Page 43 of Stormswept Colorado (Hart County #3)

THIRTY-SEVEN

Teller

“A liar? What do you mean?”

“I didn’t run away.”

Confusion kept me from responding. But maybe I wasn’t supposed to say anything yet.

She struggled to get the words out. “That night. When I was sixteen. The night I left. The colonel, my dad, when he saw me on the porch with Roy Carpenter…”

“I remember you telling me about it.” I petted the back of her head, thinking what Ayla had shared already about the night she left home. How she’d babysat a neighbor boy. Sergeant Carpenter, the kid’s father, walked her home afterward. Tried to force a kiss on her.

“The colonel called me names.” She swallowed, as if she wanted to push the words back down, but they kept coming. “ Trash and slut and whore .” Her body shook like each one was a blow.

“Sweetheart,” I whispered. Wishing I could take that pain away.

“And then he told me…told me that was the last straw. Told me to pack a bag and be gone by the morning. I wasn’t welcome there. He kicked me out. Threw me away.” She was crying .

I held her tighter. Kissed her hair, so she knew I was here. I was listening.

“I felt like the shame would swallow me up. I couldn’t bear to tell Lori.

That’s why I didn’t wait for her to get home.

I wrote her a note, saying I was running away, but it was a lie.

People think I made some brave choice, chose my music, but I didn’t.

I left because my dad didn’t want me. I’ve been lying ever since. ”

“Nobody could blame you for that. You protected yourself.”

“But that night still lives inside me. This…shadow over me. That’s why the first message from Biggest Fan terrified me so much. The photo of me from back then. I didn’t want anyone to know.”

I could imagine Ayla at sixteen. She’d probably had something magical about her, even then. Roy Carpenter saw her light and tried to steal it for himself. And the colonel, in his twisted way, was jealous of his daughter. Wanted to snuff her light out and escape it.

“You didn’t let those men smash your dreams. You kept going.”

“But no matter how successful I am, how many adoring fans are screaming my name, I still hear my father telling me to get out of his house. How he never wanted to see me again. He didn’t love me .”

Oh, hell. I understood now. The best I could understand, anyway. What it would mean to Ayla if I said I loved her.

Fans and admirers said they loved her on a daily basis, but they didn’t truly know her.

If I ever changed my mind, took my love back, threw her away , then it would destroy her.

“Ayla? Can you look at me?”

Slowly, she raised her head. Revealing bloodshot eyes and tear-streaked cheeks.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Teller— ”

“Shhh,” I soothed, rubbing circles into her back. “You did the best that you could. Every step of the way.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I see you. You’re brave and passionate and you never give up. That’s why I fell in love with you.”

She shuddered as she inhaled. “You can’t say that unless you?—”

“I’m sure. I love you. I love Ayla Hopkins, Ayla Maxwell, every version of you. I’ll never hurt you, and I’ll never leave you or push you away.”

Silent tears poured down her face. “How can you be real?”

“I’m sitting right here.”

“I want to believe you. I really do.”

I wiped her tears. “I hope you believe it. But everything I said is true either way.” My fingers stroked through her hair. “Now, I’d like to take you upstairs and be good to you. How does that sound? Nothing but pleasure for you for the rest of tonight.”

“Perfect,” she said on a sigh. A stuttering breath followed. She was worn out from crying. “I’ve never felt better than when I’m with you.”

That settled it. I had to find a way for us to be together. I’d already known that in theory. I’d wanted it.

But now, it was essential.

I was never going to leave this woman. The rest of the world would have to bend, because I wouldn’t.

“Arms around my neck,” I said. I picked her up, switching off lights along the way as I carried her upstairs.

Her bedroom was spacious, decorated in neutral colors, with artwork on the walls and potted plants hanging in planters by the windows.

Carrying her into the en suite, I set her on her feet and started the faucets in the huge tub.

I got rid of my T-shirt, tossing it through the doorway into the bedroom.

Then I went to my knees in front of her. Reminded me of the time I’d knelt on the tile floor of the shower in Hartley and buried my mouth between her legs. I loved worshipping her. Craved it .

