Page 9 of Claiming Bennett (Montgomery Dreams #3)

BENNETT

The barn is deserted, which is good, because I’d get my ass handed to me if David saw me out here right now.

I spent the day lounging around in my trailer after getting stitched up, pointedly not thinking about sweet little Magnolia. No, I tidied up the small space and caught up with Ma and Pa and Benji and scrolled through mindless social media posts. Essentially, I did fuck-all, and I’m antsy.

I don’t do well sitting still.

My arm hardly hurts at all, especially with the pain relievers Dr. Mulaney sent me home with after stitching me up.

It was definitely worse than I thought, and I’m glad I got stitches, but she told me I should be good to get back to work tomorrow as long as I’m not lifting anything heavy.

I haven’t read through the list of restrictions she sent me home with, but I’ll get around to it.

Eventually.

I came out to the barn with plans to just make sure all the lights were off and talk to the horses for a bit until I was tired enough for bed, but there are feed bags slung against the wall of the tack room, so I might as well put them away while I’m out here.

The only reason they didn’t get sorted in the first place is because I was on bed rest, per David’s insistence along with orders from the good doctor.

It feels good to move around a bit, loosen up my muscles and do some mindless work.

I dump the last bag of feed into the storage bins before crumpling the bag in my hands and stuffing it into the overfull trash can. It’ll make too much noise if I take it out to the dumpster now, but I’ll need to empty it in the morning.

The creak of the barn door snaps me out of my thoughts. It’s immediately followed by shuffling, hesitant footsteps, and my brow creases in curiosity.

It must be David, probably ready to ream my ass for working when I’m supposed to be resting. Confusion breaks that idea apart quickly—David walks confidently, and whoever’s coming definitely isn’t wearing boots. It sounds like they’re wearing something soft, not even sneakers, but maybe?—

I break that train of thought off before I can sink into memories of the cute little slippers Maggie was wearing the first time I saw her.

There’s no reason for her to be out here, especially at this time of night.

The sun is firmly beneath the horizon, dusk settling into true evening.

Bo mentioned earlier how much she hates getting dirty, that he and his older sister both help on the ranch when they’re home, but Maggie refuses to step foot out here.

It’s much more likely that it’s Bo or David, probably wondering why there’s still a light on out here.

I lean out of the feed room with a sheepish grin on my face, prepared for a dressing down about resting when I’m told to, and freeze at what I see.

Sweet little Magnolia, all alone in the barn, glancing between stalls.

She’s in the same silky pajamas she wore when I first saw her. They bare so much skin that it makes my fingers itch with the need to touch, to leave bruises of my fingerprints all over those toned thighs.

And she’s wearing the slippers too.

Pristine white and fluffy, shaped like bunnies complete with little button noses and whiskers.

God, I’m so fucked.

“Magnolia?”

She jumps at the sound of my voice, her arms coming up to clutch at her own waist in surprise.

The movement stretches the thin fabric of her tank top even tighter over her breasts, and I tear my gaze away before I start drooling.

I didn’t get to see her before I left the doctor’s earlier, and the sight of her now hits me like a bullet.

“Bennett!” she squeaks. She laughs at her own surprise even as a flush builds on her cheeks, and I stomp down viciously on the part of my brain that thinks it’s cute. “Jesus, you scared me.”

She walks over to join me in the doorway to the feed room as I brush my hands off my jeans, the soft glow of the bare lightbulb making her blonde hair look like a halo of curls around her head.

I arch a brow at her when she comes to a stop a hair too close to me to be casual, but I don’t step back.

Stray bits of hay cling to the slippers, making her look even more out of place.

The barn is dark and quiet, just like the world outside, nothing but the chirp of crickets to break the silence. It almost feels like nothing is real right now. Like I could get away with anything.

That’s a dangerous line of thought.

“What are you doing out here so late, sweet Magnolia?” I ask, keeping my voice low.

She scowls at the nickname, but doesn’t correct me this time, instead just huffing and rolling her eyes. “What are you doing out here so late? Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

I grin at the obvious attempt to skirt my question, and the even more obvious antagonization. Ranch hands are notorious for being early to bed, early to rise, but I’ve never been the type to knock out as soon as the sun is down.

“I work here, in case you forgot,” I say blandly, crossing my arms over my chest. “I had some things to wrap up since I was at the doctor’s earlier.”

Her eyes tear away from the breadth of my chest and shoulders to find the bandages wrapped neatly around my forearm, and she takes another daring step closer.

My breath catches in my lungs when she reaches out and pries my arm free.

Her perfume invades my senses again, that same sweet floral scent that’s been haunting my thoughts.

Her fingertips are soft and careful as she traces around the edge of the bandage, honey-colored eyes wide and sweet enough to rot my teeth as she looks up at me.

“How’s it holding up?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

My hand clenches into a fist in a desperate bid for some sort of control, but she’s close enough for me to feel the heat of her skin. I’m playing a losing game, and I know it.

“Not too bad. Pain meds help. It wasn’t that bad in the first place.” My voice is rough with barely restrained desire, and she shivers at the sound of it. “Doc did a good job of stitching me up.”

She takes another half step toward me, her fingers slipping away from the bandage to crawl further up my arm.

There’s no hesitation in her movements, bold and brash and demanding even though her eyes swim with nerves and excitement.

What the hell does this brat think she’s doing?

