Chapter Twenty-Two

Brayden

Within two hours, Nina and I are in the back of an Uber headed toward an Airbnb I found down the coast. It's expensive as hell since it's last minute, but I'd pay ten times this amount for this weekend with Nina.

I told Jake that a friend of mine in Louisiana had a ranch emergency and I was heading out to help, and taking Nina with me since she didn't know many people.

"She knows all of us," Jake countered, and I'd heard the disbelief in his voice. I hated lying to him, even more so because I knew he wasn't fooled.

"We're just going to shoot down there and back," I said anyway. "We'll be back in time to catch the bus back home together."

Lying is apparently becoming my forte. But as I lace my fingers with Nina's, I push aside any guilt I have in favor of enjoying every remaining second I have with her.

As we pull in front of the house, Nina gasps before turning to me with a huge smile.

"It's literally on the ocean," she squeals. "How much was this? You have to let me pay half."

I shake my head because I want to treat her. To spoil her. To make everything I can of this weekend, because we both know we have a time limit. So no, I will not have her help me pay for our weekend together.

Once inside, Nina looks around the house, exclaiming over the beach theme of each room, and the massive view of the ocean right outside the wall of windows. It's not as private as I would have liked, but you either get the beach or privacy in a house in Galveston, and I figure curtains are created for a reason. Besides, just watching her eyes light up as she opens the sliding doors and breathes in the ocean air, it's enough for me to find new reasons to love her.

Because I have completely fallen for her—body and soul—and it's going to tear me apart to let her go. But goddamn, I'm going to enjoy every second of her until the moment we have to say goodbye.

There's a knock at the door, and I excuse myself to answer it.

"Expecting company already?" Nina laughs, turning to shoot me a curious smile.

"Something like that."

I open the door, and the delivery guy on the other side is there just long enough to check my ID for the wine before he leaves me with my groceries.

"You deserve a night out," I say as I carry grocery bags into the house. "But tonight we're staying in, and I'm cooking for you."

"You cook?" She starts to unpack the bags, but I swat at her ass and order her to sit down. She raises an eyebrow at me as I pour her a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon, then one for myself.

"Yes, I cook," I say. "You're not a child of Angie Winters without learning your way around the kitchen. Prepare to be impressed." I clink my glass with hers, then go back to unloading the groceries.

It's not a baseless brag. The truth is, cooking is my second love behind horses. By the time I was twelve, I had a few dozen signature dishes I would make for my family when I could talk my mom into letting me make dinner. My favorite was pan-seared gnocchi with sausage, broccoli leaves, and blistered cherry tomatoes. And I didn't just get store-bought gnocchi. No. Even at twelve I knew the art of folding flour and egg with potatoes and shaping it. How do you purchase gnocchi in a package when you've experienced the real thing?

"Tell me about your childhood," she says, twirling her wine in her glass while I work on dinner.

"That's random," I laugh. "What do you want to know?"

"Everything," she says. "I want to know who you were and what you did and all the things that made you who you are today."

I mull it over as I roll the potato dough into a long snake under my hands. "There's not much to tell," I finally say. "I rode horses, helped my dad on the ranch, and took care of my sisters so that my mom could catch a break."

"Sisters," she repeats, then shoots me a sympathetic smile. "Can you tell me about her?"

I pause, unsure of what to say because I've spent ten years actively not talking about her. But where has that gotten me? The hurt is such a chasm in my heart, I'm unsure how I'll ever fill it again.

"Her name was Amber," I say. "She was the funniest, sweetest little girl I've ever known. A lot like Hazel, but even more strong willed. You could not tell that girl no, and lord knows my mom tried."

There's a lump in my throat, but I push through it as I tell Nina about the time Amber snuck a kitten into the house, hiding it in her closet for a whole week before my mom caught on. "She'd been sneaking tuna into the room for the cat, and my mom kept mentioning how awful the twins' room smelled."

Nina's covers her mouth, her shoulders shaking as I describe the moment my mom broke into the room while the girls were in school, ready to clean it top to bottom. "My dad told us later how livid she'd been beforehand, ready to take the cat to the pound. But you know my mom. The woman has a heart full of love for every living creature, including tiny orange kittens. When my sisters came home, my mom had the cat on the kitchen counter, rubbing its belly full of real cat food."

