Page 7 of Autumn be His Wife (Alphas Fall Hard Collection #4)

Piper

Dusty is a liar.

When I close my eyes, sleep doesn’t come. How can it? Every nerve in my body hums with awareness of him lying just an arm’s length away. His breathing fills the space between us, uneven as mine.

Something tells me he’s not sleeping either, that he’s listening to my restlessness with the same desperate attention I’m paying to his.

The thick mattress dips slightly every time he shifts. I count the inches between my shoulder and his—maybe six, maybe less. Close enough that if I turned toward him, if I let myself be brave for just one moment, my fingertips could find the warmth of his arm.

Staring through the darkness above, I focus on anything else. The wind howling outside like some wild thing desperate to get in. Tree branches scrape along the cabin wall with fingernail persistence, a sound I can blame for my insomnia if I don’t want to be honest with myself.

But honesty sits heavy in my chest tonight. The truth is, I’ve memorized the rhythm of his breathing over the past hour. I know exactly when he holds his breath, when he sighs so quietly I almost miss it.

The cabin feels too small, the air too thin. Every sound amplified—the whisper of sheets when he moves, the soft catch in his throat that makes my pulse stutter.

I wonder if he can hear my heart hammering against my ribs, if he knows that every cell in my body is screaming for me to close this impossible distance between us.

Rolling to look at him, I take in his form. Watching the way his chest rises and falls, I catch myself reaching over toward him before I’m shoving my hands beneath the blanket.

Can’t excuse the shiver that rolls through my body due to the coolness of the room. Thanks to this man, everything beneath the blanket is pure heat. With the kind of heat he’s radiating, it’s enough to make a heater jealous.

What I’ll do is count a hundred sheep. However many it takes for me to finally go under. If there’s the chance that one will put me out of my misery, I’ll double my attempt.

Imagining each puff of white jumping over some terribly imagined wooden fence doesn’t get me very far. I last for maybe thirty sheep before my eyes crack back open. Sighing under my breath, I roll away from him.

“Can’t sleep?” His voice is so soft, I almost miss it. Looks like we really are both sharing the same fate.

Rolling back to look at him, the moonlight slipping between the cracks of his blinds reveals he’s staring back.

Nodding my head, I find myself inching a little closer. The bed is much bigger than Eli’s, but not giant. I’m so close to him that it wouldn’t take any effort to touch him. He’s just so warm, it’s no mystery of why I want to get closer.

“I’m cold,” I lie, excusing my actions through a whisper.

The craziest part? He doesn’t stop me or pull away. Rather, he moves his arm out of the way so that if I want, I could shift all the way to his chest if I wanted to.

Boy, do I want to.

“I shouldn’t.” Whispering the words, I can’t tell if I’m talking to him or my body.

How do I tell him that I want him so freaking bad, but I don’t want to risk misunderstanding? How do I tell him that I want to stay here right at his side without messing everything up?

“I’m cold, too.” The words leave him just as soft, and I’m confident he’s lying too.

Yet, I don’t care. I roll over to him so I can finally see what it’s like to be a little spoon. When his arm suddenly wraps around me, I learn it’s the best thing ever.

What more can a woman ask for?

“Better?” His breath tickles my throat, and it’s almost like I can feel his lips against my skin.

As my toes curl and I scooch impossibly closer to his chest, my fingers dance along his arm until finally, I reach his hand. His grip on me feels secure, like he has no intentions of ever letting me go.

“Yeah. Much better.” With the darkness hiding my smile, I close my eyes and wonder if I’ll be able to sleep now. Surrounded by warmth, it should be soon, right?

I can hear the thump of a heart, but surprisingly enough, I don’t think it’s mine. When I concentrate, I can feel it against my back. While I’m at it, I can feel his breath against the crown of my head.

I never want to leave this bed. Thankful that it’s the weekend, and both Eli and Dusty get to stay home, there’s no reason to wake early. I’ll get a few more hours of this all to myself.

His thumb brushes along my stomach, revealing we’re still in the same boat. The silk of my pajamas is so thin, the heat of his touch is soaking straight through. He may as well be touching my skin directly.

“Are you happy here, Piper?” The question is unexpected, and this time, the racing thump of a heart is definitely mine. “With us, I mean.”

“Yes.” The answer comes immediately, and I don’t consider holding back. “Even if it’s been just a short period of time, I’ve never been happier.”

A satisfied hum leaves his lips, and I feel it against my hair.

“I’ll pay you back one of these days, I swear.” Grimacing from the inability to do so now, a tingle forms beneath his hand as his touch grows firmer.

“I don’t want anything.” His voice seems deeper, almost like he’s upset by the very thought. “No, that’s a lie. I want something, just not money.”

What could he possibly want if it’s not that? How can I repay him?

“What is it? I’ll make it happen. I promise, whatever it is—”

“I want you to stay with us.” Coming out as a soft whisper, he mumbles it. For a moment, I think I misheard him. He leaves it at just that. Doesn’t demand anything but my presence.

What kind of person would take in a stray without asking for anything in return?

Sounds way too good to be true. If it came from someone who wasn’t Dusty, someone I know isn’t a good man at heart, then I’d be skeptical.

“Eli likes you, too. I can talk to him, but I’m sure he doesn’t mind your company.” He sighs softly. “It’s been years since my home has felt this lively. I don’t want it to end.”

He wants me to stay. He wants me to stay.

