Chapter Seven
Between the burning in Anya’s eyes and the bright stars overhead, Wydell felt drunk. He skimmed his hands over her bare spine down to cup her round backside. Such a sweet little morsel, but she was so much more.
While at war, he’d lived in denial of his feelings. Friends came and went from his life, like Matt or many others who were injured or killed. When Wydell had come home only to find more destruction and loss, he’d hammered long spikes into the escape hatch of his heart to cover his emotions.
But Anya had tugged those nails free, and now the door was flapping.
He kissed her with slow, deliberate tenderness. Running his tongue over her upper lip and then biting her lower one. She moaned and shimmied beneath his touch. Especially when he curled his fingers around the underside of her ass cheeks, a fraction away from her soaking pussy.
God, she was on fire for him. Her skin felt several degrees hotter than usual and her aroused scents drove him insane. Their clothing lay strewn across the bed of his truck, and he gathered it into a pile before rolling her into it so the cold steel didn’t touch her skin.
She stared up at him, and his throat worked around a lump. “You’re fucking gorgeous,” he managed to say.
Her light touch against his jaw spoke of more tenderness than he’d ever been shown in a lifetime. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
Their mouths collided, lips tangling in a dance as old as the heavens around them. He nudged her thighs apart with his knee and lodged himself at her center. Holding her gaze, he pushed into her.
Her breath left on a sigh.
Inch by swollen inch he filled her until he was seated fully in her body. Need made his balls spasm, and he fought to hold onto the reins of his control. Everything in his being spurred him to take what was his—and for them both to scream in pleasure. But he wanted to drag this out. He wanted this to last forever.
She lifted her legs and wrapped them around his hips. His cock bottomed out, and they shared a groan.
“Take me. Don’t be gentle.”
“A woman like you deserves gentle.”
“I’m not a wilting flower. I want it. I want you.” Her voice snagged on his resolve and he lost his precious hold. He withdrew, sliding his cock through her wet folds, and slammed back home.
Her eyelids fluttered, and she gripped his shoulders tighter. “More.”
“Fuck, sweetheart. You’re not gonna let me go slow, are you?”
“Not this time. Maybe the seventh or eighth.”
“By then you’ll be unconscious.”
She cracked a smile that made his heart patter out of rhythm. “You’re so arrogant.”
“It’s not arrogance if it’s true.” He fucked her harder, leaning into her lips and stealing a kiss. She crooned in pleasure and dragged him closer until every inch of their bodies touched.
“Wydell,” she cried out as he pressed his thumb right where she needed it. Her flesh seemed to swell more beneath his touch. Watching her face, he took her deep and fast, brushing his thumb over her clit. Back and forth, back and forth, until his fingers were soaked and her scream echoed into the night sky.
The peeper frogs silenced momentarily, which was good because he only wanted to hear Anya. She shook in his hold, and he continued to drive her to the pinnacle of ecstasy. When she twitched, too sensitive for his touch, he eased the pressure on her clit. Using the pad of his fingertip, he stroked her, as lightly as an artist would paint a dainty flower petal on canvas.
More come flooded his cock. God, feeling her wrapped around him with no barriers like this was stealing his mind. His control was long gone.
Lifting her ass in his hands, he tugged her into his every hip thrust. Her skin glowed blue and silver. Her breasts bounced, and her stomach sucked in.
“I’m going to fill you so full of my come, it will be running down your legs.”
Her eyes hooded at his words. Reaching up, she twisted her nipples, ripping a growl from him. The pressure in his balls spread like wildfire through his body. When he felt her clench around him, he answered with a shudder.
“Give it to me, babe,” she breathed. “All of you and more.”
With a forceful shove, his shaft lengthened. Five strokes, six. He threw his head back as his balls released and come jetted into her. She gasped at the first warm spurt. Seconds later she was coming around him as well, riding him into oblivion.
When his thundering pulse quieted in his ears, he lifted his head and met her eyes. “I’m not done with you.” His grunts sounded primitive even to his ears. He grinned and rolled off, tugging her into his arms.
She pressed her cheek to his chest and inhaled deeply. “I’ve never made out in the back of a truck.”
“Sweetheart, that wasn’t first base. That was a home run.”
“Mmm, right into the bleachers.” Time passed in comfortable silence while Wydell listened to her soft breathing and the night life around them.
She’d been upset earlier, but she still hadn’t confided why. After some thought, he’d considered letting it go. He didn’t need to know every scrap of information about her life.
But he wanted to.
Gliding a hand over her arm, he smiled when her skin pebbled. “What had you upset earlier? I got the feeling it wasn’t about me or the town. Maybe some trouble at home?”
She stiffened. Pulled away a little, but he hauled her right back, slinging his thigh over hers and anchoring her in place. She wasn’t going to get away from him, not after the intimacy they’d just shared. He deserved to hear what was eating at her. She’d asked about his demons, after all. What had caused that little crease between her brows?