"So Amber learned a real lesson in how to get what she wants," Nina says, laughing.

"Yup. Act first, apologize later. That was pretty much her motto."

"What happened to her?"

Nina's voice is soft, and she rests her hand on mine. When I look into her eyes, I want to tell her everything.

So I do.

I tell her about the day I wanted to go to the beach with my friends, but my mom wanted me to watch the twins so she and dad could get some time together. I took the girls with me, even though the last thing I wanted was to have them tag along. I had planned to ask this girl out that day, and the twins were the perfect cock block. So I told them to get lost once we got there so I could hang out with Shayna and they wouldn't mess everything up. But then Amber ran to me screaming that Hazel had been swept away.

There was no lifeguard on duty, and everyone on that goddamn beach was just watching the water instead of doing something. I ran faster than I've ever run in my life, crashing into the waves even though I had no idea where she was. Somehow I found her body as it was churned helplessly in the waves, and I managed to drag her back to the beach. She looked so blue as I pumped at her chest, and the water poured out of her once she stated coughing.

But I was so consumed with saving Hazel, I never noticed Amber was missing.

"She'd followed me into the water," I say now, my vision blurry from the tears I can't stop. She reaches forward and brushes them away, the same way I've done for her. "My parents came to the beach, the police were there, dozens of volunteers, and a diving team. We stayed all night, watching the spotlights as they searched the water. But they didn't find her body until a week later when it washed ashore a few miles down the road."

I don't tell Nina about the condition of her body. How there was so little left of her, they had to use Hazel's DNA to prove this unidentifiable mass was her sister.

"It was my fault," I whisper. Nina shakes her head, but I stop her before she can speak. "I never should have brought them there. They were only seven, not old enough to watch themselves."

"You were a kid yourself," Nina says.

"I was old enough to know better," I insist.

She continues stroking my hand. Behind her, the sky outside is darkening with the setting sun. The gnocchi lie in perfect mounds in front of me, ready for water. But I'm stuck in the past, remembering how Hazel became a shell of human and I couldn't look at her for close to a year.

"You have to forgive yourself," Nina whispers. I look away, but she lights a soft hand on my cheek and coaxes me back to looking at her. "It all makes so much sense now," she says.

"What does?"

"You," she says. "You're going around saving everyone in this world, trying in your own way to bring back your sister. Meanwhile, you're drowning with her. When are you going to come up for air? When are you going to let your sister go so that you can finally live? "

If anyone else suggested something like this to me, I'd punch them. Let her go? I haven't stopped thinking of Amber since the day she died. I don't speak of her, but she haunts me.

But dammit, she's right. From my father, to Jordy, to every way I've lived my life, it's been to save others while my needs are forgotten. I've done it so long, I don't know how to stop it.

"When will you take care of your needs, Bray?" Nina asks.

"Isn't that what this weekend is about?" I ask, offering a light chuckle even as I feel dark inside. "I sure know how to ruin the mood, don't I?"

"You didn't ruin anything," she says. "I want to know you. All of you. Even the hard parts. We have so little time…"

"Don't," I say, capturing her hand and pulling her to me. "Let's not talk as if there's a time limit. Let's just be."

"Then let me take care of you." She rests her hands on my chest, her eyes filled with compassion, along with a hint of heat. I glance at the dinner I'd started, at the gnocchi that just needs to boil and the sauce that's simmering on the stove. Her stomach rumbles as if to answer, and I shake my head at her.

"No, let's eat first," I say.

The conversation never ends over dinner. I'm beginning to think we'll never run out of things to say. She tells me all the adventures of living in an old house, from the old pipes to the weird storage cupboards she keeps finding all over the house.

"It's like they're reproducing," she says after telling me about the one she found in the stairs.

"In the literal stairs?"

"Yeah, right there. I lifted one of them by chance, and there's another cupboard. So far, they only hold junk or old papers. But I'm hoping one day I'll find something juicy in one of them. "

I tell her what it's like to run a ranch, which most of the time is incredible. But also about the tension of working under my father's watchful eye and never feeling like I'm getting it right.

"They don't know you might be leaving, do they?" she asks.

