Page 35 of Broken Roads (Hard to Handle #1)

Hailey

T he weight of Bradley's confession settles between us like the damp night air.

He's just handed me every piece of himself—his family wounds, his past failures, his carefully guarded heart—and now he sits beside me, waiting.

Vulnerable in a way I never expected from this stubborn, immovable rancher.

The man who told me he wants more than friendship.

The man who followed me to my AA meeting out of jealousy.

The man whose dark eyes now search mine for any sign of what I'm feeling, while his body remains perfectly still, as if he’s afraid the slightest movement might shatter this fragile moment between us.

I should be angry. Should hold onto the betrayal of him following me, of seeing me in that vulnerable space without my consent. But something about his raw honesty, the way he's stripped himself bare before me, disarms my defenses one by one.

The sobriety token weighs heavy in my pocket, a reminder of all I've fought to rebuild. Of facing my demons without liquid courage. And now I'm facing something else entirely—the possibility of letting someone see all of me, broken pieces and all.

His eyes never leave mine, patient yet hungry in a way that sends heat spiraling through my core. The flashlight between us casts shadows across his face, highlighting the strong line of his jaw, the fullness of his mouth. My fingers itch to discover if his stubble feels as rough as it looks.

"Say something," he murmurs, breaking the silence between us. "Anything."

Words have never been my strong suit. Not when it matters most. Actions, though, those I understand.

I stand suddenly. The movement catches him off guard, and his shoulders tense as if bracing for rejection. He thinks I'm leaving. The realization sends a surge of boldness through me, a desire to surprise this man who thinks he has me figured out.

Instead of turning away, I take the single step that brings me directly in front of him.

His knees bump against mine, our bodies close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from him even through the cool night air.

His confusion is evident in the slight furrow of his brow, the way his lips part to speak words that never come.

Before he can find his voice, before I can second-guess myself, I place one knee on the bench beside his thigh, then the other on his opposite side and settle onto his lap.

His sharp intake of breath is audible in the quiet night as his body goes rigid beneath mine. Those large, capable hands hover at my sides, but don’t touch.

"Hailey," he says, my name coming out strained. "What are you—"

"No more following me," I interrupt, my voice surprisingly steady despite the thundering of my heart. My fingers slide up the corded muscles of his neck, threading through the thick strands of his hair. "Unless it's into the bathroom for my morning shower."

The groan that rumbles through his chest vibrates against me as his hands finally land on my thighs. The heat of his palms burn through my jeans while his fingers dig into the muscle with just enough pressure to make my breath catch.

"Was that an invitation?" The question comes out low and rough, his eyes dark enough to drown in as they lock with mine.

A smile tugs at my lips, confidence building with each passing second of his obvious desire.

I shift slightly, pressing myself more firmly against him, and feel the unmistakable evidence of his desire.

"If you have to ask," I whisper, leaning closer until our foreheads nearly touch, "I wasn't being clear enough. "

Before he can respond, I close the final distance between us, pressing my lips to his.

The first touch is electric, a current running from my lips straight between my legs. His mouth is softer than expected, a contrast to the hard planes of his body. For a heartbeat, he remains motionless beneath me, as if stunned by my boldness. Then something inside him breaks free.

His hands slide from my thighs up to my waist, gripping me with a possessive strength that makes me gasp against his mouth. Taking advantage of my parted lips, he deepens the kiss with a hunger that matches the storm building inside me. His tongue slides against mine and I'm lost.

My fingers tighten in his hair, tugging just enough to earn another groan from deep in his chest. The sound ripples through me, igniting something primal and needy that I've kept carefully banked.

I'd forgotten how intoxicating desire could be, how it could flood your system more effectively than any alcohol.

"Fuck, Hailey," he murmurs against my lips, pulling back just enough to look at me. "You have no idea how long I've wanted this."

My heart beats wildly against my ribs, the confession sending heat rushing to my cheeks despite our already intimate position. "Show me," I challenge, rolling my hips deliberately against his.

