Slow Ride Home (The Grady Legacy) (14 page)

“Shh,” he soothed. “I’m getting there.”

“Then what’s taking you so long?” she ground out. “I need you.”

Shifting his weight to one arm, he cupped her face in his palm. “If you only knew how many nights I fantasized about you here beneath me again.”

Oh damn. So much for keeping her romance shields up. His statement cracked them into a thousand tiny pieces. Her chest ached and she blinked at the emotion filling her.

He released her face and slid his hand between them to place his cock at her entrance. Her body softened at his smooth glide as he pressed inside her. He lowered himself to his elbows and tilted his hips, driving himself deeper.

“Fuck yeah,” he breathed. The look in his eyes—of need and passion—set her whole body humming.

Sweat beaded on his forehead and his muscles strained as if he fought the need to move faster than his slow, steady rhythm. Her body sang with each press back inside, her tissues loving the pressure and friction.

If she hadn’t been tied up, she’d have dragged her fingernails down his back, clamped her hands on his ass and speeded him up. Since moving her arms wasn’t an option, she dug her heels into his thighs and surged beneath him, setting her own pace.

“Fuck.” He quickened his thrusts. The sounds of flesh slapping on flesh mingled with the scent of their passion, filling the room in a heady, erotic scent. He swore again and banded his cock with his fingers to ward off his climax.

“Come for me, Allie. Fast and hard.”

Her body responded separately from her brain, tightening around his heavy shaft, milking him. A slight shift in angle set off another firestorm until she couldn’t draw a breath, her body shaking and her mind blown. In the distance, though he was just above her, Ben grunted his own release. Though she was certain she had no energy left, her body responded again, or maybe it was still the same climax, she couldn’t tell.

By the time he sagged on top of her, she couldn’t put together a coherent thought, let alone voice a protest at his weight.

“Hang on,” he panted. He rolled onto this side and reached up to untie her wrists. Once she was free, he lowered her arms and massaged the tender skin to encourage the circulation to return. “You all right, darling?”

“Mmm,” was the most she could manage. Her eyes had closed, the lids as heavy as if someone had taped them shut. The bed dipped and moved, and footsteps padded across the bare floor, then running water. Moments later, Ben returned and lay beside her.

Maybe he sensed she couldn’t move, because he half lifted her onto her side and snuggled her, spooning her.

As tired as she was, her brain whirled at what they’d just done, at the love and tenderness he’d shown her. At the wild side he’d brought out in her. She rubbed the rough spot on her wrist left by the rope. All those years of playing the good girl first for her father, and then for Lewis, had made her wonder if she’d ever let herself find such passion again. She’d been lost for a while and now she was starting to find herself again, accept who she was, what she wanted. All because of Ben.

“Shh, you’re thinkin’ too hard again,” he whispered, cuddling her closer.

He was right. She relaxed into his arms and let her mind drift.

The light outside had faded when she finally opened her eyes, and the crickets’ song filled the silence. Well, them and the sound of Ben’s stomach growling.

“I need food.” His voice rumbled against her chest. “I can fire up the barbeque. Cook a steak?”

“You barbeque, and I’ll whip up a salad.”

“Deal.”

After a lazy stretch, Allie plumped the pillows, enjoying watching Ben searching through his dresser, especially the way the moonlight highlighted his shoulders in its silvery light. Not to mention what it did to highlight his taut ass. He pulled out a fresh pair of briefs before wandering into the bathroom.

He emerged wearing the briefs, nothing else. Oh man, he’d just given her how many orgasms and just looking at him could still make her girly parts tingly?

“Can I borrow a T-shirt and some shorts or sweat pants? My clothes—well, your clothes—are still out on the porch.”

“Better go get ‘em. If they aren’t filled with spiders by the morning, there’s an armadillo who wanders up on the porch every night who might decide to burrow in them.”

“It’s a screened porch. How can an armadillo get in if the door is closed?” He had to be teasing. Didn’t he?

With no trace of amusement in his expression, Ben shrugged. “I have no idea, but he has some secret entrance I haven’t been able to find. Trust me. You leave your clothes out there and he’ll make a nest. Just ask Jake about the time he passed out on the porch a few years back.”