“Sweetheart, you can tell me.”
She shifted as though her skin were too tight. Damn, he knew that feeling well. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Why not? We’ll only get closer by telling each other these things. Besides, I told you about what I’m going through.”
He tuned in to the rush of her breath across his chest. When she finally said, “I don’t want to give you more ammunition against me.”
It was his turn to tense. “What?” Did he hear her correctly? She believed he’d take her words and turn them against her? Did she really think so little of him?
“It’s just that…what happened sounds an awful lot like the way you think of me.”
His throat seemed filled with shards of glass. “Hey. The way I think of you isn’t what you think. Sweetheart—”
“I’m not going to tell you, Wydell.” She sat up and scooted against the side of the truck, shivering as soon as her skin touched the cold metal.
“Anya.” His tone came out as a warning. Too late he realized he should have eased down.
She sliced the air with an agitated hand. “Don’t even start on me. I don’t know why we keep falling into this routine.”
“What routine?” He tensed his jaw.
“Sex and fighting. Sex and fighting. We aren’t going to stop fighting, so we should stop having sex.”
“This is more than sex, goddammit, and you know it.”
At that, she arched a brow. “Yes, it is. We can’t stay away from each other because hormones drive us, and we both need to get our heads on straight. At least until we figure out what this relationship really is. I think I have a fix, though.”
“What’s that?”
“I stay on my side of town while you finish your job on the houses. At least until we figure things out.”
“Like hell.” He reached for her, filling his hands with plump curves he couldn’t get enough of.
She bit back a smile even as she slapped at him. He felt her humming with arousal. When he tugged her into his arms, she moved onto her knees, giving him a glance at her inner thighs, shiny with his seed. Fuck no, she wasn’t walking away from this. From him. She belonged right here.
“Wait, Wydell. Didn’t you hear what I said about needing distance to think things over? This isn’t what either of us needs.” Even as she spoke, her head tipped forward and he swore her lips brushed his shoulder. With a noise of frustration, he slid his fingers between her legs. Over her wet pussy lips, burrowing into her channel.
She cried out and spread her legs, her chest heaving as she allowed him to finger her pussy. He thrust his two fingers deep while stroking his thumb over her clit again. Back and forth. Giving her the ease she needed.
“Please, Wydell.”
“Please don’t stop?”
“Yes…no. We’re no good together right now.”
“We’re no good apart, either. Let me make you come, Anya.”
“I can’t think when you…” Her breath hitched as he ground her core into her body. She pushed closer to him, cupping her breasts and angling her nipple toward his lips. Feeding it to him.
With a guttural noise, he sucked her ripe bud into his mouth. Sucking gently as he brought her to a pinnacle. She ground against his fingers.
“Let go, sweetheart. Give yourself up to me.”
“Never.” She scored his shoulders with her nails. The pleasure-pain ripped a roar from him that echoed across his family lands. Passion lifted in him, so heady that he could barely think of anything in the universe besides this woman and his mission to make her come.
He fucked her shallow, and she rocked her hips forward for more. He fucked her deep and she shuddered. Tightened. The heat of her pussy enveloped his fingers, his hand, his arm. He latched onto her nipple with renewed vigor.
“You hate me. And I hate you.” Her words held no heat, only a burning longing.
“I don’t hate you. And you definitely don’t hate me.” Curling his fingers so the tips bumped the slightly rough interior wall of her pussy, he watched her face shiver with ecstasy.
Then she was coming, giving him exactly what he demanded of her. All of her. Every single pulsation belonged to him. Each cry that escaped her lips. When her final contraction faded, he laid her back down on the pile of clothes, spread her legs and took more from her, cleaning her pussy and inner thighs until he was rock-hard once more.
“Stop, Wydell.” Her legs shook as he captured her clit between his lips again.
“Not until you take back what you said. You don’t hate me and this isn’t only lust.”
“It’s hate fucking.”
He bit her thigh as if she were a juicy apple. She cried out, clamping her fingers in his hair. When he bathed the hurt with his tongue, a stuttering sigh left her. Then he nuzzled up her leg to her apex again. Aware of her need and wanting nothing more in the world than to make her cry out his name.
“It’s not hate fucking.”
“It’s not love,” she protested weakly, lifting her hips until her clit bumped his tongue.
“Mmm. It could be, if you stop fighting me—and yourself.”
She went dead still. Uh oh, he couldn’t have her thinking too hard. He wanted her screaming, coming apart for him.
Plunging his fingers into her pussy and one deep into her ass, he worked to pull more noises from her. With luck, total surrender would follow. Because he was gunning for her—he wanted her more than he’d wanted anything in a very long time.
Anya dug her heels into the bed of the truck and tried to hold together the fragments of her brain. Wydell was stealing it bit by bit, along with the wrappings around her heart. He held the end and was slowly unraveling it like a badly knit Christmas sweater. When he had her totally exposed, she didn’t want to think about the words that would come out of her mouth.
