Chapter 7
1385 Words
Chapter Seven
The porch light was still on when they pulled up to the Big House. It was early enough in the season the light didn’t attract bugs. Soon enough they’d have to switch to citronella candles, and maybe gather around the fire pit on the back porch.
True to their word, Ben and Brodie had waited up. Considering first light for ranchers was less than four hours away, they’d all be dragging tomorrow.
Maddie sat in the cab as he walked around to open her door. She looked small and vulnerable encased in his jacket, but the look in her eye said fear and defiance.
Of course. Brodie.
He’d run interference the best he could. He hoped Brodie would know better than to be an a*s tonight.
Blake helped her down and kept a hand on the small of her back as they mounted the steps to the porch. Ben rose and grabbed two beers from the mini fridge.
Brodie leaned back, a smirk on his face. “Well, well, well. Fancy seeing you here, Britannica.”
Or not. If he wasn’t so exhausted himself, he’d kick the s**t of out Brodie right here.
“Don’t be a d**k, Brodie,” he gritted out through clenched teeth.
Maddie placed a restraining hand on his chest, shaking her head. Then, she marched straight over to Brodie, yanked the beer out of his hands, and proceeded to dump it in his lap.
“What the f**k?” Brodie yelped as he leaped to his feet, eyes flashing.
She stepped forward and jabbed him in the chest, although the sleeve of the jacket covered her hands, so it looked like it was the sleeve hitting Brodie. Blake barely held back the laughter threatening to spill over.
“That…was for picking on me when I was little.”
“This…” She grabbed one of the beers from Ben and, pulling on the waistband of Brodie’s denims, emptied the contents down his pants. “Is to remind you that if you ever call me Britannica again, you are reminding the world that I am brilliant and you are an i***t. Your choice.”
Ben threw back his head and laughed. Blake joined in. Maddie took the second beer from Ben, took a swig and turned to Blake, eyes flashing. “I choose fighting.” She swung her glare back to Brodie, where he was rooted to the porch, his jaw clenched tight. “Don’t worry. I don’t expect an apology. Don’t expect one from me.” She took another sip of beer, her eyes returning to Blake’s again over the bottle. “I think I’d like to go inside.”
Blake nodded toward the door. “I’ll be right in.”
Holy. Hell.
He couldn’t help the grinning. Never f**k with a Hansen who’s reached the end of a rope. Served Brodie right.
He passed his brothers and grabbed his own beer from the fridge.
“Got yourself a live wire there, brother,” Brodie muttered under his breath.
Yes indeed. He certainly did.
Ben’s laughter echoed behind him. “Brodie, you’ll never learn, will you?”
The screen door slammed behind him and he couldn’t hear Brodie’s answer. Not that it mattered. He wouldn’t forget this for a long time, if ever.
Maddie sat at the island in the kitchen spinning her beer. He leaned on the doorjamb just taking her in. Her formerly tidy bun was messy, softening her features. His coat on her frame made her look waifish. Most people probably saw her that way, but they were wrong. There was nothing waif-like about her. Underneath those soft curves, she was strong as steel. Admiration for her warmed him.
Pushing himself off the jam, he strode toward her. “Feel better?”
She studied him carefully before finishing her beer. She shrugged.
“Let me grab my toothbrush, and I’ll be right down.”
Maddie nodded, pushing her glasses up.
“That’s your tell, you know.”
“What?”
He reached out and gently pushed her glasses up her nose. Her breath hitched. “That. You push your glasses whenever you’re worried, or irritated, or nervous… like now.” He held her gaze for a moment. “What are you nervous about, Maddie?”
She bit her lip. “Umm. It’s late.”
Chicken.
She was a big chicken.
Given the look she just flashed him, she knew it, too. He swallowed his frustration and left her in the kitchen.
Upstairs, he paused at his dresser. Her black glasses were there on a napkin he’d kept from Frenchie O’Neill’s. He’d left in such a fit of anger, he’d forgotten he had them until long after he’d left the restaurant. And after their encounter in the courtyard he sure as hell wasn’t going to seek her out and return them.
He grabbed them off the dresser and headed back to the kitchen. When he strode into the room, he found her hunched over the island. She turned to face him, eyeing him warily. Slowly he took the blue pair off of her and replaced them with the black. “I believe these are yours.”
He studied her intently. The black looked good. Set off the eyes. But the blue was more… her.
“I like the blue better.”
“You do, do you?” She cracked a slow smile. “What if I like the black?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised. You’re as contrary as your dad.”
Her eyes widened, and the barest hint of hurt flashed.
Huh.
He tipped her chin up, taking in her full, sweet mouth. He could feel himself falling into her and he stopped just as she inhaled. Neither of them moved.
“You fight, Maddie,” he murmured barely above a whisper. His blood sang in his ears. She parted her lips, the tip of her tongue darting out nervously. He fought a groan as his c**k stood at full attention. “You fight because you’d die before you admit you want to fuck.”
He could sense her holding her breath. He leaned in the barest fraction of an inch. So close their lips almost touched. “But I can tell you want to fuck.” He grazed his lips across hers. Lightly, so lightly.
Her breath shuddered out little by little, only to hitch as he grazed her lips again. Time stopped. He could stand here in exquisite agony barely touching her and probably die a happy man. But he wanted more. He shouldn’t. Especially right now. But he did.
He wanted to hear her admit she wanted more. He pulled back the tiniest bit. She leaned in.
His c**k strained against his zipper.
If he was smart, he’d walk out right now, pile her into the truck, and leave her at the edge of her family’s property. Just like he had once before.
But he wasn’t. She’d wrapped him in some spell that kept him rooted to the spot.
Slowly, he tasted her bottom lip. Ran his tongue slowly over its fullness, tasting remnants of her beer, and sweetness that was only hers.
Her tongue flicked and met his, sending a jolt straight to his balls. He pulled back and she leaned in. His heart slammed against his chest.
“Tell me you want this, Maddie,” he whispered into her lips.
She answered with a tiny whimper.
Not good enough.
“What would I find if I slid my fingers inside your pants?”
A tremor rippled through her body.
He pulled back a little more, and still she leaned in. Her hand reached up and clutched his shirt.
“Would you be slippery and wet for me? Aching with want?”
He gently bit her lower lip, then tongued where he’d nipped. A sigh escaped her, and he breathed it in, savoring her scent.
His balls were going to explode if he kept this up.
He would kiss her, but only once. He needed one taste of that sweet, sweet mouth. He leaned into her, lips covering hers, tongue sliding in. Opening, probing, tasting.
She melted into him, her tongue gliding against his, exploring his mouth with the same tenderness and curiosity. As if it was their first kiss, not their tenth.
He stood there drowning in her, completely losing himself in her silky wet sweetness. Only when she moaned a little did he come crashing back to earth.
He tore his mouth away from hers, panting. Her eyes had glazed over. And she searched his, asking a hundred unspoken questions.
He shook his head.
“No. Not tonight. Not until you say it.”
He kissed her forehead and stepped back, shaking himself.
“Truck. Now. You’re going to your house.”
Willing himself not to look back to see if she was following, he spun and stalked through the house to the porch. Ignoring Brodie’s laughter, he crossed the porch in two steps, paced around the truck and hopped in, revving it to life.
He was an i***t. And in way over his head.
- Writer
