Page 33

As soon as my truck pulls up to the Mayberry Manor house Regan’s out the door. No hesitation, no glancing back. Just her cowgirl boots hitting the dirt, her spine stiff, her shoulders tight like she’s trying to make sense of all that’s raging in her head.?

Well, baby, so am I.

I don’t know why she’s jealous of a woman I barely remember, and couldn’t care less about.

I can’t picture her being jealous of anyone I’ve ever talked to, because every one of them would’ve seen the same thing: the way I look at my wife.

The way I was desperate to be alone with Regan all night, just to lose myself in her.

The way I couldn’t stop staring at her, every inch of her, while my head filled with dirty thoughts I shouldn’t say out loud.

By the time I step out my truck, the first clap of thunder rumbles in the distance, rolling through the sky like a warning. Or maybe it’s a challenge. A challenge to everything I thought I knew I want for life when I moved here, and all that I’ve held close to my heart.

Pride.

Fear.

Anger.

Ego.

The things that held me back from thinking I could ever be a good husband. The things that are still telling me that somehow, I’m going to fuck this up and hurt her.

Regan’s already at the front steps of the porch, arms crossed, eyes glaring sharply at me.

“That was a little dramatic, don’t you think? Dragging me home when the party was still going?”

I move toward her, slow and steady, the feel of damp grass grounding me as I take her in. She looks damn good out here, like she belongs in the storm, in the thick of things. Even better when she’s trying to act like she isn’t jealous.

Maybe years ago, I would’ve hated this. Would’ve found it exhausting that some woman was getting worked up over ghosts from my past, acting like they had any claim on me especially when I’d never claim them.

But I’m older now. Wiser, maybe. Gotten a little sense knocked into me along the way.

Maybe from a bull, maybe from my sister.

And Regan?

She isn’t just a pretty face to fuck and I’m just as jealous of every man who’s ever gotten to look at her.

I like her.

I like her family. I like this house we live in together and what we’re doing to rebuild it.

And fuck if I kind of like the way she’s glaring at me over a woman whose name I don’t even remember.

Because the truth is that the only woman I remember from my circuit days is her.

The only name that’s ever called out to me when I replay those wild, careless nights back is hers.

I step onto the porch, stopping two steps below her so that we’re almost eye to eye. Close enough to touch. Close enough to feel the heat rolling off her skin mingled with the scent of rain thick in the air.

“I was ready to take my bride to be home. It was a little... crowded, there. Didn’t like the company.”

She draws in a breath like she’s bracing for something, then tips her face toward the sky.

“You’re jealous because I waved at Declan?” Her voice is quieter now. “But why? This was a marriage of convenience. Declan and I had a long relationship before I got into this fake one.”

That word convenience sticks in my throat like a splinter.

My hands find her waist, fingers spreading over her curves. I smooth down the fabric of her dress, letting my palms memorize the shape of her. The feel of her. There’s a lot I could say right now. A lot that’s stuck in my chest, pressing against my ribs.

Like—

I don’t know why I’m jealous.

I’ve never felt this feeling before.

You blew into my life seven years ago and wrecked me, and I thought I’d never see you again which was the distance that I needed to move forward.

But now that I have, and now that we’re married, and now that I’ve had you in my bed, it all feels— Right. Like nothing just happens by chance and the universe has pushed us back together for a reason that I intend on understanding.

She bites down on her bottom lip, her gaze searching mine. Like she knows . Like she sees every messy, broken piece of me and understands why I’m struggling to find the words.

I’m jealous of her looking at another man.

I’m jealous of the men she’s dated before.

I’m jealous of this damn dress .

I tug on the hem of it firmly, watching the way her breath catches, the way her pulse flutters against her throat.

She doesn’t stop me.

Doesn’t pull away. Just watches me like she’s daring me to do something about what I’m keeping inside and the emotions that I can’t seem to come to terms with.

And I’m furious at the thought of her bringing another man here someday.

To my house.

To my land.

To touch my woman.

Whether it’s that fool Declan or someone else, I’m fucking jealous of that thought.

She draws in a breath, steadying her palms on my shoulders, but I don’t give her a second to overthink it or push me away.

I lift her easily, cradling her against my chest like she was made to be there.

Her legs wrap around my waist just as a bolt of lightning tears across the sky, illuminating everything for a split second.