He was right—it wasn’t hate sex. She was falling in love with him. But knowing that didn’t make things any easier.
His finger in her backside drove her mad. She’d never had anal play before, but she couldn’t deny that his surprise invasion had thrilled her to the core. Her insides felt like lava, and the first burning pleasure began in that brand new place.
“Come for me. I’m going to give you a double orgasm.”
She had little doubt in her mind. Actually, did she have a single thought in her mind at this point? He withdrew. She gasped as he shoved three fingers deep—two in her pussy and one in her ass. What would it be like for him to take her back there? He was big—it would be uncomfortable at first. But she knew he’d take it slow until she gained as much pleasure from the act as he would.
Wait—what was she thinking? She was trying to put a stop to this insanity. This was absolutely the last time she let him touch her. Right after she got off…
No, then she’d want to straddle him and make him feel as good as he made her feel, and the rollercoaster would start all over again.
His intense expression made her stomach hollow out. “Come on, sweetheart. This is all mine—you belong to me.”
“Nobody…owns me,” she panted, though he did. Every nerve ending in her body screamed his name. Hell, they probably had his name tattooed across them, along with little hearts.
“This isn’t hate fucking. You want me, you want this over and over. Let your feelings out. Tell me you’re mine”
In the back of her mind, his chant didn’t make sense. But she wasn’t listening with her head—but her heart.
“Yours. Take me, Wydell.”
His groan of approval rumbled through her entire body. On the withdrawal, he stamped her lips with his—hard. When he drove his fingers back into her, he added a second to her backside. Stretching her.
The orgasm hit from nowhere. She came too hard to even make a noise, panting at first but as he continued finger-fucking her, noisy moans escaped.
“So fucking beautiful when you come. Fuck, your ass is still pulsating around my fingers. Are you still coming?”
She writhed in his hold, speared on his fingers. Her muscles leaped and she couldn’t catch her breath.
She did, however, find her voice. “Yours. Yours.”
“Damn straight.” He stroked her pussy and ass more slowly until the final twitches flowed away. Then he gently removed his fingers.
She blinked at him, stars in her heart. They sparkled for him. Dammit, that was no good. Or was it?
“You didn’t let me finish my argument,” she said quietly.
He nuzzled her throat, his hard cock jabbing into her thigh. “No, because it’s all a lie. You’re lying to yourself.”
“Oh now I’m a liar.”
“You do love to argue, sweetheart, but I’m not falling into that trap. You agreed that you belong to me, and right now, I am demanding my rights over your body.” With a gleam in his eyes, he stretched on his back, lifted her and settled her swollen pussy over his cock.
Throwing her head back, she stared at the stars and tried to make sense of the emotions swirling through her body like the Milky Way through the galaxy. He wasn’t playing fair, but two could play this game. She could sap the strength from him the way he had her.
With a slow, grinding motion, she dragged a groan from him. And another. Riding faster, stealing his soul too. “If I’m yours, then you’re mine.”
His eyes darkened, or was that her imagination?
She pushed up the length of his shaft until his mushroomed head stretched her opening before lowering herself in one quick shove. He roared.
“Say it, babe,” she urged, teasing him with light kisses over his lips and jaw. “You’re mine.”
“You had me when I first saw you, dammit.” As if he couldn’t bear to give her more rope in this tug of war, he flipped her. Bent her over the side and hammered her from behind until they were both screaming in release.
Somewhere in the distance, birds took flight. Anya stared into the darkness, over Wydell’s family lands, aware that she was in big trouble.
* * * * *
Wydell stole a glance at Anya as she tugged her top back into place. The morning sun was just rising over the lip of the horizon. This view was one he’d seen every morning of his childhood. Looking out his bedroom window and seeing this vision had been something he’d taken for granted.
Now that he wanted to share it with a fabulous woman, he couldn’t find a way to tell her.
She put on her boots and zipped her jeans before walking to the passenger door of his truck.
He stared at her for a minute, his shirt in his hands. Something was eating at her. She’d gone quiet again. Was this how she felt when he shut down? Dammit, he’d have to try harder.
“Anya.”
A cold look had taken over her blue eyes.
Regret, pure and simple.
His chest burned. Not bothering with his shirt, he got behind the wheel. As soon as he started the engine, she cut the silence. “This was dumb. We’re nothing alike.”
He pushed out a sigh. If she didn’t want to open up to him, he couldn’t force her. “You’re right.” Though the opposite was true—they were very much alike, which was probably why they argued so often.
“Good—I’m glad we agree on that much. I think we need to try to stay away from each other until we figure things out. I’ll help at the Kents’ while you work on the tiny homes.”
“That’s a plan.” Why did his heart feel as if he’d just taken a hit from a mortar? He bumped across the field toward the main road leading into town—back to her Airstream. She remained silent during the ride while his mind whirled at eighty miles an hour.
