Slow Burn

Chapter 22

BECKS

Coffee.

The aroma calls to me like the rev of the engines on race day, jolting me awake so quickly, I grab the pillow beside me to cover my eyes from the brightness in the room. There aren’t any curtains at the farmhouse¸ so hello, sunshine.

Thanks for that, Mom.

I grumble a curse, the morning and me not on a first-name basis today.

Well, it’s probably because my eyes closed what feels like only hours ago. First there was the incredible sex with Haddie. Incredible? Who the fuck am I kidding? More like the bar was set to measure all other sex in my life.

The goddamn Macallan.

She’s ruining me. Like fucking destroying me for anybody else. Deena? Who?

Then after I got drunk on her body, she curled up next to me and fell asleep. But I couldn’t. I lay there for well over an hour, reliving the day: bringing her out here, sex in the field, finding her stitches, the fight that ensued, getting a helluva lot more leaves in her hair as we made up, dinner, and talking by the fire followed by foreplay there, which led to the bar being set.

Despite how incredible the day was, my mind kept drifting back to those test results she hadn’t gotten back yet. To the feelings she’s stirred up inside me and how the possibilities of what those results could hold might affect her when she’s already running scared as it is.

Her body was so warm, so damn tempting, I let it soothe the concern burdening me, and finally fell asleep as dawn bled into the night.

Coffee.

The scent and soft humming I hear pull me from my thoughts. Ones I don’t want to have, but damn if Haddie hasn’t burrowed under my skin, made me want more than I should. Made me think thoughts that would make my mom jump for joy.

Thoughts veer toward wondering if Colton’s newfound one-pussy-is-good-enough-to-commit-to-for-life theory holds any relevance for me.

And that’s saying a hell of a lot.

My morning wood is flying full staff, and with the scent of coffee leading my nose and my libido literally pointing the way to the one person who can satisfy both my needs, I push up out of bed and shuffle toward the kitchen.

As I make my way down the hall, I come up with the perfect idea of where to take her on the way home. She needs a day where she doesn’t have to worry, preoccupied enough that she doesn’t have time to think about the unknown that I know rules her minute to minute.

I’m feeling on top of the world when I round the corner to the kitchen. It’s when I see her, though, that I feel like the bottom drops out.

Damn.

Just damn.

She’s sitting on the window seat, back against the wall, knees against her chest, and a cup of coffee in her hands on top of them. Her face is angled toward the vast view of the farm spread before her. The sun streams in the window and lights up the gold of her hair in a halo-type effect. She has on my T-shirt and I’m unsure what else since it drapes down and covers her hips, blocking the view I really want to see. She has a soft smile on her face as she watches Rex outside snap his jaws fruitlessly at the flies buzzing overheard and just out of reach.

There is something about her right now that looks so pure, so fragile, when she is usually anything but, that pulls at me. I blame it on the sunlight at first, convince myself it’s the combination of her relaxed and wearing my T-shirt that makes my dick ache. Makes the thought She looks like an angel flicker through my groggy mind.

But hell if I’m not staggered by the sight.

I desperately want her to look at me, want to see what her eyes would say, but can’t find it in me to break the moment. For her or for me. Because I’m too busy trying to figure out why I feel so fucked-up all of a sudden.

I was a man looking for coffee and maybe some morning dessert of sweet Haddie, and now I’m speechless, and I know there’s no turning back for me.

As soon as she shifts in her seat, she sees me, but she’s not startled like I’d expect. A slow smile spreads across those perfect lips when her eyes meet mine. From a distance, they look like they’re glistening with tears, and for the first time in for-fucking-ever, I can’t move. I just stand there and stare at her, speaking only through our visual connection. As much as I need to look away so she can’t read what’s in my eyes, I can’t because I realize it’s not the bottom dropping out at all.

Nope. Not in the least.

It’s my heart bottoming out as it tumbles and falls.

Well … fuck.

Shouldn’t I be freaked that the woman in front of me just stole my breath and made me feel different from any way I’ve ever felt before? Rational thought says we’ve been seeing each other such a short time that the grapple hook I just felt dig into my heart can’t be for real. Besides, the Cupid-and-arrow routine is bullshit.

But the click? Now the click is sure as fuck real. And hell if it wasn’t just as deafening as a clap of thunder.

I already feel like she’s struck me with lightning, so the sound of thunder is par for the course.

“Good morning.” Her voice pulls me from my thoughts. “Coffee’s ready.”

Coffee.

Yes.

That will help clear my head and hopefully loosen my tongue, which is suddenly tied because I fear that this self-revelation will change everything.

“Are you positive?”

She asks me the question with a look of curious caution in her eyes. I can tell that she wants the opportunity I’ve just laid out before her but fears it all at the same time. And I get the range of emotions, but I also know that giving her the chance to be in control of something will help her, ground her, make her feel less like everything in her life is spiraling out of control.

“Do you trust me?”