I’ve warned myself off of her too many times to count, but I never expected her to come onto me so strongly.

This though… this is as good as a written invitation.

One more step forward, and her body presses up against mine, the space between us evaporating along with my patience.

I pivot and pin her against the worn wood of the barn wall in one smooth movement, slotting my knee between her thighs as she lets out a shocked little gasp.

Her nails dig into my arm, and her other hand clutches at the hem of my shirt.

She’s so fucking tiny , short enough that I have to stoop to meet her eyes, slim enough that I could probably wrap my hands around her waist and have my fingers overlap.

Fuck . I groan just at the thought, leaning down far enough to rest my forehead on hers and stare into those tempting eyes.

“You,” I growl out, pressing even closer, “need to behave , Magnolia.”

Neither of us are behaving. My hands are on her hips, tight enough to bruise, my leg between her thighs as she cants her hips down in aborted little movements. I can feel her fucking breath on my lips when she laughs.

“I’ve never behaved a day in my life,” she replies with a smirk that I want to kiss right off her mouth.

My morals are slipping fast enough that I can feel it. The issues of her being David’s daughter and Bo’s sister and of why I’m here in the first place are fading away as my focus narrows down to nothing but the soft skin beneath my thumb as her shirt rides up.

“You can be a good girl,” I whisper even as she grinds her hips down against my thigh in torturous little circles. “I know you can.”

She grins up at me, antagonistic and inviting all at once, just begging me to put her in her place. “You think so?” she asks sweetly, batting her long blonde lashes.

I’m playing right into her hands when I sigh and squeeze my hands down over her slim hips even tighter, but I can’t stop myself.

“You shouldn’t tease people like me, sweet Magnolia,” I croon, forgetting that I’m supposed to at least by trying to behave instead of inviting her to be even brattier. “If you can’t behave, you’re going to find out what bad girls get. Wouldn’t you rather be good?”

She snakes a hand up and wraps it around the nape of my neck before I can even flinch, and she looks me straight in my eyes when she says, “I’d rather get what I want, Bennett.”

And then she closes the last inch of distance between us, taking my mouth with hers.

She tastes like toothpaste and leftover lip gloss, and I can’t stop the moan that rumbles up from my chest when her lips part beneath mine.

I pull her impossibly closer to my chest, drinking down the gasp that tumbles from her mouth.

Nothing has ever tasted as good as she does, forbidden fruit so sweet on my tongue.

Her body is lax and eager against mine, her hips jolting when my fingers crush down over them.

I tear away before I can lose my head entirely, wrapping a hand around her slim throat to keep her in place.

Her pulse pounds beneath my fingers, all excitement and arousal. My cock twitches in my jeans, well past half-hard and begging me to bury myself deep inside her. God, how fast would her pulse get when I make her cum?

Fuck, I need to stop this train of thought, now .

“You’re going to get both of us in a lot of trouble,” I warn her. She grins at me like it’s a promise. “I’m serious, Maggie. If you’re not careful, I could do some very dangerous things to you.”

I flex my fingers around her throat to make my point, but she just shivers and presses even further into my hold, her eyes going hazy with want.

Those pretty lashes flutter with excitement, and I have to use every ounce of self control to stop myself from squeezing down harder.

I didn’t expect to echo my own penchant for a little bit of roughness, and the desire sparking in her gaze makes it hard to tell myself to stop.

“Come on, Bennett,” she whispers, smiling up at me so sweetly. “That’s not going to stop me. I’ve always liked danger.”

Need flares bright in my chest at her confession, and my restraint snaps.

I crowd her even further against the wall, slotting my lips over hers in a furious, hungry kiss.

She whimpers into it, her whole body writhing as she tries to yank me impossibly closer.

I’ve never wanted someone so badly in my entire life, my cock throbbing in my jeans, so hard it’s painful.

Her hips grind down against my leg, the silk of her shorts make the glide easy.

I urge her movements on with my hands, helping her angle herself perfectly to take her pleasure.

It’s not until her hips snap forward far enough to press into my own that reality hits me. The brush of warm skin just over the straining bulge in my jeans is a stark reminder of what this all leads to.

I shove her back, one hand on her hips and one on her throat, both of us panting with desire.

I can’t do this. I can’t let her do this either. She’s too young for me, and she’s my boss’s daughter. My friend’s sister. Anything more than this is asking for things to blow up. I can’t allow her to tempt me any further.

Any more, and I won’t let her walk away without knowing what every inch of her feels like, inside and out.

I peel my hands off her, ignoring the way she whines as I step back.

My eyes stay pinned to the floor, those ridiculous bunny slippers in my peripheral.

“We can’t do this,” I say quietly, injecting as much steel into my voice as I can manage when my hands are still trembling with need. “I’m serious, Magnolia. We can’t . You need to be good and go back home. Go to bed. Sleep it off.”

Maggie sucks in a shaky breath to argue with me, but I cut her off before she can even start.

“Go to bed, Maggie.”

With that, I turn on my heel and damn near run out of the barn, back toward my trailer. I’m so hard that every step has me flinching, the taste of her lingering on my lips. Her voice fades the further I get from the barn, and I ignore every call of my name and curse flung my way.

If I turn back around now, like fuck I’ll be able to stop.

She’s not the only one who needs to behave, and I can’t let myself slip like that again. There’s too much at stake.

A taste will have to be all I ever get.