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“Bix,” he ground out.

“I’m good,” she said. “Cycle wise. It’s fine.”

He shouldn’t. But he was out of control. He shouldn’t, but every wall was demolished.

He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t. And for the last fifteen years of his life that had been enough. The drumbeat of what he should and shouldn’t do, of who he should and shouldn’t be, had been enough to keep him from doing things. To make him do the right things. But not now.

Because the bigger drive, the bigger truth, was how much he needed her. And so he brought her down over his length, skin to skin, felt her all glorious and wetand tight around him, and it was like a song inside of his soul.

He lost himself in it. In her.

He had never wanted anything or anyone so much.

He never would again.

Because after this the walls would go back up. After this, everything would be finished. After this, there would be no more.

This was goodbye.

Not just to Bix, but to the man he had become while he was with her.

It had to be that way.

He watched her. With every stroke, as she took each and every bit of pleasure that was afforded to her. He felt like he had been cut open, flayed. He felt like he was being rubbed down with salt. He felt like he had died and gone to heaven. He never wanted it to end.

He held on as long as he could. Until she was shaking. Until she gave up her own release. And then he demanded it again. He put his thumb between them, where their bodies joined and stroked her until she cried out. And then, only then did he let himself go over.

He poured himself into her, and then brought her face down to his, kissed her hard, swallowed her cry of pleasure. His forehead against hers, held her there like that.

She put her hands on his face, and he saw something horribly, indescribably sad in her eyes.

“What?” he asked.

“You break my heart, Daughtry. Because I don’t think you know... I don’t think you know how amazing you are.”

“Don’t,” he said.

“I won’t. Not tonight.”

He wrapped his arms around her, and held her. They stayed like that until the water was cold. And then he carried her to bed. Because he needed to hang on. To the next few hours, to everything. He needed this. He needed Bix.

And he felt like once the sun rose, everything would change.

Chapter Twenty-One

It didn’t take long for rumors of the big dustup to spread around the ranch. When Daughtry passed through in the morning with swollen, busted-up knuckles, there was talk. And well, Bix didn’t have it in her to let rumors run rampant.

Not when she could easily clear them up.

“He was defending me,” she said.

“That’s so romantic,” said Rue, softening for a second and looking down at her engagement ring.

“That must put him in an awful temper,” said Denver. “You know, he thinks he’s better than the rest of us.”

“He doesn’t,” said Bix, feeling irritated that Denver made that assumption. “Have you ever met your own brother? He doesn’t think he’s as good as anyone. He thinks he sucks. He’s wrong.”

Denver and Justice exchanged a look.