“We fight too much to be good for each other,” she said out of the blue. Obviously she was worrying over the bone of their personality clash too.
“You’re absolutely right.”
“I’m glad you agree. Drop me here.” She waved toward the side of the road. About half a mile away her silver Twinkie glinted in the morning rays.
“You sure? I can drive you up to the door.”
“No, I need to walk a little. Thanks.” She climbed out of his truck without a backward glance. As he watched her walk away a little stiffly, he couldn’t help but take pride in the mark of their night on her.
Dammit, what had just happened? They’d shared the most amazing sex of his life and she’d walked away? And he’d let her go?
For a moment he considered cutting the engine, getting out and going after her. But she held her head so erect that he knew she’d only give him a tongue-lashing for chasing her.
Feeling more despondent than any man should after having a little vixen in his arms all night, he turned the truck around and headed for the Bells’ place. Once there, he didn’t bother going inside but did a few chores around the ranch before having a quick, cold wash in the outdoor sink.
No matter how hard he tried, though, he couldn’t erase Anya’s scent. She was ingrained in his pores.
Damn if he didn’t like it. But he had a sinking feeling that when he was with her he had no self-control, and there was no way that looked good on him. For once, he should try to be a gentleman, take it slow.
By the time he was on site of the tiny home, he decided he’d made the right choice in bucking her know-it-all instructions and building the addition on the place. The home looked so much better, and as far as he was concerned, was much more desirable to a buyer.
He took up his hammer and set to work. When Garrett joined him, he let out a low whistle.
“What is this?” he asked.
“Change of plans.” Just like everything else. Last night he and Anya had agreed they were good for each other—today not at all. He pushed a breath through his nose.
Garrett scratched his unshaven jaw. “Anya signed off on this?”
“Does it matter? It’s built now and needs to be roofed. Grab that bundle of shingles and the ladder.”
A few minutes later they were working in a rhythm together. Even though the addition was much larger than the original home, it didn’t take a lot of time before they had the place weatherproofed.
Wydell looked toward the Airstream and sucked in a harsh breath. She’d moved it farther down the road, to the other side of the Kents’ place. From this distance, he couldn’t see Anya if she came outside. A weight crushed his chest.
“What’s that all about?” Garrett asked, following his stare.
“Guess she wanted a change of scenery. I wouldn’t know.”
“It has nothing to do with you two being parked in your field last night?”
He looked up sharply. “How do you know?”
“I wander when I have trouble sleeping. I heard… I mean I walked that direction and spotted your truck.”
Wydell grunted. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”
“I figured. You probably don’t want to discuss how difficult this is going to make working conditions either.” Garrett’s look was too piercing, but Wydell noted the strains of fatigue and stress around his friend’s eyes. The man hadn’t escaped the evil pull of post-war fatigue either. He just handled it differently. They all did. Brodie buried himself in work and now in Danica and the coming baby. Boyd had disappeared.
He pressed his lips into his teeth and spent two solid minutes beating an ill-fitting window frame into submission. Finally he said, “Anya and I discussed it. She gave me the run of this project.”
Garrett stopped swinging his hammer. “Is that what you want?”
He stretched his arm to indicate the wing he’d built. “Sure.”
“Okay, then. I won’t interfere.”
“That’s what I like to hear.” Despite the cool exchange, they worked companionably for the rest of the day. Which was good because Wydell was on edge enough. Anya was too far out of his sight—and out of his reach. The baggage he came with was too much to dump on a woman like her, not when she couldn’t handle her own. She deserved a whole man, and he definitely wasn’t that.
* * * * *
Three days without a single glimpse of Wydell. She was torn about moving her trailer, because she didn’t want to look out the little bedroom porthole and see his broad form working on the tiny houses. On the other hand, not seeing him was a different kind of torment.
Stop. Her mental brakes hadn’t worked so far. She didn’t know why she kept saying it to herself.
Without meaning to, she looked up toward the site again. From what she could see, there was more than one peaked roof up there, which meant Wydell and Garrett were making good progress.
She spun away and picked up the coffee mug off the draining towel. She set about filling her French press and readied her mug with the heated cream and sugar the way she preferred it.
She would not go up there and see how things were going. She didn’t need to.
But it was her investment. It was silly to hand the power over to somebody else without any oversight. If she wanted things done her way, she needed to be hands on with the project.
After the coffee was prepared, she sank to the booth seat and just stared at her mug. The cream swirled on the surface, not quite mixed.
Like me and Wydell. As much as they’d come together, they hadn’t really meshed. Something was missing.
She took a sip of coffee and sighed. At least she had this one indulgence. Lately she was having trouble finding things from her old life that gave her happiness. Staying in touch with old friends had gotten difficult after she’d inherited. Not to mention those bastards at the newspaper…
Her financial advisor had left her several messages, which she was ignoring. What could he want anyway? She didn’t have anything to say to her old family friend if he was trying to warn her about her spending. After all, she had enough in her account to fund several vacation home projects as well as build churches and homes for more Los Vista residents. She didn’t need him to release funds for her.
