Chance of Rain (14 page)

“You really do like that,” she said with wonder. He was kinkier than he let on, but in the most domestic of ways. Things like watching her clean, having her serve him food—things she would have done anyway, even if they weren’t aphrodisiacs to him.

“Too much,” he grunted, surging into her. “I like it too much. You don’t mind, do you?”

“No,” she said between gasps. “I want a family and you want to get me pregnant. I’d say it’s convenient.”

His laugh burst around her, like clouds into rain, breaking the storm. “My sweet girl. My practical, crazy girl. Love you.”

The words unleashed some sort of dam within him, and then he was moving against her, inside her, wave upon wave. She said it back on every crest. “I. Love. You.” She wasn’t sure he could hear above his grunts, but it was there in her movements, in her
lack
of movements. Her submission to him came naturally, without any resistance, any stubbornness. But there was pride, so much pride in doing so. He was beautiful, strong and all hers, and being under him made her feel beautiful and strong, as well.

Afterward they lay tangled together as she felt his breathing even. Something kept her awake. Despite her impassioned words earlier, she was not yes to giraffes. She was pretty much a no when it came to giraffes on what she was coming to think of as her farm.

It’s one thing to run a farm and another thing entirely to bring it back to life
, Lucy had said.

There wasn’t enough time, not for him, not for her. She had never wanted to be alone, but she never had been. Even when she pushed her friends away, they had found a way to help her. Stronger now, surer, she could learn from their example.

* * *

The next day Sawyer woke up hard and hurting. Even asleep, his body was aware of her, primed by her, thick and already pearling liquid for her. She lay on her side, facing away, one leg reaching over the other, the shadow of her sex visible and alluring from behind.

Reaching over, he knocked everything off her bedside table in his haste, but managed to catch his wallet. Rolling on a condom, he tugged her onto her stomach. He slipped his fingers inside her, checking her readiness. Still damp and pliant from their exertions all night, her body welcomed him with a moan.

This was how he’d taken her last night. It had felt primal, from behind, like a claiming. It had been a relief. Finally, she was his
.
But now he wanted her open to him, spread for him. He turned her over, deriving satisfaction from the sluggish weight of her limbs and the sleepy smile she gifted him.

Her eyes fluttered open. “G’morning.”

“Don’t wake up.”

Her voice was like fine brandy, thick and smooth. “You’re inside me.”

He glanced down where his body met hers, where the coarse hair of his groin pressed against the velvety smoothness of hers, where the rubber-clad base of his cock peeked from between her pink flesh. Yeah, he was inside her. “I’m preparing you. You’re going to spend all day in bed, so get comfortable.”

“I have to open the diner.”

“Let Barry do it.”

“If I call him, he’ll know you’re up here. Having sex with me.”

“And?” He pulled out and then pushed back in slowly, savoring the way her plump tissues parted for him. Then again. He was grateful she didn’t stop him, because he couldn’t have stopped—not now, not ever. His cock had made itself at home inside Natalie. Inside Natalie was warm and wet, the perfect fit.

Her eyes glazed. “Um. What?”

“Everyone will know we’re together soon enough.”

“Mmm.” Her lids fell almost shut, the lust-darkened brown peeking through. Her mouth was slack, helpless, open. Her back tilted up, leaving her slim neck vulnerable, offering her gorgeous tits to his waiting mouth.

He tilted his hips, aiming for that spot. She flinched. Ah, there. Three, two, one, and then
he
was coming in uncontrollable spasms, in long jets that took his breath away, in an endless swell of hope where there had been none.

Damn.

He must have been more excited than he thought, to have lost control like that. A smile curved his lips. He’d just have to find some other way to satisfy her. She trembled beneath him, still on the edge, as he moved down her body.

“What are you doing?” she asked, breathless. Then, “You don’t have to do that.”

He ran his tongue bottom to top. “Remember, you’re still asleep. Just close your eyes.”

She groaned. “In that case, enough talking.”

He chuckled, applying himself to the task. Her skin was slick and quivery. She tilted her hips up, providing him greater access, but still he avoided her clit, letting his tongue explore her sweet-salty folds while she moaned and begged above him.