His eyes darken even further, his jaw tightening with restraint that looks physically painful. Then his hands are moving, sliding beneath the hem of my jacket, fingertips skimming the sliver of bare skin where my shirt has ridden up.

"Cold hands," I gasp, arching into his touch despite the chill.

His lips curve in a smile that's equal parts apology and wicked promise. "I'll warm them up," he says, his voice dropping low. "All over this gorgeous body."

His palms flatten against my lower back, drawing me closer until we're pressed chest to chest. I can feel his heart hammering against mine, his breathing as uneven as my own.

One hand slides up my spine, fingers splaying wide between my shoulder blades while the other dips lower, tracing the waistband of my jeans with maddening slowness.

"You're trembling," he murmurs, lips brushing against my jaw.

"It's cold," I lie.

His chuckle vibrates against my throat where his mouth now explores. "Liar," he whispers, teeth grazing my pulse point. "You're shaking because you want me as badly as I want you."

The truth of his words sends a fresh wave of heat through me. I do want him. Have wanted him since that first morning in the hallway, maybe even before. My body responds to his touch like it's been waiting for him, specifically him, all this time.

I turn my head, seeking his mouth again, needing the connection.

This kiss is deeper than the first, more deliberate.

His tongue slides against mine in a rhythm that mimics what I desperately want from him, what my body is practically begging for as I press myself against the hard length of him straining against his jeans.

"Tell me what you want," he murmurs against my lips, voice rough with need. "Tell me, Hailey."

"Touch me," I manage, the words more plea than command. "Please, Bradley."

His hand slides from my back, around my ribs, until his thumb brushes the underside of my breast through my shirt. Even that light touch sends electricity racing through me, my nipples hardening in anticipation.

"Here?" he asks, his touch skimming higher, circling but never quite reaching where I need him most.

I nod, words failing me as desire clouds my thoughts. His mouth traces a path along my jaw, down the column of my throat, lingering at the sensitive spot where my neck meets my shoulder. When his teeth graze the skin there, a moan escapes me, embarrassingly loud in the quiet night.

"Fuck, I love that sound," he growls, finally fully cupping my breast while his thumb brushes over my nipple through the layers of fabric. "Want to hear what other sounds I can pull out of you, sunshine."

The nickname, so unexpected and tender amid the heat between us, makes my heart stutter. I arch into his touch, silently begging for more, and he responds with a firm squeeze that sends sparks shooting through me.

"Bradley," I gasp, hips instinctively rolling against his. The friction makes us both groan, his grip on me tightening as he guides my movements.

"That's it," he encourages, his voice dropping to a whisper directly against my ear. "Show me how you want it."

My body responds without conscious thought, finding a rhythm against him that has us both breathing harder. His hand at my breast continues its torturous teasing, somehow knowing exactly how much pressure to apply, how to circle and squeeze until I'm practically whimpering with need.

"I've thought about this," he confesses, lips brushing my ear with each word.

"Thought about you underneath me, on top of me, spread open for me.

" His tongue traces the shell of my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

"Thought about how you'd taste on my tongue, how you'd feel wrapped around my cock. "

The explicit words shock a gasp from me, my body clenching with need at the images he's painting. This is a side of Bradley I never expected—commanding, filthy-mouthed, utterly confident in his ability to unravel me.

"Yes," I breathe, not entirely sure what I'm agreeing to, just knowing I want it all.

His lips find mine again, the kiss almost bruising in its intensity.

His hands slide lower, gripping my ass and pulling me tighter against him, guiding my movements as I rock against the hard ridge of his erection.

Even through our jeans, the pressure is exquisite, building a tension low in my belly that winds tighter with each roll of my hips.

"Fuck, the way you move," he groans against my mouth. "The sounds you make." One hand slides up my back, tangling in my hair and tugging just enough to tilt my head back, exposing my throat to his hungry mouth. "Been dreaming about this since that first day."

His confession sends another surge of wetness between my thighs, my body responding to his words almost as much as his touch. I've never been with someone who talks like this, who lays his desire so bare. The raw honesty of it is as arousing as his hands on my body.