No, she wasn’t acting cowardly by avoiding him. Well at least she wasn’t admitting it today.
She dragged in a deep breath of the clean country air and noted the beauty around her. Los Vista, though she had no idea how, had begun to feel more and more like home. Maybe it was finally doing something worthwhile that had caused it, but she had a feeling it was more about the people.
Danica had stopped by with home-baked muffins yesterday and they’d sat in her Airstream for hours talking like best friends. The Kent children were turning up so often that their mother had to come and drag them home. Mrs. Fletcher and some other older ladies left in the community were scheming ways to get her to head their women’s guild. To them, her staying was a foregone conclusion.
And Wydell…
She stared in his direction, at the two peaked roofs, and her chest tightened. The past three days had taught her one thing she didn’t want to admit to herself.
She loved him.
The word had never made her want to run before. Because I’ve never loved someone as annoying as Wydell. But the heart did what it wanted, and hers was obviously wayward. Or a masochist.
All her life, Anya had done what was asked of her. She’d appeased her mother by parading in pageants and given her father hopes that she’d become a champion horse jumper. She’d gone for a degree in business because of her granddaddy’s encouragement.
But now that she had the freedom to make her own decisions, she chose Wydell? What was wrong with her?
With a shake of her head, she started walking down the road. Weeds grew up between the cracks without any traffic to tamp them down. The sun heated the cotton on her shoulders, and she turned her face up.
Stretching her legs felt good. She had to admit she was getting a little tired of sleeping in her nook. Tonight she might try sleeping under the stars as she and Wydell had in his truck.
Memories of their shared night sent goosebumps racing over her skin. He’d looked at her with so much intensity and emotion in his eyes. For the past three days she’d been trying to analyze what those long looks meant, but she had no idea. Did anybody really know Wydell?
Nearing the site, she listened to the music of saws and hammers. When she turned the corner and faced the two tiny homes, she gasped.
Then she looked closer, and gasped again.
Her jaw dropped open as her gaze ran along a very long roofline—one that hadn’t been there three days ago. Or in the plans.
“Wydell!” Her bellow seemed to rise from a pit deep inside herself.
He popped his head out a side window. She bit her lip almost in half. Why did he have to look so damn kissable when she wanted to beat him over the head with a two-by-four?
She stomped toward the house, and he jerked his head back inside. “Don’t you dare hide from me!”
He appeared a second later on the small, finished front porch of the first house. Legs braced apart, arms folded and his jeans hanging oh-so-low.
“What did you do?” she demanded.
His heavy stare traveled over her body, starting at her hair. He held her eyes for a heartbeat before letting his attention slip over her breasts, belly, hips.
Her thigh muscles clenched at the urge to wrap around him again and pull him deep into her body. She fought to regain control, and this time won.
“Wydell, I’m going to ask you one more time. What. Did. You. Do?”
He swept his arm wide. “Made some changes. Come inside and I’ll show you.”
As soon as she set foot in the not-so-tiny house, she realized it now opened into a wing. A light, airy wing with a freaking skylight!
She whirled on him. “Why would you do this?”
He took a step toward her, all rolling muscle and determination in his blue-green eyes. “People need more room.”
“Not everyone is as big as you! Just because—”
Before she realized his intentions, he grabbed her. Pinned her to the wall with her arms over her head. She barely caught her breath before he slammed his lips over hers. The dark, heady taste of him sent her spinning. Her nose filled with sawdust and leather, and she realized he would have been up since dawn tending cattle at the Bells’.
His lips moved over hers, setting her ablaze. Tendrils of need sank low in her belly. Her nipples puckered and tugged an invisible string down to her pussy.
Gasping, she let him control the kiss. Every pass heightened her awareness and she cared less about the changes he’d made.
Wait, no.
She shoved against his chest, creating a gap of air between them. After gulping for breath, she used it to tell him off. “You can’t kiss your way out of this, Wydell.”
“You were nowhere around, sweetheart.” Actually, no one was around. Garrett seemed to have conveniently disappeared.
Wydell tilted her head to the side and kissed along her neck. Her knees became jelly, and she started to sink down the wall.
Lightning fast, he lifted her and bent her over a countertop. When she heard the clank of his belt buckle, her body responded full force. He was going to take her here—now. She glanced over her shoulder to see sheer lust on his handsome features.
Seconds later her jeans and panties were around her ankles and his cock was buried in her to the hilt. He jerked her upward with each thrust until she stood on tiptoe. With his hot, dirty words spilling into her ear, she’d never last long. Besides, three days of deprivation seemed like an eternity.
“Come for me, Anya. Come on my cock and then I’ll show you around the rest of the house. Trust me. You’ll love it.” He bit into her earlobe. She cried out as pain blasted her—along with a blaze of pleasure.