The concept feels so foreign that I consider asking him to repeat himself so I can make sure I heard it right.

“Can I ask why?” Not wanting him to change his mind, I’m dying to know. We both know why I came to this small town, but there’s no way he’d want to put a ring on my finger instead. Heck, I don’t even have to get married at all if that’s what he wants.

When he doesn’t answer immediately, I panic.

What if he starts questioning his reasons before letting doubt slip in? I can’t let that happen.

“Tell me, Dusty.” The words are a breathless rush, tumbling out before I can stop them. “Don’t think about it. There are no wrong answers.”

I squirm, the movement involuntary, and am rewarded by a soft, ragged groan from him. It’s a sound that goes straight through me. His hand on my stomach slides lower, fingers splaying over my hipbone. His grip tightens, holding me perfectly, utterly still against the sudden tremor in my own limbs.

“You really don’t know?” His voice is low, a gravelly whisper that’s more vibration than sound.

Am I supposed to know? My mind whites out, then zeroes in on the hard press of his body against mine when he picked me up, the latent strength, the shocking heat, and the hardness that was impossible to misunderstand.

I have to know. I have to test the theory before my hope makes a fool of me.

Slowly, I press back against him.

The effect is instantaneous. A hard, solid ridge of heat meets my back, and a rumble vibrates from his chest into mine. Another groan leaves his lips, and this one is for me, because of me.

The evidence is irrefutable, a truth more eloquent than any words he could ever say.

This man wants me.

“Dusty…”

He sighs again into my hair before he gives my hip a squeeze. “No matter how you feel about me, my offer is concrete. I want you to stay. But if you want me to stop, hell, if you want to draw the line at being friends, I need to know, Piper. I need to know now before I lose my mind.”

His words are a plea, a final line drawn in the sand. My answer is not in my voice, but in my body. I bite my lip, the sharp little pain a counterpoint to the ache blooming low in my stomach.

Slowly, my fingers find the hand splayed on my hip. I don’t push it away. I weave my fingers through his, locking them together, and pull.

I guide his palm flat against my lower abdomen, the silk of my pajamas a whisper between his skin and mine. A shuddering breath escapes me as I chase the courage to keep moving.

His entire body goes rigid behind me, a statue carved from heat and want. My skin grows fever-hot beneath his touch, a silent answer.

Holding my breath, I inch our joined hands lower. The world narrows to this single point of contact. We reach the delicate, tied bow of my pajama pants. My heart is a wild drum against my ribs, so loud I’m certain he can feel it.

And then he moves. A subtle, instinctive roll of his hips that presses the hard, undeniable proof of his want against me. A soft, broken sound catches in my throat. Ache is too small a word for the need that fractures me.

His breathing, already ragged, hitches and grows faster, a harsh rhythm against the shell of my ear.

“Piper,” he grinds out, his voice raw and strained.

My toes curl tight as I abandon his hand long enough to pull the strings undone. My thighs press tighter together despite what I want him to do.

“Am I doing this right?” My words come out wobbly, my resolution shaky. I’m so close to finally addressing this throb I get between my legs whenever I get lost in thought about him or remain near him for too long.

Do I tell him that I’ve never fed into this throbbing before? That I never wanted to risk getting caught?

My toes curl tight as I abandon his hand long enough to pull the strings undone. My thighs press tighter together despite what I want him to do. Feeling my pulse grow there, I don’t think I’m helping it calm in the slightest.

“Am I doing this right?” My words come out wobbly, my resolution shaky. I’m so close to finally addressing this throb I get between my legs whenever I get lost in thought about him or remain near him for too long.

But the words don’t matter. He must know. He must feel it in the way my body trembles. The proof is in the curse he breathes against my ear, a sound of pure agony.

“You’re doing so well, sweetness.” His lips brush the sensitive skin just below my ear, and a full-body shiver wracks through me. “So perfect for me. Do you want me to touch you?”

The question is a low thrum against my skin. All I can manage is a frantic, desperate nod, my cheek rubbing against the pillow.

“Where, Piper?” he coaxes, his free hand smoothing up my side, anchoring me. “Tell me where you want my hands.”

His patience, the way he’s making me ask for it, is its own exquisite torture. Now that we’re on the same page here, there are no wrong turns. No wrong answers.

The confession is torn from me on a breathless, aching sigh. “Everywhere.”

A low groan rumbles in his chest. His fingers, the ones I had guided, finally move on their own, slipping past the loosened silk. His touch is sure, his palm cupping me through the damp lace of my panties, and my hips jerk with a mind of their own.

“You’re soaked, Piper.” Telling me what I already know, he shifts so he’s halfway sitting up, giving himself the perfect view of my curling body. “Tell me, how long?”

His middle finger traces a long, torturous line down damp cotton, only adding a hint of pressure when I don’t answer him quickly enough, and a broken whimper escapes my lips.

The truth, the whole humiliating, aching truth, bubbles up, pulled from me by his expert teases. While I’m exploring the unknown, he already knows what to do, and how to do it.

“Every time I’m with you, I get like this.” Halfway through my words, he presses me where I’m most sensitive, and a moan slips past my lips.

A satisfied smile touches his lips. His fingers dance back up, teasing the band to my panties.

“Let me make it up to you then by helping you take care of this.” His words are calm, but the look in his eyes is anything but.

This man looks like he’s ready to eat me alive.