Page 14 of The First Day of Breeding Season (Wildfire Ranch #4)

DREW

The questions still radiate off Brynn even when she goes silent.

She’s so fucking eager. And sweet. And smart.

And Blade’s little girl.

I don’t know how to square that with the aching need I have to claim her and make her mine.

If only we were animals, it wouldn’t be this complicated.

In some ways, we’re part of the same herd. There are so many threads of connection between us. Her father was my mentor. My brother was her favorite professor.

I should be more comfortable just guiding her in life. Letting her find a future worthy of all of her potential. A young husband, a dozen kids.

She doesn’t want a husband. She wants a donor.

I open my mouth to…what? Ask her if she wants kids? Confess that I accidentally saw the letter in her research folder? Offer to breed her myself, but on the condition that she never leave my bed?

Definitely not that one. I can’t say that one.

But she has another question, and the opportunity is gone.

“Why can’t you look at me?”

“I can,” I say carefully.

“You aren’t.”

Fair point. I grunt in acknowledgement.

“You should, you know. Look at me.” Her voice is full of steel.

I almost smile. Almost. “Should I?”

“Are you afraid of what you’ll see?”

It’s more accurate that I’m afraid of what I’ll do . But sure. I shrug and then nod.

“Because you knew my dad.” The fact that she’s having both sides of this conversation doesn’t seem to bother her, so I let her have another nod.

He’d want better for her.

I don’t say that out loud, because I don’t want her to argue that I’m a pretty successful rancher. That’s beside the point. She can’t see the parts of me that aren’t acceptable for her.

I take a deep breath and change the subject. “Tell me about your tattoo.”

“Okay. It’s pretty wild that we have matching tattoos, isn’t it? Especially because yours is probably the same age as me.”

“Older,” I grind out.

She makes a pleased little sound that makes my dick go hard.

I cross my arms over my chest. “And just how fucking fresh is yours?”

“I got it almost four years ago, on my eighteenth birthday. I didn’t know there would be someone else out there with the same one. Kind of weird to think about us sharing a tattoo for so long and having no idea, huh?”

Yeah. It’s fucking weird as hell.

I rub at the back of my neck. “How’d you pick it?”

“I have his sketches. A dozen notebooks. The rope has always been my favorite.”

“Must have been one of his first sketches that you saw.” I kick my heel against the ground and step forward, right to the edge of the tarp. The wind blows raindrops on my overheated skin. “Probably at the front of a sketchbook or something, right?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Brynn turn to stare at me. “Why do you say it like that?”

I growl something that doesn’t rise to the standard of words , but functions just as effectively as a rejection of the premise.

And then I stalk into the rain, because there’s only so much earnest, smart girl energy I can withstand before I do something incredibly stupid.

“Hey!”

I ignore her, which is really fucking hard to do.

“You’re getting wet!”

That’s fine. Maybe the rain will wash the lust fever away.

I tip my face up to the sky, letting the cool water slash under the brim of my hat.

“Do you want our connection to be an accident that badly?” Brynn asks breathlessly from right behind me.

Yes .

“I knew as soon as I saw your tattoo that I was meant to be here.”

“As a student ,” I roar, turning around. “Not as temptation.”

She just stares at me.

She’s getting soaked, too, her long-sleeved t-shirt plastered to her soft, curvy body.

No amount of roaring is going to scare this brave little girl away, because after a long, glaring beat, she smiles.

Smiles.

And it’s like the sun fucking breaks through the rainstorm.

“I tempt you?”

“Don’t look so delighted.”

“I’m sure I’m not your usual type of woman, but?—”

“I don’t have a…type.” I stumble over the word. “That’s not the issue.”

“Then tell me what the problem is, Drew. And I’ll tell you why it’s not.” Her voice is hypnotic now.

My knees almost give out when she closes the gap between us and lays her little hand on my hard chest.

“You should look at a man like me and see nothing but red flags.”

“Such as?”

“I’ve never been in a relationship.”

Her fingers curl into the wet cotton of my shirt. “Why not?”

My ears turn red.

“You should tell me,” she breathes as she tightens her fingers into a fist. “I won’t tell anyone, ever.”

I bet all my secrets would be safe with her, even if they pushed her away. Even if she saw the worst of me, I bet she’d protect me all the same.

But that’s my job.

I need to protect her…from myself.

“Want me to go first?” She pulls at my shirt, and I don’t move, but it feels good to have her yank at me like that.

Too good.

“I should take you over my knee.”

She laughs! “Or you could kiss me.”

“You don’t need me to kiss you. You need…”

“Do you want to take me over your knee and punish me?” How does she make the word punish sound so damn erotic?

“Not punish, sweetheart.” I hear the words from a distance.

“Then what?”

“I want to focus you on what really matters.”

“And what’s that?”

“Your future, baby. Not some distraction.”