She came hard. He clapped a hand over her mouth and muffled her scream, pulling out before she finished pulsating. Then he whirled her to another wall, lifted her and impaled her on his cock. With her ankles trapped, it was difficult going and he kept hitting his elbows off walls enclosing the space.
In two steps they were in the bathroom. Cold porcelain kissed her skin when he settled her on the sink. Their gazes connected as he hitched her to the edge and slipped his cock in.
“Wydell!”
“Jesus, you’re slippery.” He kissed her. She smacked her head off the small mirror hanging over the sink but didn’t care. She dug her fingers into his churning hips and brought him closer.
As he fucked her, he slid off her boots one at a time and shimmied her clothes off. With her legs free, she locked them around his body and bucked into him. He palmed her breasts, and she started to climb again.
But he stopped. She reached for him and tipped off the sink ledge. With a grunt, she struck his chest. He lifted her again and stormed into the new addition. A big space where a queen-sized bed would easily fit.
“Let’s try this.” He stretched her out on the floor and buried himself balls-deep in her pussy.
* * * * *
Anya curled around him, her lips wild against his. Wydell lifted her to meet his thrusts, wanting deeper, deeper. So fucking glad they’d established an exclusivity rule and he didn’t have a damn condom separating them.
She came again with long, stuttering cries, her body shaking. He gathered her closer. Hell, he’d missed her so much. Part of him had yearned to walk down to her trailer and demand she stop ignoring him. But he’d been struggling with flashbacks again, and she didn’t need to share that with him.
“Feel me so deep?”
“Y-yes.” Her eyes were liquid pools he could dive into forever.
“Clench around me. Tight.”
She squeezed her inner muscles, holding him prisoner with every withdrawal and plunge he made. His eyes hooded. Watching her tip over the cliff into the swirling waters of bliss was something he couldn’t get enough of. Or get enough of her.
She pulled his head down and kissed him with endless stores of passion. “You feel so good, Wydell. Make me come.”
He groaned in response. Stiffened. As soon as his cock seemed to stretch inside her, she contracted once…twice.
When his name left her on a gasp, he let go. Spurts jetted from him as he emptied into her. Damn her for being such a good woman. His troubles wouldn’t be a brick wall separating them if she wasn’t. He’d given it a lot of thought, and his screwed-up mind must be causing the train-wreck between them.
She was right. They weren’t going to work. She deserved somebody more stable. Someone perfect.
With a final grunt, he collapsed atop her. She burrowed closer, a snuggly, curvy sweetheart of a woman. Sunlight streamed through the skylight he’d repurposed from the wreckage of another home. The window was relatively new with no cracks and he figured recycling would make Anya happy.
He peeked at her flushed face. Oh, she looked happy all right. Satisfaction spread through him.
Suddenly she stiffened. “So why exactly did you build this without consulting me? I admit, you did it in record time, but still.”
He pushed out a sigh. “Every house we build doesn’t need to be the size of a postage stamp. People like variety. Probably even these hipsters, whatever they are. The next house is nearly completed, did you see? Garrett’s been busting his ass on it.”
“I was too busy looking at this one.”
“You have to admit that you had a better time when you weren’t bashing your head off a mirror or wedged against a wall.”
“Wydell, I wish we could just get along.”
“So do I.” It was probably better that they never could get it together enough to try a relationship. Walking away from sex with Anya would be hard enough. If emotions were involved, he couldn’t handle it. But who was he fooling? They already were.
He pushed off the floor and walked bare-assed into the other room to retrieve his clothes and boots. He heard her stirring and hurriedly put on his boots.
And then he went outside and kept on walking.
What he needed were wide open spaces and solitude. Garrett and Anya could carry on with the building project. They got along well enough and could make better decisions for the good of the town.
For now, Wydell was officially off the job.
* * * * *
“You’re going where?” Boyd asked for the second time. He watched Wydell toss a duffle into the back of his truck. The same bag he’d brought home after years away, filled with very few belongings. Now it was stuffed with even less—he had enough clothes, food and supplies to get him through about five days in the wilderness.
“I’m going up to the trails. I need some air.”
“Plenty of air here in Los Vista. Not very many using it, either.” Boyd leaned against the truck.
“Yeah? Then why don’t you add yourself to the population again?” said Wydell. “The town needs more people. What has you staying away?”
“My family’s in the next town. You know that.”
“You were never that close to them. Is it a woman?”
Boyd looked away, but not before Wydell saw the truth in his eyes. There was definitely someone keeping him away from Los Vista.
“Not someone so much as some place,” Boyd said.
Wydell didn’t have time to puzzle out that riddle. The need to skip town had him all knotted up inside. “Well I hope the someplace makes you happy. I’m beginning to think we were stupid to hang all our dreams on coming home.”