“We need to get inside before the storm,” I murmur against the soft, smooth skin on her neck. I don’t wait for an answer. Just start moving away from the house, the damp grass crunches under my boots, each step weighted with something inevitable as I move us toward the barn.

Because this— us —it’s going to change things.

Shift the air.

Rearrange the goddamn atmosphere.

When I reach the large, sliding doors, I roll them back and set her down gently.

She takes it all in, eyes sweeping over everything, the work I put in before the rehearsal dinner to get this place in better shape for the tour we’ll give tomorrow before the wedding to the prospective brides and grooms.

“Wow… you really cleaned it up nicely.” There’s admiration in her voice, as she moves around the space, inspecting the stalls and smiling softly.

She breathes in deeply. “It smells like hay and horses even though you don’t have them yet.

I’ve missed this. Can’t wait to ride again. It’s been so long.”

I step toward her slowly, tracking her movements and the way her chest rises with each breath and her blue eyes sparkle like a kid.

She’s so perfect . A fucking dream of a woman, and I can’t figure out why I keep telling myself that I can’t give her everything she wants.

Is it possible that I could? Is it possible that we could have something real without me fucking it all up?

“Turn around,” I murmur softly.

Her shock melts into a smile. The kind that says she wants this just as badly as I do.

The confidence she wore the night that we first met is written all over her face as she obeys.

Her hands brace against a bale of hay. Back arches, offering herself up like she knows I live for this.

I step behind her, hands finding her hips, gripping tight.

She tosses her dark auburn hair over one shoulder, looking back at me, lips parted.

“Are you finally going to fuck me?”

I nod, my voice rougher. “Yeah, baby, I am. And you’re going to take every inch of me just like you did seven years ago.”

Her eyes spark, full of challenge. “Then what the hell are you waiting for?”

Fuck.

She’s throwing my own words back at me, and damn if it doesn’t make me want her even more.

I chuckle darkly, pushing her dress up over her hips, revealing soft skin and a scrap of white lace that barely covers her ass crack and pussy.

I push her thong aside roughly, letting it rub against her clit, knowing she feels everything.

“Make a mess of these panties, baby. I’m leaving them on.”

Then I sink two fingers deep into her pussy, groaning at how wrecked she already is for me. Dripping down my fingers. Soaking for me. She squeezes my fingers giving me a preview of how good it’s going to feel once my cock is buried inside her.

I find her clit with my other hand, rubbing slow, teasing circles until she’s grinding against me, hips rocking backwards, chasing more. My cock is so hard it’s fucking painful, so I pull back just enough to shove down my pants, my fingers still inside her, still working her open.

I fist myself, dragging the bare tip against the curve of her ass, over her thighs, feeling how smooth and soft she is against my skin, how ready she is.

“Let me get a condom, baby.”

I reach down into my pocket, pull out my phone, fingers brushing the foil packet tucked at the edges.

Regan snickers. “It’s not expired, is it?”

And just like that, pure panic slams through me. Because it’s been a fucking minute since I’ve done this between finishing school, moving to Whitewood Creek and starting my new job. Me and my hand have become best friends these past few months and I haven’t had the time to date or talk to women.

I check the date.

Bold black letters staring back at me.

Expired. Five months ago.

“Dammit.”

“Oh my God ,” she laughs, still bent over the bale of hay, her thick ass jiggling with each laugh she releases. “It’s really expired?”

“Don’t gloat.”

She snorts. “I was kidding —but good to know.”

I squeeze one of her ass cheeks hard enough to get a gasp from her. Then she turns to face me, her expression shifting, eyes serious. “Fuck me raw.”

My brain short-circuits. “What?”

“I trust you.” Her voice is steady. No hesitation.

“I’ve been tested since I ended things with Declan, plus I’ve never had sex without a condom before.

I don’t want you walking all the way back to the house to try to find another expired one.

I’m turned on , and I want you. I trust you.

” She wets her lips. “Just pull out before you come.”

Fuck me. Because never—not once in my life—have I done this before. Not with anyone in my forty-one years of life. Never have I trusted anyone enough to.

But Regan, flushed cheeks, still in that damn rehearsal dinner dress, looking like a fever dream, has me reconsidering everything and not just sex. Reconsidering everything I thought I believed.