Somehow, I’d never felt like more of a man than when I was on my knees for this woman.

I eased down her pants. She stepped out of them. I lifted her loose top and reached up to help her pull it off. With more of her skin uncovered, I pressed kisses to her belly, thighs. Ran my hands over her. Ayla held on to my shoulders and whimpered, but it was a sound of contentment.

When I unhooked her bra, then tugged her panties down her hips, my touch was more caring than sexual. I mean, my cock was rigid against the fly of my jeans. Uncomfortably constricted. But this was about Ayla. Showing my love while expecting nothing in return.

Another kiss to her stomach. “I love you,” I murmured against her skin. She stroked my hair and shivered. “You’re mine, sweetheart. I take care of what’s mine.”

Standing, I picked her up and set her in the warm water of the tub. Ayla relaxed immediately, eyes sinking closed. I switched off the faucets. Had her lie back to wet her hair, then grabbed a bottle of shampoo. She moaned softly as I massaged suds into her scalp.

Caring for her this way was an indulgence for me too. Watching the open, unguarded expression on her face. How beautifully she responded to me.

After washing her body and rinsing her clean, I helped her out of the tub. Wrapped her in a big, fluffy towel. We both brushed our teeth to get ready for bed.

Then I carried her to the bedroom, set her on the edge of the mattress, and switched on a bedside lamp. Ayla seemed more tired and quiet than usual, which made sense. Her confession had taken a lot out of her. I just hoped she was taking comfort from me.

“Which drawer are your pajamas in?” I asked. “I’d better get you dressed and under the covers.”

“Wait.” Ayla pushed the towel from her shoulders, letting it pool around her hips. Revealing her gorgeous curves. “I want to feel you. ”

Arousal flooded my veins. My cock swelled again. “You’re tired. We have all weekend.”

“No, I need this.” She brought her hand to my bare chest, palm flat over my beating heart. “Teller, would you make love to me?”

Fuck. I unbuttoned my jeans. Pushed them off with my boxer briefs, my cock long and thick, my desire for her so clear to see.

Ayla lay back on the bed, knees parted.

“I’ll make you feel me,” I murmured gently, my tone blunting the force of my words. My fist closed around my shaft and gave it a few strokes, my thumb teasing over the head as I crawled onto the mattress and between her open legs. “I’ll spend the rest of my life making love to you, if you want me.”

Then I covered Ayla’s naked body with mine and slanted my mouth onto hers with a deep kiss.

In that Hartley hotel room, weeks and weeks ago, we’d been wild together. The sex we’d had that weekend had been the best of my life. Today was different.

And somehow, even better.

We touched each other for ages. Until neither of us could wait any longer. She gasped as my cock stretched her. Ayla’s legs gripped my waist, and her arms clung to me as I circled her with mine and held her as tightly as I could.

We were a tangle of limbs and sweaty skin, our edges blurring. No beginning and no end.

Just shared heat. Movement. Pleasure.

I wanted this to last. The two of us locked together, holding back the rest of the world.

I lifted onto my hands, arms straight, so I could stare down at her. Watch my hips thrusting, our bodies linked in such perfect harmony. “You ready to come for me?”

The pointed tips of her nails raked down my back. “I’m so close. Please . I—I need?—”

“I know. I’ve got you.” I held her thighs beneath her knees, pushing her legs up to her chest as my cock glided in and out of her.

Hell, that was tight. Her damp hair splayed over her pillow, drying into blond curls. Her eyes were hooded, lips plump and pink from our kisses. She stretched her arms over her head to brace against the headboard.

“My good, sweet little Troublemaker,” I whispered.

The way she gave herself to me was so beautiful.

But this union, the wholeness that I felt with Ayla, like we were two incomplete pieces that were meant to fit together—that was even more incredible.

Her mouth opened on a cry of ecstasy. Her body clenched on my cock. Tingles raked down my spine.

My orgasm moved through me like a strike of lightning. Sudden and hot, then washing over me like rolls of thunder. I pumped my love into Ayla. Marking her as mine. No one else’s.

That beat of possessiveness in my heart, in my brain, raised the pleasure even higher.

And I was hers. All of me.

Always.