“I figured that out as soon as we saw it flattened. But it’s not over, Wydell. It’s just beginning. And you still have time to get the girl. She hasn’t pulled out yet.”
He shot his friend a glare. “That’s over.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He shut the truck door but unfortunately, he’d left his window down so Boyd could still yack at him.
“Does she know it’s over?”
Wydell raised a brow. “Does it matter? See you in a few days.”
“Hey, Hard Ass.”
Their eyes met.
“While you’re out camping, don’t forget to check your boots before you put them on.” Boyd gave him a grin. “Rattlers, remember?” He tipped his hat to Wydell.
Driving out of Los Vista shouldn’t have hurt as bad as it did. But when he left the tiny homes and lots he’d broken his back clearing behind, his chest felt too small to fit all his organs.
The area surrounding the town was still primitive. The wilds, some people called it when they came to backpack and hike. But Wydell had grown up running these trails and it had been too long since he’d been there.
The last time had been right after graduation. All five of them had spent a week camping before shipping off to boot camp. It was exactly the sort of thing that would bring Wydell back into balance. For years he’d lived rough in the desert, and a little rattlesnake wasn’t scarier than artillery fire.
He parked the truck at the base of the trail. His bag was fitted with straps he could sling onto his back. It weighed as much as Anya, and all of a sudden he wished it her sweet weight was back in his arms.
Making sure his truck was out of the way in case some dirt bike rider came this way, he set off. It didn’t even take a quarter mile before he was breathing easier.
Los Vista had begun to feel like one of Anya’s ridiculous homes—too small. He needed to let out some of his pent-up frustrations because he couldn’t take them out on Anya again.
Sure, she’d been on board with him fucking her all over the tiny house, but it hadn’t taken him long to figure out that he’d been wrong to do so. His animalistic side had scared him afterward, but he’d seen only tenderness in her eyes.
For a heart-throbbing moment, he stopped dead in his tracks. Should he turn around? She might be gone by the time he was done out here. He’d walked out on her without so much as a goodbye when all he’d wanted to do was cuddle her and talk the day away. He even wanted to argue with her about why he’d built the addition on the house.
He’d originally planned to show off his hard work in a much different way. Candles and champagne had come to mind—without the violent reaction to the cork pop, of course.
He swiped a hand over his sweaty face. Damn, he really was a mess, no good to any woman let alone a perfect one like Anya. She had money—he was living in his buddy’s barn. She was beautiful while he had a good share of burned, twisted skin on his arm. And she was whole but he couldn’t go more than a few hours without drifting off into harsh memories.
As he increased his pace, he welcomed the warmth in his muscles. One mile turned into two, then four.
Passing a scrubby bush, he detected some rustling. He stopped dead a split second before a boar rushed out. Wydell palmed his sidearm like a cowboy out of the Old West. He didn’t even squeeze off a shot before the animal started to charge.
He gave a warning shout, not wanting to kill the animal if he could get it to run away. When it kept coming, he shot into the dirt in front of it. Dust spattered its face, and Wydell’s heart tripped.
The boar turned and ran. Wydell watched it disappear from sight, gauging how many more of those beasts he might encounter before he reached the caves.
Heart still banging like a war drum, he took aim at a distant tree and emptied his weapon. Checked his aim. Before the war, each shot used to feel like coming home. An extension of himself. But now…
Now not much gave him ease at all, except Anya.
What was she doing right now? He looked at the sun’s position and guessed it to be early afternoon. So many hours they could have lain together, but he’d screwed up everything.
He kept picking up his feet and putting them down, a Marine cadence in the back of his mind as he put distance between himself and the woman who’d burrowed deep into his heart, mind and soul.
* * * * *
Anya dragged in a deep breath of grass-scented air, though she couldn’t enjoy it. Not when her heart was in so much turmoil.
She’d tried to ignore the fact that Wydell had walked out on her. Without a word, no less. When she thought about how she’d waited for him to return, a flush coated her cheeks. Part of her was furious that he’d treat her this way while another, more intuitive part urged her to consult his friends and see if he was okay.
He hadn’t returned to the building site, she knew that much. She’d moved her trailer again in order to keep an eye out.
She crossed the turf between her truck and the Bell’s wide front porch. Mismatched chairs were arranged in an inviting way, and she thought of sweet tea and good conversation.
When she knocked, she realized too late that they’d be sitting down for dinner. It was why she hadn’t seen anybody outside of the ranch house.
“Crap,” she muttered a second before the door opened.
Danica’s face wreathed in smiles. “Anya! Come in. We’re just having dinner. Will you join us?”
“Oh, sorry, no thanks. I didn’t mean to—”
“Don’t be silly. We’ve got plenty. Guys, Anya’s here.” Danica strode through the house and into the dining room. Anya had no choice but to follow on the breeze she created.
Anya stepped into the kitchen and six eyes fixed on her. No, make that eight. The dog was looking at her too.