I'd mentioned it earlier, and she hadn't been surprised. There's only one person who would have told her that, and we promised not to speak about her this weekend. So I shake my head, clicking my tongue. But inside, I'm dying a bit more, because I don't want to leave the ranch or my family.

And now I don't want to leave her.

After dinner, she helps me clear the table and put the food away. I wash the dishes and she dries them, and I swear it feels like we've done this before. For a moment, I picture us years down the road, doing this exact same thing, but with a couple of kids running through the kitchen, and her belly swollen with another.

It will never be, but God she'd be so beautiful carrying my baby.

While I finish putting the dishes away, she disappears into the other room, instructing me not to leave the kitchen. I do as I'm told, though the sounds of clanging and moving furniture make me wonder what she has up her sleeve. Finally she comes back into the kitchen, and I swear to fuck, I'm about to nut myself just from her outfit alone. She's wearing nothing but panties and a tank top, and fuck me, it's the sexiest thing I've ever seen.

"Get your ass over here," I growl, grabbing her and pulling her close while she squeals.

"Brayden, no," she laughs, pushing against me. "You're ruining it."

"Ruining what? Your hair? Your makeup? Because Sugar, I'm about to ruin a whole lot more than that."

She bites her lip, but still presses her hand to my chest until I finally let her go.

"Come on," she says, taking my hand and leading me to the living room. Once we get there, I see a fire burning bright in the fireplace. I laugh, thinking of home where my sister is probably also in front of the fire. But on this cool Texas evening, the fire breathes a warm, welcome air to the room.

"You built a fire?"

"You're surprised?" She grins. "When you live in a drafty house like mine, you better know how to build a fire or your heating bill will suck you dry." She points to my clothes, moving her finger up and down, "All right, Winters. Strip."

I raise an eyebrow, then start to sway my hips as I unbutton my shirt. She laughs, then pushes at me before working my buttons for me. "I'm not fucking you," she says, taking my shirt off. Her eyes linger on my chest, and she licks her lips. "Well, not yet," she murmurs. Then her cheeks turn rosy, and she ducks her head. "I meant what I said earlier. I want to take care of you. All you need to do is get undressed, get your ass on the floor, and let me straddle you."

"That's what I'm talking about," I say, grabbing for her again. She laughs, scooting out of reach.

"I'm massaging you, pervy."

I'm not going to lie, I'm a little disappointed. I want nothing more than to bury my face between her legs and breathe her in.

"You're going to have your hands all over my body and I can't even touch you? That hardly seems fair."

She unbuckles my belt and whips it out of the loops in one swift movement. "Tough shit," she says as she unbuttons my pants. They drop to my ankles, and I step out of them. I'm no longer helping her undress me, enjoying this moment way too much.

Soon I'm completely naked. She lays a blanket on the floor and instructs me to lie face down.

I've never had a massage in my life. That seems weird, but I just haven't. I've given them to Jordy, and to other girlfriends I've had; but being on the receiving end always felt self-indulgent. But once Nina's hands start kneading my muscles, I can't stop the groan that comes from somewhere deep in my chest.

"Fuck, that feels good," I say. She laughs lightly but keeps working. Between the wine at dinner, my full belly, and her healing hands, my whole body feels like it's unclenching, completely relaxing into her touch. Her hands are strong as she kneads my muscles. I want to say it surprises me, but I've seen her on the ranch. The girl is a beast, keeping up with the guys like she's been working there all her life, and looking like a fine piece of ass while she's doing it.

Right now her ass rests on mine, her hot pussy like an oven against my skin. I'm both completely relaxed and achingly erect. Her hands move from my shoulders to my lower back, and she presses in while I moan into the blanket. It's not only working my sore back, but also my cock into the floor. She reaches my ass, her hands squeezing my muscles, but not before she grazes one finger against my balls.

"You keep doing that, and I'm going to have you on your back," I warn her. She laughs, and then fuck if she doesn't do it again. I take my legs and wind them with hers, flipping her over so fast she only has a moment to take a breath in before she's laughing.

"I'm not done!" she insists.

