Page 10 of The First Day of Breeding Season (Wildfire Ranch #4)

DREW

It’s so hard to rip myself up off her soft, trembling body. The yearning in her eyes was an invitation I wanted to grab with both hands.

But she’s my responsibility, and I have to deal with her leg first.

“I’ll be right back,” I say thickly.

Her gaze drags down my body as I stand, to where my erection strains at the front of my jeans.

My tongue isn’t the only body part that’s grown heavy just from holding her.

She’s hurt, and I’m hard as rocks.

Great.

Just fucking great.

My cock has simmered down to an aching half-chub by the time I return with tweezers, a bowl of soapy water, a cup of tea because I’ve heard tea bags help with the swelling, and an ointment that will take the sting away.

She’s rolled onto her belly, her one remaining booted foot cocked in the air precociously, her bare leg extended straight out.

“Ready for my first aid,” she says brightly as I kneel beside her with my supplies.

I laugh under my breath. “I’m glad to hear it doesn’t hurt so much you can’t be cute.”

She twists her head to look at me. “You think I’m cute?”

I grunt.

She smiles. “That’s a yes.” She takes a deep breath. “I’m learning how to speak Drew Lowry already.”

I grab the tweezers. “Is that so?”

“Yeah.” She holds her breath as I extract the stinger, then flops forward while I wash the welt with the warm water.

The skirt of her sundress rides up the back of her sturdy little thighs. She’s so lush, so achingly…fertile.

She looks fucking fertile.

The words from that letter burn on my retinas, floating over the backs of her legs.

So easy to imagine her pulling her dress up, presenting her sweet little cunt for me. Letting me see how ready she is for a baby. Letting me have a good, long sniff of her ripe scent.

She squeaks, and I realize I’ve squeezed the washcloth so tightly, water is rolling down her calf and onto the bed.

“Fuck, sorry,” I rasp.

I grab another washcloth, a dry one, and blot the duvet cover, then her leg.

When I press the tea bag to the bite, and then put the ointment on, I keep my gaze firmly on her injury, and not the off-limits temptation just a little higher up.

“There you go,” I manage to say. I force myself off her bed.

“Thank you.” She glances back at me. “Am I stuck in this position? I have some antihistamine pills in my backpack.”

“I’ll get them for you. And some water. Then you can, uh, go to bed.”

“I know we need to get up early, but I’m not that tired…”

Fuck me. The invitation in her words is so clear.

Fuck. Me.

I let it simmer in my chest as I take the supplies back to the kitchen, and fill a water glass for her. I feel the thump thump thump of desire in my arteries.

I should tell her how long it’s been since I’ve wanted someone like this.

I should tell her I’m not going to be good at whatever it is she wants, and then she can let me down gently—I know she’d be so sweet about it—and we’ll spend the rest of the summer bittersweetly and resolutely focused on work. The thing I am good at.

I’m going to be the best mentor to her.

But fuck me, I wish I could be more. I wish I could be her mate, her husband, the one who got to put babies in her and take care of her as she nurtures them.

When I return to her room, resolved be as honest as I can, she’s rolled over.

And her sundress is all twisted around her body, revealing a flash of white cotton panties.

I stop in the doorway like a stunned ox.

She blushes as she fixes her dress, but her gaze…her sweet, sexy, confident gaze doesn’t break.

“I got my pills myself,” she whispers, holding up a little white tablet.

Pulse pounding, I cross to her as she pops it into her mouth.

I hold out the water, but instead of taking it in her hands, she leans in and presses her lips to the rim.

Cock throbbing, I carefully tip the glass until she has enough water.

Holding my gaze, she swallows the pill like a good girl.

And my restraint breaks.

I manage to get the glass to the side table before I take her face in my hands and crush my lips to her, tasting the cool drops of water that remain and the hot, needy woman who is instantly kissing me back.

“Drew, please,” she begs between licks.

I don’t know what she’s asking for. I’m so fucking afraid of breaking her.

“Just let me kiss you,” I rumble.

She whimpers and nods, going soft beneath me.