She threw a silly wave and said, “Hi.”
“Have a seat beside Boyd. He won’t bite,” Danica said.
“I’m not making any promises.” Boyd waggled his brows but pulled out the chair next to him. Anya took it with a word of thanks. Danica set a plate and silverware before her, and people started passing her platters of ham and dishes of scalloped potatoes.
Anya glanced down at her plate, which held more food than she’d consume in two meals. But to be polite, she lifted her fork and took a bite of the potatoes. Cheesy and with bits of onion, the flavors made her moan.
Boyd spoke up. “Hey, Mikey, she he likes it!”
She smiled at the TV reference from their childhoods, and then looked to Danica. “These are delicious. Will you share the recipe?”
“Sure, it’s no secret.” She smiled again, looking less peaked than she had a few days before while they’d sat in Anya’s trailer eating muffins. Her pregnancy might have progressed enough that she wasn’t feeling as ill.
Anya forked a few more bites into her mouth before she got up the gumption to tell them her reason for being there. “Has anyone seen Wydell? I’m worried about him. He left the tiny house project without saying a word to me.”
“I saw him a few hours ago,” Boyd said before taking a mouthful of ham.
Everybody stared at him while he chewed, but he seemed to ignore them.
“Well?” Brodie prompted with enough exasperation that Danica threw him an amused look.
Boyd shrugged and swallowed. “He took off for a few days.”
A chasm in Anya’s chest opened up. “Took off?”
“Where?” Garrett asked, concern deepening his tone.
“Went off to the trails. Said he needed time to think.”
Brodie set down his fork. “Which trails?”
“The caves. What other trails are there? We spent enough time there as kids.”
Brodie leaned back in his chair and Danica gave him a sidelong look that set Anya on edge. “Damn.”
“Are these trails dangerous?” she asked.
“Not if he has his weapon, and I know he does. I saw him take it.” Boyd looked around the table. “What are you getting your panties in a bunch about? He’s a grown-ass man back from a fucking war. He can handle himself against a boar or two.”
“Boyd’s right,” Garrett said.
The mood at the table relaxed, but Anya couldn’t do anything but wring her hands in her lap. He’d gone off to think…about what?
“I’m worried.” The words escaped her before she’d given them thought. “He’s been having some troubles.”
“What kind of troubles?” Brodie asked a bit sharply.
“I catch him staring into space and…other things.” She didn’t want to mention how he sometimes jumped when she put her hand on him, even after sharing a romp in bed when he should be completely relaxed. “I think he has PTSD.”
Brodie returned to his plate of food. Danica pressed her lips together. Anya looked between them, wondering what was going on. Nobody seemed willing to discuss the war, as if the topic were dirty and shameful.
Anya pressed her point. “Do you think he’s okay out there alone?”
“Yes,” all three men said at the same time.
Anya blinked at their sudden agreement. Was it because they knew Wydell so well or because all three of them also had times where they needed to escape to the wilderness?
She barely ate, but after the guys went back outside to see to the nightly chores, she helped Danica clear the table. While her friend filled the dishwasher, Anya wiped down the counters and stove. Neither spoke. Then Anya fielded several calls from a newspaper reporter, who wouldn’t take no for an answer. Her annoyance level was at a snapping point.
“I know Wydell’s decision to be alone is weighing on you,” Danica said at last.
She looked up, hoping her face didn’t mimic the distress she felt in her heart. Deep down she knew Wydell shouldn’t be alone. He was upset with her and even if that wasn’t totally the case, he was battling inner demons.
“I’ll speak with him when he comes back to town. I never heard of these trails before. Or caves. Where are they exactly?” She kept her tone light hoping Danica didn’t catch on. She seemed lost in thought, so maybe she wouldn’t.
“The trails are off Deep Hollow Road, and the caves are at the end of them. We all went there as kids. Lots of artifacts in those caves.”
“Artifacts?” Anya asked.
“Yes, some Indian tribe. Nobody’s ever explored them properly or said for sure what tribe. But Anya, the guys are right. Wydell will be all right.”
She tried to ignore that niggling fear inside her, but it was useless. She had to see for herself if he was okay. “What makes you so sure he’ll be all right?”
“Because I know these guys. Brodie gets that way sometimes too. These men have seen things. They’re still trying to rebuild their souls along with this town.” Tears swam in her eyes. “Give Wydell some time, okay? If he isn’t back in a few days, we’ll go after him. Both of us.”
Anya nodded and carefully folded the dishcloth over the center divider of the sink. Then she turned with a bright smile she didn’t feel. “Thank you for dinner and for the company, Danica.”
“You’re always welcome.” They embraced, and Anya left the Bells’ ranch.
Twenty minutes later she’d packed a small backpack and parked next to Wydell’s truck. No matter how confident his friends were that Wydell was just working through some things, she had to see it with her own eyes. What if they didn’t know the Wydell she knew?