“Sawyer,” she said, her voice hot with sexual frustration.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Her hips bucked. “Oh, God.”

He slipped two fingers inside her, finding the spot that made her breath catch. “Don’t you need to open the diner?”

She rocked against him. “Barry will do it.”

“Good idea.” He closed his mouth over her clit, swirling with his tongue, sucking her, drinking her, breathing only her as she cried out so loudly that anyone downstairs couldn’t miss it. He lapped at her tender flesh, easing her down from the orgasm until she became too sensitive to touch.

When the bliss on her face receded to awareness, she flung an arm over her eyes. “I can’t believe I did that.”

“What, the dream you just had? Sounded like a good one. You relax while I go find breakfast.”

That got her interest. “You’re going to cook?”

“Don’t look so surprised. I’m a grown man. Of course I can cook a simple meal.”

That was a lie. His culinary repertoire included heating up cans of chili and boiling water. He wondered if she would eat spaghetti for breakfast. He checked the fridge and found some leftovers, but that would be cheating. The pantry had granola. Enough said. Maybe it would be worth making the walk of shame downstairs to get some real food.

Natalie peeked around the corner. She’d put on a tank top and shorts, but that only made her more alluring. “Looking for something?”

“I don’t suppose you have pancake mix. If it’s just-add-water there’s like a fifty-fifty chance I’ll make it right.”

She grinned. “No mix. But if you want pancakes I can whip up some batter.”

He grunted.

Her smile slipped. “Okay, no pancakes. Omelets, then?”

“I didn’t want to be an asshole. I showed up at your place uninvited and then fucked you silly.”

“You mean like I did to you?”

He snorted. “That wasn’t the same. Anyway, I didn’t want to make you cook for me.”

She came to stand in front of him. “I like cooking for you. I like doing things for you...I like it when you—” she blushed, “—when you fuck me silly.”

“You don’t feel like I’m using you?”

“It makes me hot when you use me.”

He groaned. “Shit. How hungry are you?”

“Starving,” she said, her voice husky. Her gaze dipped to his cock, which was at full mast. “Why, you got something for me?”

That was it. He dragged her back into the bedroom where they worked off their remaining calories until they both collapsed onto the damp sheets.

“Now I’m really hungry,” she announced.

“Okay, I’ll go get us something.” He blinked up at the ceiling. “Am I moving yet?”

“I don’t know, I can’t open my eyes anymore.”

He was quiet a moment. “I didn’t want to be an asshole like I was before. When I left.”

“After graduation?”

“I never explained. I should have.”

“Lots of kids wanted to get out of here. Not me, of course, but I can see how you’d want something bigger. Something better. I didn’t blame you for it.”

“Did you blame me for breaking up without an explanation?”

She sat up, resting on one hand. Her hair spilled over her shoulder like honey. Golden light from the window illuminated her curves. “At the time, I guess. Typical high school angst. I’m not still mad about it. I get it now.”

“Well, I am. I treated you like shit, and it wasn’t even you I was mad at.”

Her eyebrow rose. “Who were you mad at?”

His dad. Joe. “Myself, I guess. I had too much pride. Couldn’t accept being a punk-ass kid. I didn’t get any respect, but then I didn’t deserve any. That’s why I had to leave. I needed to know if I could make it on my own. I needed to prove that I could make it without the farm, without Dearling.”

“And you did.”

“Yeah. I went into the darkest, scariest situations and walked back out. It turns out I’m a hard guy to kill. And that’s a pretty low fucking bar to set for my life—staying alive, surviving. That’s not what Dearling is about, though, and you get that. You always knew.”

“It’s about family.”

“Even when my dad was alive, it wasn’t like that for us. I didn’t have that.”

“You had me.” She said it without accusation.

“And I let you go.”

“You’ll always have a place here, even if you go away for a while.”

“I won’t,” he vowed.

“Okay.” Her smile was small.