I lean over further and further, until she’s lying on the bed and I’m kneeling over her, very aware of her tits pressing against the elastic neckline of her sundress that looks like I could pull it down and kiss her somewhere other than her mouth.

We’re both shaking as I push my mouth against hers a little harder, hungrier. Trying to keep this as just enough, because I can’t trust myself to do anything else—even though we both want it, both need it.

“God damn ,” I whisper against her lips. “Didn’t see you coming, sweetheart. You’re so fucking sweet.”

She giggles.

I inhale her laugh, using it to stabilize my raging desire.

I can give her a bit more.

Just a little bit more pleasure.

I kick off my boots, thinking I’ll stretch out beside her, and then I hook my hand around her leg that wasn’t stung.

“No, wait—” She twists, protesting, but I’ve already tugged her remaining boot off.

She goes still as my gaze falls to black ink wrapping around her ankle.

My confused exhale is so fucking loud rasping into the quiet.

I tighten my grip on her leg and drag my hand down her calf, until the frayed rope around my wrist meets the matching frayed rope on her ankle.

Blood roars in my ears, dragging me back twenty-two years.

To a rickety wooden chair, made stable with a pack of matches shoved under one leg so it didn’t move while Blade moved his tattoo gun over my wrist. Being brave. Pretending it didn’t hurt, because I wanted ink. So fucking desperate to prove I was a man.

I’d been at Tenth Circle Ranch for a year, and I’d proven myself a hard worker.

At some point, Blade figured out I was lying about my age, and instead of ratting me out, he took me under his wing. He told me to stop chasing after women when I wasn’t ready yet, and focus on what really mattered.

I tied a rope around my wrist as a reminder of his wisdom, and when he asked me what I wanted for ink, I knew it was that.

How the fuck does this girl have the exact same design wrapped around her pretty little ankle?

With a rough tug, I haul her to the end of the bed, keeping a tight hold on her leg.

Her sundress rides up to her waist, and she doesn’t push it down, doesn’t try to hide those intoxicating white panties that I shouldn’t be looking at.

They stretch smooth from one lush hip to the other, pulling taut over a puffy mound.

I want to drop to my knees and press my face to that soft cotton cover.

I need her.

But I need answers more. So I crawl on top of her and pin her hands to the bed. “You recognized my tattoo.”

“I can explain,” she whispers.

“You better start.”

She hesitates, but then nods and takes a deep breath, her breasts lifting and brushing against my chest.

“I think my dad did it?” Her voice lifts in a question, a note of uncertainty that makes everything worse, because I’m pinning her down and her bare legs are spread for me.

Blade’s last name wasn’t Hughes. But he did have a little girl, a year after he put that tattoo on my wrist. I’d moved on to another ranch by that point, and I never met her. Didn’t know her name. But the timing is about right.

And so very wrong.

Suddenly, I know what she’s going to say next. “I…I never knew him.”

Fuck.

Fuck me.

I scramble off her body, off her bed, and shove my hands into my hair.

“Drew, it’s okay,” she says, climbing onto her knees.

Her skirt tumbling down, covering her panties.

It’s not.

Blade’s little girl is all grown up?

“Why is your name Hughes?” I manage to ask.

“My mom re-married after he died. It was easier, I guess.”

I feel like I’ve been kicked in the chest by an angry stallion.

“I’m so sorry.” I shake my head. “For everything.”

For her dad’s early passing.

For lusting after her.

For kissing her.

“No, don’t?—”

I search for my hat, which tumbled to the floor at some point. I lean over to pick it up from where it landed next to her open backpack.

My eyes catch on a binder in the bag.

The Five Year Brynn Plan .

There are a lot of tabbed sections, and I can’t read all of them, but it’s enough of a reminder that this girl has her whole life ahead of her, and she wants a lot out of it.

As she should.

Standing, I point the hat in Brynn’s general direction, although I can’t look at her. Not directly. Not right now. I’ll work on that for tomorrow. I ignore the way my hand shakes. “He was my mentor. You should know he was the best of men.”

“Drew…”

“I can’t.” My voice cracks then. “We’ll load the trailers first thing. Yeah?”

I don’t wait for her to answer.