go. It’s getting closer to Christmas, and I’m sure you want to spend it with your girls.”
Blowing out a quick, defeated breath, he nods. “Right. Well, I’ll give you a ride. Camdyn?” he yells, searching the counter for where he left his keys. “Where are my keys?”
“In the bathroom.”
Groaning, he walks down the hall. “Why are they in there?”
Camdyn looks up from the movie she and Sev are watching. “I don’t know. Go ask them.”
“Smartass,” he mumbles, clearly annoyed.
Behind me, I hear the door open.
Morgan walks through the door holding a pizza box. “Where are my girls?”
“Uncle Morgan!” they yell, barreling toward him. They cling to his legs, smiling. “Pizza!”
Barron pats Morgan’s shoulder. “Have fun. They had ice cream on the way here.”
“Dick,” he mumbles in passing. Sitting on the couch with them, he looks at the television. “What are we watching?”
“Hocus Pocus.” Camdyn takes a piece of pizza from the box. “Sev picked it.”
“Well, this isn’t going to work.” He takes the remote. “Let’s watch something else.”
And to my surprise, they let him change the channel.
I laugh and reach for my bag, unable to look at the girls. Am I really saying goodbye to them? No, I’ll be back. I just can’t stay here… right?
God, what the fuck am I thinking?
Barron nods to the door, his eyes anywhere but on mine. “Ready?”
My throat hurts, the tightness crawling up. I notice Morgan watching us, but he doesn’t say anything as the girls crawl all over him. I want to say goodbye to them because this might be the last time I see them, but I can’t make myself go over there. Too afraid, I back up near the door, trying to slowly erase my presence in their life.
Without another word, we leave. Five minutes into the drive, with the heater blasting warm air onto my face, I feel like any second I might burst into tears. What the fuck was I thinking? On all levels. Staying. Leaving. Lying. I don’t want to leave him. Or them. And I met them four fucking days ago. What kind of bullshit is this? Great, there’s the snorting hot sauce feeling again.
I also can’t get over the anger pulsating from him. He’s annoyed with me, and that’s evident in the way he won’t look over at me as I try to make small talk with him. “Barron,” I say, easing into my apology, unsure if I’m going to tell him the truth or whatever it is I’m going to say next. Even I don’t know how this is going to play out.
Before I can say anything else, he yanks the steering wheel to the right and down another dark ranch road. I have no idea where we are, but it certainly doesn’t look like a city or a hotel. Turning off the engine, he twists, and I feel warm hands meet my cheeks and slide to the nape of my neck. “What are you doing?” he asks, his voice weak but sincere. “I never said you had to get a room. And I don’t want you to leave.” His brow comes together, his troubled face illuminated by the headlights of a distant big rig passing on the main road. And then comes the word, “Please,” whispered softly.
As soon as those words leave his mouth, my strength is stolen from me, the air escaping from my lungs. Closing my eyes, I sigh. “I don’t want to,” I mumble into the silence, his truck rocking with the force of the steady wind and spray of snow hitting it. And then his lips come down on mine, gentle at first. They’re warm, but not as hot as his tongue that enters my mouth next, caressing mine. In the darkness, the seclusion we find ourselves in, so desperate for this newness we’re experiencing, it’s easy to believe our story isn’t doomed. That fate somehow had something to do with it.
He reaches for me across the seat and wraps his arms around my waist at the same time he moves to the center of the bench seat, away from the steering wheel. “I don’t want you to leave,” he says again as I straddle him. He runs his hands down my side to my hips, eyes watchful.
I smile. “I don’t want to either.”
“Then don’t.” He angles my hips at the same time his lift, and I notice what’s between us. His very large erection. My grip on his shoulders tightens, an involuntary moan escaping my lips.
I grind against him,