With a squeak, she scooted off the bed and rummaged through his dresser for a pair of shorts or briefs to cover her ass. Her fingers touched something silky. And lacy. She pulled out a pair of black women’s underwear. How had she missed these when she’d gone through the drawer before? The soft, tender feelings for Ben evaporated.

Great a grip, O’Keefe. It’s not like you could expect him not to have dated.

Keep it light. She held them up and forced a smile. “You taken to cross-dressing, Grady?”

“Fuck. I thought I’d tossed all her stuff.” He snatched the panties from her and tossed them in the trash can by the bed.

The jealousy crawling inside her wasn’t right. It wasn’t. Still, she couldn’t stop from asking, “Her?”

“Someone else who hasn’t been in this room for over a year. You have nothing to worry about from her. Any more than I’m need to worry about your ex.” He lifted a brow. “Or should I?”

Where she’d expected to see a hint of laughter there was none. She stroked his jaw. “I’ll admit, I’m a little jealous at the thought of you with someone else, but I wasn’t here and I’d moved on too.”

It wasn’t like there was any commitment now. They were just scratching an itch. Weren’t they?

Unable to deal with the questions, she shook her head. “I’d better get those clothes before I forget.”

Dragging on a well-worn tee and a pair of Ben’s board shorts, she dashed outside and grabbed her clothes, giving them a good shake.

Ben stood at the bottom of the stairs, still wearing only his underwear, when she returned. He hooked the bottom of her shirt and pulled her against him. “I like you wearin’ my clothes.” His voice was husky, possessive. And proud. “You remember us goin’ to that concert?”

Allie pulled away and stared down at the faded Aerosmith logo on the front of her shirt. The shirt she’d bought him at the concert they’d attended together. “Oh my God, you still have it.”

He grinned. “Wasn’t about to throw away the shirt I was wearing when I convinced a girl to go down on me in an elevator. It was the first time I’d ever had elevator sex.”

“A
girl?
” Her! “
First
time you’d had elevator sex... You’ve had—” She held up her hand. “No, forget I asked. I do not want to know.”

“Good. Because I don’t kiss and tell.” Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, he led her into the kitchen. Unlike his bedroom, other than a fresh coat of paint on the walls, this was exactly as she remembered. It had been the center of the household, the family sitting at the table after dinner, Jake and Ben insulting each other, their father and mother laughing along with them.

“Did you fix this place up or your parents?”

“Mostly me. Ma never really liked this place—said she never felt like it was her home, that there were too many ghosts here. I figured if she does decide to move back in, maybe a change would help get rid of some of the ghosts, you know?”

She’d always loved the idea of knowing that her mother might have sat in the same chair she was sitting in, or her grandmother, or in Ben’s case, even his great-grandmother. For a kid who had been yanked from farm to farm, from county to county half her life, she’d craved to live in a place with “ghosts” of her past. To have a history all her own. “Has she said she wants to move back?”

“Nah. For all her dissing Gram’s house, I think she likes it there. Maybe because that’s where she was with Pop last.”

Ah, the ghost who mattered the most to her. “Are there a lot of ghosts here for you?” Were they good or bad ghosts? “Do you wonder if your ancestors are looking down, judging you?”

“No.” A faraway look came into his eyes. “It’s home, you know? My great-grandfather was conceived here, raised here. So was Gramps. I was born here—well, in the hospital, but once they brought me home this is the only home I’ve known. Everywhere I look there are memories. I can’t imagine living anywhere else.”

Where she’d never stayed in any place longer than a couple years. “Anyway, I figured I’d put my own mark on the place. Knocked out the wall to the spare bedroom, put in a walk-in closet and finally got my own private bathroom for once.”

Sensing he seldom talked like this to anyone, she walked her fingers up his spine hoping her touch would encourage him to continue. “What do you need a walk-in closet for? All you own are T-shirts, jeans and a couple of dusty Stetsons.”

He caught her fingers and pressed them to his lips. “Because I figured one day I’d catch me a wife. Figured a walk-in closet might seal the deal.”

It wouldn’t have taken a walk-in closet to keep her happy if his grandfather hadn’t interfered. “You think the love of a good man isn’t enough?”

