands kneading my ass, spreading my cheeks.
My cock was already hard, and as I ground down into the mattress, I felt his warm breath ghost over my skin.
“You’re all flushed,” he rasped, and I could tell that looking at me, seeing my reaction, was turning him on.
My breathing was shallow; I could hear it.
“Cy.”
“Yes, baby,” he said, and I felt the first swipe of his slick tongue over my puckered hole.
I jolted under him as I heard him flip open the cap of the lube at the same time.
“I’ll trust you if you trust me.”
“What does that mean?”
“You fuck me without a rubber.”
“What?” He was shocked, and even though I couldn’t see him, I knew his eyes had to be huge and round.
“You heard. If you’re gonna come in my ass, I wanna feel it. I wanna be drippin’ with you.”
“Oh fuck, Weber,” he groaned. “I can’t do—”
“You’re a doctor. I know you have safe sex, and we’ve never done it together without one, and I ain’t never done it with nobody else without one.”
“Yes, but—”
“Oh,” I said sadly, realizing that he didn’t want to. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pressure you into doing—”
“You’re such an idiot!”
Not the response I had been expecting.
“Weber Yates, turn around.”
I looked over my shoulder at him at the same time he slid two fingers deep inside of me. “Oh God,” I gasped, loving the burn, loving the stretch, the roughness of it, and the look in his eyes when he did it. He wanted me so badly.
“You say things like that and offer me your virgin asshole with nothing between us at the same time you’re making plans to leave me in two weeks. Is there anyone on the planet as stupid as you?”
I was really trying to make sense of what he was saying, and I heard the words, but dear God in heaven, his fingers were… were… his fingers….
“Are you listening to me?”
I pushed back as he turned his hand and curled his middle finger forward and dragged it across my gland. “Oh fuck,” I groaned, and it was guttural and gravelly, and I felt my body erupt in goose bumps as I flushed with a chill.
“I have a test done every six months, so I know there’s nothing wrong with me.”
“I had to have one done four months ago for a dude ranch I was working on, and it all came back negative.”
“Because you’ve always used a condom, as you said.”
“Yes, Cy, I swear,” I moaned because he’d added a third finger to my ass.
“Feel good?”
“Oh fuck yeah,” I whispered as he pushed and shoved his fingers into me, stroking deep. I was suddenly having trouble breathing.
There was more lube. I felt the chill of it and the slide, and then he reached under me for my throbbing, leaking cock. His fingers tugging, fondling, twisting, pushing gently at the slit, rubbing the pulsing head, made me buck under him.
“I wish you could see yourself trust me, open for me… Weber… this is so honest, your need right now… you’re breaking my heart.”
“Fuck me,” I begged him. “Please, God, just do it.”
“I’ve never barebacked with anyone,” he told me. “But if you swear that it’s only me, ever, without a condom, I’m going to believe you, because you’re an honorable man.”
Three years between us, three years of trust that had been built on.
“In this respect, I am,” I promised him. “It will only ever be you, I swear.”
“You’re making a vow here, Web,” he said, easing his fingers from my stretched, lube-slicked, fluttering hole.
I needed him. I craved the feeling of fullness, the line between pleasure and pain, the overwhelming desire to be taken and used.
“You don’t know what you’ve done yet,” he assured me, shoving me face down into the comforter, lifting my ass high with his other hand, grabbing my hip, the hold almost painful. “But you will, you so will.”
I fisted my hands in the material as I felt his mouth on the small of my back.
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes.” I trembled under him.
“Only me?” he asked gently.
I nodded.
“Say it!” he snarled, and the power of his demand slammed through me.
“Just you,” I barely managed to get out, grabbing hold of my heavy, dripping cock, stroking myself.
“You trust me not to hurt you, never to hurt you.”
“Yes,” I said huskily, my voice going in and out on me.
“Remember that,” he ordered me, and I felt his hands on my cheeks, spreading me fast, roughly, even as the head of his cock pressed against my furled entrance.
The thought of what he was about to do had consumed me since the last time I had seen him. We had been so close that time. I had been on the verge of begging him for it right before I left. But he had been so angry, so possessive and frustrated, that at the end I was afraid that if I asked him he would think it was more than it was and I would regret that.
But now, he was claiming me, taking what he wanted, and I didn’t care, couldn’t be made to. It felt right, and I had no idea why.
“This will change everything,” he said, and because of that, because of his very last word, I should have said wait. I should have said no, but all that passed my lips was “please.”
Please.
And then as he pressed inside of me, “Oh God, Cyrus, please!”
But it changed so fast, and I wanted to take it back, scream at him to stop, because it started to hurt, and the pain built and burned and stung. I was full, so full, and stretched, and it was just too much. The second that I thought to yell, though, my body stopped fighting the invasion and embraced it. He pulled back a fraction, tilted his angle, and rammed in deep and hard and fast.
Until that moment, I had no idea that all my yearning, all the pressure and pain and everything else just needed Cy, inside of me, to finally be released. Knowing that I wasn’t in control, that it was all him, freed me like nothing ever had. The surrender was absolute, overwhelming, devouring bliss.