It slayed him to think she didn’t believe it. Maybe not in a discrete thought, but she wasn’t sure of him, of his commitment to this town and to her. As if one day he would walk away and she would, what, wait for him? He couldn’t comprehend that kind of loyalty...or maybe he could, now. Sometimes love was what a person did, like cooking for them or fucking each other silly. Other times love was about not doing, about waiting. About giving him space to grow up and be a man so that he could be
her
man. She honored him. She awed him.

He kissed her. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being you.”

“Is this a roundabout way of asking me to make breakfast?”

“No, but I’ll remember that one for another time. Besides, it’s lunchtime.”

She glanced at the clock and groaned. “Oh, man. They’re going to go bananas over this.”

A short knock came at the door. Natalie bolted for the closet, but Sawyer slung on his jeans and opened the door. The short hallway was empty, but a brown paper bag sat outside the door, smelling delicious. He could get used to Dearling. They had their priorities straight, they really did.

* * *

Sawyer set down the box in the empty foyer. He assumed Natalie had already spirited the other upstairs, and a small creak in the floorboards above him confirmed it. He walked to the back door and looked out at the block of mud that was his lands now.

It had been two weeks since he’d made his clumsy proposal. Two weeks since she’d accepted. He’d set the wedding for as soon as fucking possible, not wanting her to think too much and change her mind. She laughed when he mentioned it, but she didn’t see how much of a bum deal she was getting.

She’d brought more clothes than she’d needed every night that he’d carted her back from the diner late at night. Barry started opening for her every morning, which was handy because no way was Sawyer letting her out of bed at four in the morning, not when they’d just tumbled into sleep at midnight. Already she was looking for ways to handle the diner, hiring temporary help. Permanent help.

At first he’d been worried. He knew how much the diner meant to her. It was her link to Gram. Accompanying Natalie on a visit to the nursing home helped him realize how important that was, now that Gram didn’t communicate much. But Natalie’s relief appeared genuine. She spent less time at the diner and in turn had more enthusiasm in the hours she was there. And more enthusiasm in other places, something he’d certainly never complain about.

No, he didn’t have much to complain about these days. A beautiful woman in his bed. Friends who had come out of the woodwork in town...well, they’d always been there. He’d just been too wrapped up in his inherited surly ways to realize it. And he still had a job waiting for him. He’d already spoken with his commander and a few of his friends who were flying out for the wedding next week. It just wasn’t the job he wanted anymore.

Hell, every SEAL had to exit the game at some point—early enough to walk away instead of getting carried out. But that was an excuse. He wanted a home with Natalie, the life of a farmer and his lovely wife more than he could breathe. Sometimes it felt that way, as if he was suffocating under the weight of losing this place.

They found a new memory every day. A nook from his childhood where he used to sit and read. A photograph of his mother from the attic that Natalie lovingly restored for him. Soft footfalls on the stairs alerted him to her arrival. His brow smoothed, his tension eased. She drew out the best in him, and he tried to repay that by giving it all to her.

“The guest room’s shaping up,” she said.

“You don’t have to go through any trouble. We could give them a bedroll in the barn and they’d be fine.”

She looped her arms through his from behind and laid her cheek against his back. “All the same, I think I’ll get some new sheets.”

“Are you sure you want to have the wedding here? It’s so...” Muddy. That was all he could think about, having worked directly in said mud every day. He’d continued working, even though it was clear he’d never finish in time. He couldn’t seem to stop.

“It’s beautiful. And it’s your family home. Of course we should have it here.”

Guilt tore at him anew. It was his family’s home, but not only his parents. It was hers. Natalie was family and he’d failed her.

“I’m sorry,” he said gruffly.

“Hey.” She drew back and came to stand in front of him. Her eyes searched his. “I know how hard you worked these past few weeks. I saw how hard. So you’ll go and tell the committee that. If they don’t listen, it’s their loss.”

No, it was his loss, and they both knew it.

He tugged her close for a quick kiss. “You’ll stay with me, right?”

“Oh, Sawyer. Do you doubt me? I didn’t wait this many years only to back out because of where we live.”

“It’s more than that. Being a sailor’s wife. A SEAL’s wife.”

That knock on the door would show up someday. He’d never cared too much before, never felt he had anything to live for. Now he counted each day as something precious, and the thought of her crying for him left him raw.