"Bradley," I gasp as his teeth graze my collarbone. "I need—"

"I know what you need," he interrupts, his voice a rumble against my skin. His hand slides between us, fingers pressing against the seam of my jeans exactly where I'm throbbing for him. "Bet you're soaked for me, aren't you, sunshine?"

I nod frantically, beyond words as his fingers apply perfect pressure through the denim. My thighs tighten around his hips, my entire body coiling toward release as he continues his deliberate torture.

"Want to make you come," he whispers, his breath hot against my neck. "Right here, under the stars. Want to feel you shaking in my arms."

I'm close, embarrassingly close considering we're both still fully clothed.

His words, combined with the relentless pressure of his fingers against my jeans, send me hurtling toward the edge. My body tenses against his, every muscle coiling tight as the tension builds to an unbearable peak.

"That's it," he murmurs, his voice rough with desire as he watches my face. "Let go for me, sunshine. I've got you."

The gentle command in his voice pushes me over. I come apart in his arms with a cry that echoes across the valley as waves of pleasure crash through me. Holding me steady while I ride out the aftershocks, he presses gentle kisses to my temple.

"Beautiful," he whispers against my hair. "So fucking beautiful."

As the haze of pleasure begins to clear, I become aware of his body beneath mine, still impossibly hard. My hands drift down to his belt, fingers fumbling with the buckle, but he catches my wrists gently.

"What's wrong?" I manage.

He shakes his head slightly, one hand rising to cup my cheek. "Nothing's wrong. Everything about you is so fucking right it scares me." His thumb traces my lower lip, still sensitive from his kisses. "But this…it matters too much to rush."

The confession hits me square in the chest, somehow more intimate than his hands on my body.

"I want you," he continues, "Fuck, Hailey, I want you so badly I can barely think straight. But not like this. Not the first time." His eyes hold mine, sincere and burning with promise. "Not on a damp bench in the woods when you're still processing everything that happened tonight."

Part of me wants to argue, to tell him I know exactly what I'm doing. But the tenderness in his gaze stops the words in my throat.

"I've rushed a lot of things in my life," he says, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "Made decisions I regretted later. This—us—I don't want to regret a single moment. And more importantly, I don’t want you to."

A tremor runs through me that has nothing to do with the night chill and everything to do with the sincerity in his words. I drop my head onto his shoulder and tuck my face into the crook of his neck as I try to regain some semblance of control over my racing heart.

He wraps his arms around me, holding me against him as if I'm something precious.

"When we do this," he murmurs against my hair, "and we will do this, make no mistake, I want you fully present. Not distracted by me following you or any of the shit that happened tonight."

I nod against his neck, inhaling his scent, allowing it to ground me as my pulse gradually slows to something approaching normal. "When did you get so wise?" I ask, my voice muffled against his skin.

His chest rumbles with quiet laughter. "Don't confuse wisdom with selfishness, sunshine. I just want to make damn sure when I finally get you naked, you're thinking about nothing but me and what I'm doing to you."

His words send another jolt of heat through me, despite my body's gradual cooling. "That's a hell of a promise to make, cowboy."

Trapping my chin between his fingers, he tilts my face up until our eyes meet. "It's not a promise," he says, his gaze intense enough to steal my breath. "It's a fucking guarantee."

Then his lips are on mine again, softer this time, a gentle exploration rather than the desperate hunger of before. It's a kiss that feels like a beginning rather than an end, a promise of what's to come rather than a culmination.

When he pulls back, he traces my lower lip with his thumb, eyes following the movement with naked hunger. "Come on," he says. "Let's get you home before I change my mind about being a gentleman."

I shift in his lap, reluctant to break the connection between us despite the wisdom of his words. "And if I don't want a gentleman?"

The growl that rumbles through his chest sends a shiver down my spine. "Trust me, sunshine." He squeezes my hips one last time before gently lifting me off his lap. "When the time comes, you'll get exactly what you need. Gentleman or not."

As we stand and gather ourselves to head back to the ranch, his hand finds mine in the darkness, fingers intertwining with a surety that feels like coming home.