“Cy!” I gasped, lost in the undertow.
He lifted my hand to my dick, reminding me of what I should have been doing, and I took direction, squeezing and tugging, the two sensations at once all there was.
“You’re so tight, so hot. You need to come, baby, because feeling you, looking at you, I’m not…. Oh God, please, Weber.”
The last was spoken so softly, so gently, so full of tenderness but also wanting, that my body was flushed in heat.
“You’re so mine,” he chanted, and I felt him swell inside of my slick, clenching channel, felt his hand on the small of my back pushing me down, holding me still, the other clutching my hip as he thrust into me, over and over, relentless and hammering as I writhed under him. “Web!”
My body tightened, balls, muscles, everything squeezed at once, and I spurted onto the comforter, shuddering with my roaring climax as Cy fucked me through it. When he collapsed on top of me, twitching with the last of his own orgasm, I was finally able to breathe. Even his added weight was of no consideration.
Never in my life had I been filled with cum, felt it hot and slick inside of me as well as sliding down my thighs in sticky, slippery rivulets. It felt like being branded, and the smell of it, of sex and sweat mixed together, was intoxicating.
The urge to get up and run away was as powerful as the one to roll over and pull the man down into my arms.
I was terrified and sated and sore and joyful. What the hell?
He eased out of me slowly, carefully, and was gone seconds later. I heard the door open and close, and I was left alone in the room that was rapidly cooling. I couldn’t get my muscles to unclench enough to lie down, and I didn’t want to drop onto splattered semen, so I just stayed there, frozen, until I had feeling in my thighs again.
The door opened—I heard it, felt the blast of cool air—and then he was there, chuckling, crooning at the same time.
“Good, you didn’t move. You knew I’d be right back.”
“I can’t move. My muscles are locked, here.”
“That’s because your whole body tightened all at once.” He sighed, kissing my back, between my shoulder blades, the base of my spine. “You felt so good. Jesus, Weber, you were amazing.”
I grunted as his hands, as warm as the washcloth, slid over my sensitized skin.
“You were,” he told me, his touch reverent, gentle, tender as he cleaned my ass and the inside of my quivering thighs.
I moved then, crawled forward and collapsed down onto the pillow as I heard him rubbing at the comforter.
“Sorry.”
“That’s what a washing machine is for.” He chuckled. “I’ll take care of it first thing in the morning. My mother will never be the wiser.”
“I couldn’t help it.”
“And I wouldn’t change any part of what we just did, so get over it.”
I groaned. “I had no idea you could fuck like that. Why didn’t you ever—”
“No,” he cut me off, falling onto the bed beside me, abandoning his clean-up to curl around me fast. “That was so not fucking in any way, and don’t even try and play it off like it was.”
I rolled away from him, unable to meet his gaze.
He crawled over me, flopped down hard so we were face to face again, and reached out and put a hand on my cheek. “I just made love to you, Weber Yates, and do you know why?”
I winced as he started to laugh at me.
“Because I love you.” He exhaled deeply, and I saw his eyes go, saw them soften, fill but not spill over, and they were gorgeous and wet and the man was just altogether breathtaking.
“Goddammit, why you wanna go and—”
“Shut up,” he ordered, and his smile was luminous as it came, finally, through tears.
“Cy….”
“Just say it,” he pressed, his breath choppy as he stared into my eyes.
“Why? It won’t change nothin’?”
“I think it will, and I need to hear it already.”
I opened my mouth to protest.
“I love you, Weber Yates, so much, so completely. I—”
“Jesus Christ, Cy! You know I love you,” I snapped at him irritably. “That’s not the problem! It’s never been the problem! We just—”
“Oh,” he gasped and cut me off with a kiss, arms wrapping around my neck, left leg sliding over my thigh, chests plastered together, and his lips sliding, fitting perfectly like they always had. It was seamless the way his mouth and body molded to mine, effortless.
I broke away from him, ending the kiss, but he held on, keeping me there, holding me so our lips hovered close. “You ain’t listenin’ to me.”
“No, you’re not listening to yourself.” He smiled wide. “As usual. You’re really such an ass.”
“Cy—”
“Did I hurt you?”
“What?” I was confused.
“When I was inside of you, did I hurt you?”
“No you didn’t hurt me! What the hell kind of ques—”
“Because I have to tell you that I can’t wait to do that again.” He shivered. “Watching my cock slide into your beautiful—”
“Oh God, can we not talk about this, please?”
“Seeing you dripping with me was like—”
“I will seriously end you,” I growled at him even as he wriggled closer, the arms around my neck tightening as he whimpered in the back of his throat. “Did you hear me?”
“Yes, baby,” he said, eyes on my mouth, all semblance of concentration gone. “I heard you. I heard you begging and whining and—”
I kissed him to shut him up, and he met me eagerly with an open mouth, his tongue tangling with mine as he rolled over on top of me and pinned me under him to the bed.
“You’ve never been so aggressive before,” I told him, panting, when he let me breathe.
“I never knew you belonged to me before.”
And I would have argued, but the way he was kissing me, the feel of his hands, the heat of his skin… all I wanted to do was just surrender.
So for once I did.