I spin her back around, pressing a firm hand between her shoulder blades until she’s bent over again. Then I raise my palm and smack her ass, hard.

She gasps. “What was that for?”

“For laughing when you realized my condom was expired.”

Then I thrust two fingers back into her dripping heat, twisting them, finding that perfect spot inside her that has her breaking apart. She whimpers, clutching at the hay.

“It’s expired because I haven’t been fucking around, Regan. Do you understand?”

She nods, breathless. “Yeah. I do.”

Because you’re the exception.

“And you trust me despite my past to take you raw?”

Another nod.

I ease in a third finger, feel her stretch, tight and perfect around me. It’s going to be a tight fit, so I need her to relax, to get comfortable with these fingers before I take her the way that I’ve been wanting to.

“But do you trust me?” she asks.

That stops me cold. Because trusting a woman? That’s never been in my nature. But with Regan, I think I do . So, I don’t answer her. I show her.

Lining myself up at her entrance, I feel her slick arousal coat the head of my cock and it’s almost too much.

I grip the base, squeezing tight, trying to slow myself down, trying to pretend like I have any control here when she could tell me to do anything, and I’d do it.

Because once I’m inside of her— bare —I know it’s fucking over for me. Regan takes the control then.

I flick the tip of my cock and tilt my head to the ceiling, telling myself I can do this. And then I push into her pussy, sinking halfway into a fucking tunnel of pleasure.

“Fuck . ” I groan, watching her body stretch around me, taking me.

Regan gasps. “You’re so big, Hayes. You’ve always been the biggest.”

“And you feel so fucking good.” I pull back slightly, watching my cock slide out, dripping with her pussy, glistening in the dim barn lighting. White. Clear. Slick and so much. “Damn, Regan, you’re making a mess of me.”

She moans as I push back in, deeper this time. I grip her hips hard, using the leverage to keep myself grounded, but nothing can keep me tethered to reality when she feels like this. My feet tingle from my boots up to my hips.

“I want to take my time with you,” I grit out. “But I can’t. It’s too sensitive without a condom.”

“So don’t.” Her voice is wrecked. Needy . “Give me more. Fuck me hard.”

I try to ease out, push back in slow, but it’s a losing battle. Her tight pussy squeezes me, and the last shred of my control snaps.

I rear back and fuck her.

Desperate. Wild. Unhinged.

She’s taking it all, her body trembling, her moans filling the barn, drowning under the sound of the rain hammering against the metal roof.

“I’m gonna—shit, Hayes —I’m coming,” she cries out, and before I can even catch up, she’s shattering around me. Her orgasm rips through her, her body clenching down on my cock like she owns it. Like she owns me.

And fuck , I love that she couldn’t hold out for me.

I love that it happened so fast for her too and the feel of her tight, pulsing walls send me flying over the edge.

I yank out at the last second, shoving two fingers inside her to keep her climax rolling as I fist my cock, jerking rough, desperate strokes until I spill everywhere.

Thick ropes of cum splatter across the fresh-swept barn floor as I groan through clenched teeth.

“Fucking… shit .”

It’s the biggest load I’ve ever seen, dripping into the cracks of the wood, sticking there. I wonder if it’ll dry there like some sort of sexual memorabilia. I kind of hope it does.

She’s panting. I’m panting.

And when she finally straightens to stand, my fingers slip out of her with a wet, satisfying squelch.

I glance down.

Her own come is dripping down her thighs, sliding over her skin like it’s desperate to join mine on the floor and when the two touch, it’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.

The rain pounds harder against the roof, the barn air thick with humidity and the smell of sex. There’s something dangerous happening between us now but neither of us care anymore.

I grip the back of her neck and pull her in, crushing my mouth over hers, kissing her deeply like I can’t get enough.

Her fingers tangle in my hair, tugging, sending a sharp jolt of pleasure down my spine as our tongues touch. Then she snatches my cowboy hat off my head and plops it on hers.

A wicked grin spreads across her lips.

“Wear the hat, ride the cowboy, right?”

And before I can react, she spins on her heel and takes off straight into the spring storm. Rain pelts down on her, soaking through the thin dress she’s still wearing as she heads straight toward our home.

I laugh, shaking my head before bolting out after her. There goes my wife.