“Kissing you wouldn’t be a distraction.” And this time when she tugs on my shirt, pulling me down to her level, I don’t resist.

She reels me in, until I’m curved over her, until my arms are around her, holding her tight, because if I don’t she’ll fall.

She trusts me too much.

Somehow, holding on to the thinnest thread of self-control, I don’t kiss her.

She swipes rain out of her eyes, and I shift closer still. Just to cover her face with the brim of my hat, I tell myself.

Not to bring her into a tight little cocoon of my body. That’s an accident.

Except it feels pretty fucking intentional the way I plaster every soft inch of her to my wet chest.

And she knows it.

Searching my face, Brynn licks her lips, fire spiking in her determined gaze.

“My secret is that I like how you look at me. I like how you find me a challenge. I like you , and I want your attention. When you look at me it makes me want to twirl in circles, so fast my dress flies up and shows you my panties.”

“Last night…” My voice is hoarse. “You showed me…”

“I tried, Drew. I tried to show you. Because…” She laughs a little, her eyes wild now. “I poured over those sketchbooks for years, and I always came back to a frayed rope in the middle of one of the books. I knew that was the one. I knew you were the one, too.”

“The one for what?”

“For me.”

Those two simple words shift something deep inside me. The rain pounds against my shoulders, but I barely feel it.

She’s looking up with wide, trusting eyes that see right through every wall I’ve built.

I should warn her off again.

Maybe I should make good on my threat to turn her ass pink.

Her tight hold on my shirt relaxes, and her hands push up and around my neck, leaving trails of fire despite the cold rain. She rises on her tiptoes, bringing her lips so close I can feel her breath mingling with mine. “Kiss me, Drew. Stop fighting this.”

I break like a bursting dam, crashing my mouth down on hers. Her lips part instantly beneath mine, eager and welcoming, and I’m lost. I’m starving for her, like half a day is too long already.

I back her against the nearest tree, shielding her from the rain with my body, one hand tangling in her wet hair while the other grips her hip. Every boundary I’ve set is crumbling, every promise I made to myself shattered by the way she melts against me, the way her tongue slides against mine.

And when she makes a small, desperate sound against my mouth, I tilt my hips to give her the hard ridge of my cock, hoping that will sooth her primal need.

Instead, it lights her on fire.

She claws at my shoulders, moaning my name as her head tips back against the tree.

Breathing hard, I press my face into the long stretch of her neck. “You need that, sweetheart?”

She moans again. Yes .

And it’s permission of a sort. This isn’t for me. I’m not taking. I’m not pushing her into the mud and rutting into her like a mad bull.

Make it good for her.

“Spread your legs for me,” I rasp. “Hitch up high, I’ve got you.”

She wriggles in my arms, lifting her thighs, letting me hold her against the tree.

I lick and suck at her neck, feeling her pulse against my tongue, listening to her pleasure. The little gasps and moans she makes are the only sounds that matter in this world. They’re my guide to getting this right.

This is wrong—she’s Blade’s daughter, my responsibility for the summer, too young, too good—but my cock doesn’t care about right and wrong anymore.

My fingers dig into her soft flesh as I work my hips between hers, dragging my cock against the cleft of her body.

Riding her like a service bull, like she’s a fresh heifer in her first heat.

“Drew, right there, oh?—”

“Fucking hell, Brynn. Is that it? Is that your perfect spot? Can you feel how hard I am for you even through our jeans?”

Her hand slaps at my shoulder. Grabs next, squeezing tight against my straining muscle. Bearing down.

And then her mouth finds mine again, and we’re kissing so deeply I’m tongue fucking her.

She tastes like sweet rain and forbidden desire.

I get one of my hands up her sodden shirt and find her wearing nothing but a cotton little bralette underneath. Her nipple is hard, a tight point against my questing fingertips.

She moans into my mouth as I pinch that precious peak.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” I promise. “You can come. Ride my cock. Ride Daddy’s cock.”

She gasps and pulls away, her eyes wide as she stares at me.

I’m breathing so hard, my cock throbbing so intensely, I don’t realize what I’ve said.

No. No, no, no…

But then she grabs at me, both of her hands on my face, and she’s pulling me in for another kiss. Sucking on my tongue, nipping at my lips.

Hungry little minx. Daddy’s little minx.

Gonna rope this one and keep her forever.

My hands flex hard against her sweet flesh. Her tit. Her ass.

Mine.

“Daddy,” she pants in between licks. “Daddy, please.”

I don’t know what she needs. Harder? Faster? I try both. Slower? I try that, too, and that drives her wild.

Yes, my girl likes it slow. And hard.

She likes it in the rain, and she likes it when there’s two layers of denim between us.

I just pray like hell I’ll find a way to make sure she likes it when I have her spread bare beneath me, too.

With a spasming cry, she comes apart in my arms. I follow, my dick spurting seed all over my lower belly.