She laughs low and rich with a suggestive smirk and a sparkle in her eye. “After what I just let you do to me, you’re going to ask me if I trust you?”

Goddamn.

It’s only been a few hours, but her comment has visuals of our prebreakfast sexcapade coming back in full HD color. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to eat another Thanksgiving dinner on that kitchen table without thinking of eating sweet Haddie out. Facedown, ass up, hands ordered to stay gripped on the edge or I’d stop the flick of my tongue on her clit. Her body writhing, her mouth moaning, and that sweeter-than-sin taste of hers hitting my tongue as she bucked beneath my grip on her hips as she came with a scream of my name.

And then she said a single word, More.

I meet her eyes as we exit the truck, and I know she’s thinking the same thing right now. How I pulled her to the edge of the table, then slammed into that tight, pulsing pussy of hers as she was still riding out her orgasm. And holy fucking hell. Just incredible. The feel of her, skin on skin, is just something I don’t think I can ever contemplate doing without now.

My dick hardens at the thought again, how taking my time never crossed my mind because I was only thinking about the endgame this time around, knowing she’d already got hers. The visual of pounding into her from behind hits me again, wetting my thumb and pushing it against her tight rim of resisting muscles. How she squirmed beneath my touch, her mouth crying out, “Yes. God, yes, Becks. Do it. I’ll come.” Her words the only consent I needed to push my thumb into her perfect fucking ass and mimic the movement of my dick in her pussy.

I close my eyes behind my sunglasses for a second, reliving the sound of her scream as she came so hard, her legs gave out, her every muscle tightening around my thumb and cock until I couldn’t hold back any longer and lost myself to her as well.

My God. Just when I thought she couldn’t top the night before, she went and raised the bar again.

If it gets much higher, I’m going to wish I was a damn pole-vaulter.

“Becks?”

Her voice pulls me from the pistons trying to spark in my mind because hell if she’s not the only fuel I need to fire up my engine right now.

“Hmm.” The hum deep in my throat makes clear to her just what I’m thinking about. “You bring up this morning, and I might just think I need to do it again.”

“Is that a promise?” she asks with a flash of a wicked grin as she saunters to the back of my truck, where the tailgate is down. She quirks an eyebrow at me as she bends over and leans her chest on it, her body bent at the waist, her ass sticking out, tempting me like no fucking tomorrow.

“Christ, baby, I don’t think you want to play with this fire.” I walk slowly toward her, wanting to take what she’s offering, except I know just around the corner are a few of the crew, waiting for us to get started.

She wiggles her ass at me as I come up behind her and trail a finger up and down the seam of her jeans shorts. I hear her suck in her breath, see her hips still before she presses backward into my hand. I withdraw my touch and step back—I’d take her right here, right now, but I’m not really ready to let any of the guys see her like this, give them real-life visuals to go along with the thoughts I know they’re going to be thinking when they meet her face-to-face.

She turns around when I step back, and angles her head at me. “You know what they say about playing with fire, right?” She leans into me and taunts my lips with hers. The fucking sugar to try to sweeten me up.

Damn tease.

“You get burned?” I answer, eyebrows raised, trying to figure out where she’s headed with this because I sure as hell know this isn’t the answer she’s looking for. My answer’s typical and Haddie’s is anything but typical.

“Hmm.” She hums against my lips. “Yes, but that just means you need to get your hose wet to put out the flame.” She brushes her body up against mine again, and hell, if she does that one more time, this whole idea at the track is going to get thrown out the damn window so I can go play firefighter.

Because this hose sure as fuck is getting wet again.

“I like the sound of that,” I murmur before I slip my tongue between her teasing lips, a three-alarm fire already lit within.

“Hey, Daniels! We doing this, or you going to pussyfoot around all day, wasting our time?” Smitty calls to my back, his voice echoing off the concrete walls of the infield near pit row.

Seriously? He always has the worst damn timing.

I raise my hand in the air, middle finger brandishing my hello wave to him. His laugh carries over to where we stand. “Maybe later, dear, but right now we’ve got the car primed and prepped, so get your ass over here.”

“Coming,” I yell back to him, my eyes locked on Haddie’s.

“Promise,” she whispers to me with an impish gleam in her eyes and a little wiggle of her body so that her tits rub against me one last time before she steps back.

I can’t help but grin even wider because how fucking lucky am I to be standing here with a woman who would make a quip like that? Twisting an innocent response into a dirty thought. Talk about one hell of a turn-on.

And hell if I’m one to break a promise.

Or a rule.

We hold each other’s gaze a moment longer, and I love seeing her eyes full of feistiness when so much of the time we’ve spent together they’ve been conflicted, guarded, sad. I don’t know what it’s going to take, but I want to keep that look there permanently.

“No worries there, sweet Haddie,” I tell her as we turn hand in hand and head toward the pits. “I’ll make that fire of yours rage and then use my hose to put it out in a blaze of glory. It would be my pleasure.”

Little does she know I’m talking about a helluva lot more than just sex.