“You think I’m a good man?” His question was quiet but she heard an echo behind it. Didn’t he think he was good enough?

“Of course I do. You’re a hard worker and honest to a fault. Any woman would be lucky to have you.” So why was she working so hard to keep a distance?

“Most of the women I’ve dated tell me that at first, then they realize what it means to be married to a full-time farmer, and they can’t get away from me fast enough.”

As if to punctuate his remark, his cell phone buzzed though it sounded strangely muffled.

He reached to his waistband. A puzzled expression contorted his face for a moment then his eyes lit up. “I left it in my pants.” That boyish grin spread across his face. “I guess they’re still in the hall where I dropped ‘em.”

Allie allowed herself a moment to appreciate the very fine view of Ben Grady’s ass before he disappeared from view. He returned a few moments later, his phone pressed to his ear. After kissing her cheek, he reached for a mug and poured himself a cup of coffee, never dropping the phone.

Trying to ignore Ben’s graphic instructions to one of his weekend-farmer neighbors on how to treat a recluse spider bite on their horse that echoed down the hall, Allie opened the fridge door and pulled out the lettuce, cucumber, carrots and tomatoes. While Ben made arrangements for Gabe to go check out the poor horse, Allie thought about what life would be like if she lived here full-time. Most small ranchers these days had to take a job off the ranch in order to support themselves, but owning a spread the size of Bull’s Hollow meant an ideal wife would help out full-time. She’d haul hay and place mineral blocks, efficiently drive an ATV as well as a plough or a harrow. She’d ride out to check on the fencing crews, helping them when they were short-handed—because God knew there was always a fence needing mending. She’d go without sleep for days at time during calving season and then end up in the barn at odd hours, nursing orphan calves. She wouldn’t drive off to a job in town first thing in the morning and not arrive home until ten o’clock at night, just as exhausted as her husband.

While her time with Ben was fun, a mixture of sadness and relief settled over her that when his claim was closed, she’d go back to her job in Houston and leave him to find someone who could put him and Bull’s Hollow first.

* * *

Ben frowned as Allie picked at the salad she’d put together. Something had changed about her when he’d been grilling the steak. She’d withdrawn into herself. “You can have some of my steak if you want. That rabbit crap you’ve got going isn’t going to fill you. You need protein to keep up the hours you’re puttin’ in.”

“This rabbit crap will keep me healthy so I don’t end up having a heart attack when I’m fifty.”

“You got a family history of heart problems?”

“My father had a heart attack my second year of college.” She lifted one shoulder briefly before dropping it. “He could have had more since then, but last time I talked to his new wife, she said he’s told her not to bother phoning me if anything happens.”

Son of a bitch. He couldn’t imagine having a parent who cared so little for his own kid that he wouldn’t even let them know if he was alive or dead.

“When was the last time you talked to him?”

“A little over five years ago.”

Daniels didn’t even know his daughter’s marriage had ended? He hadn’t been there to help her pick up the pieces the way Ben’s father had been there for him when his last girlfriend—the owner of the panties Allie had found—had given him the “it’s not you, it’s me” speech. “D’you miss him?”

“I think I grieved for him as if he were dead for the first couple of years, but now I just don’t feel anything anymore. I know a lot of people would say it makes me a bad daughter, but I couldn’t ever do anything right in his eyes no matter how hard I tried. He refused to come to my college graduation or when I graduated law school. He was downright rude when I asked him to walk me down the aisle at my wedding, even though Lewis offered to pay for his flight.” She lifted her plate and took it to the sink, rinsing it before she put it in the dishwasher. “But every once in a while, when someone talks about their father and how you need to honor your parents, it’s like another dig, you know? Of what I’m missing out on.”

“Call in sick tomorrow.” He had no idea where the impulsive invitation came from, but once it was said, it seemed like a perfect idea. “Spend the day with me. I’ll take you riding.”

“I can’t.”

He lifted her onto the counter and trapped her between his thighs, just like he had on the fence. Lifted her hands and pressed his lips to the reddened skin of her wrists. “Damn it. I need to find something better for next time.” She deserved to be pampered, not tied up with rope. “Next time I’d like to tie your ankles too, so I can get you spread-eagled, have my wicked way with you.”