"Oh, you're done all right." I hold her hands above her head with one hand, tight enough that she can't move, then I lift that tiny little tank top and groan at her exposed breast. "You look so fucking delicious, Nina." Then I clamp down on her nipple, taking that tiny bud between my lips and teasing her with my tongue. She writhes under me, her thin panties the only barrier between her and my rock-hard cock. I make quick work of that, though. I pull the flimsy fabric over her hips, moaning as her scent fills my nostrils. I could breathe her in all day long, get intoxicated off her. I dip my head, and she tilts her head back as I find her sweet honey and savor it on my tongue. She's dripping wet, and I bury my nose in her folds, wanting to consume her. My tongue spears her core, and she cries out, her hands tangled in my hair as if she's holding on to keep from flying away. And holy hell, I want to suck her dry, to consume her, to crawl inside her and never leave. This woman is everything to me, sexy as all get out and so soft and vulnerable. I don't know if I'll ever get my fill.

"Please," she breathes, and I take her clit into my mouth and suck her in. Her legs writhe under me as I lift her ass to give me better leverage. I can feel her pulsing against my face, her wetness drowning me as she comes. I lap up every drop, eating her like she's my favorite meal. "Please," she says again, but this time she's pushing me away, trying to regain her breath. I grin against her but release my hold so I can look at her face. She's fucking radiant. The flames from the fireplace cast an orange glow on her skin, but it's more than that. She's glistening with sweat, and a wide grin is cast on her exhausted face. She looks up at me, her eyes narrowing.

"My turn," she says, sitting up and pushing me back. I fall but keep my eyes on her as her gaze lands on my cock. She licks her lips—those sensual, swollen lips—her blue eyes running the length of me before her hand does the same. She finds my balls and lightly runs her long fingernails over the most sensitive parts. I arch my back as she does it again, this time tracing a line down my cock.

"You like that?" she asks.

"Jesus, Nina."

The corner of her mouth lifts, and she leans down, her tongue tracing the same line her finger did. Then I'm in her hot little mouth, feeling every nerve in my body ignite as she glides her lips and tongue over my cock.

"You're killing me," I breathe, and she looks up at me, still holding me in her mouth. Her baby blue eyes are full of fire and ice, of innocence and lust—of everything that makes me wish I could run away with her forever, just forget the whole world. She looks at me like I own her, but really, she owns me. I am completely hers, and I cannot stand another moment not tangled up with her. It's so fucking beautiful, seeing her mouth around me this way. I almost come right then, except she pulls off and gives me a wicked grin.

"Are you waiting for something?" she asks, and the glint in her eyes makes me want to do dirty things to her. She's being slow and deliberate, and I'm a raging animal, ready to pounce.

"I am exercising all my restraint right now," I tell her. "But if you keep teasing me, I might lose all control."

She grins around my cock. And fuck, that look … the sheer wickedness in her eyes as she continues to taste me, to devour me, to thoroughly undo me. "Nina, baby, I'm not going to last if you keep going," I groan.

Her mouth leaves my cock, and I mourn the loss. But to bury myself in her will be nothing short of divine.

"Let yourself go," she says, then her mouth is back on my cock. And holy hell, it's a delicious undoing. I close my eyes, one hand finding and gripping her hair as she fucks me with her mouth. I don't push, though. I just want to feel her movements, to have something to anchor me as I completely drown in ecstasy. I feel the small tendrils of completion radiating from the crown of my head, through my veins, until my whole body is a tingling mass leading toward a fiery eruption. I cry out as I come, my hot ejaculate shooting into her soft mouth. She doesn't stop, continuing to devour me as I lose control. I am wholly gone, my eyes closed, head tilted back as I moan into the void, her mouth working me until there's nothing left to give. Just as I shudder back to reality, she lightens her touch, her mouth opening as her tongue laps up any remaining juices. When I finally open my eyes, she grins up at me, her mouth glistening with my essence.

If I had anything left, I'd take her just for that look.

"You naughty girl," I say, laughing as I regain my senses. She stands and brushes a kiss on my lips, and I don't even care that my juices are all over her. I grip the back of her head and she opens, letting me in as I taste myself combined with her sweet honey mouth. Her body presses against mine, and damn I just want to lick every inch of her curves.

We finish the night with a sinfully rich chocolate cake, each of us taking a humongous slice along with a scoop of ice cream. It's delicious, but nothing compared to Nina. I want to take this cake and smother it all over her body, and lick her until every inch of her is clean. Then I want to do it again. But the way her eyes are drooping, her body slumping against the counter as I take her plate away, I know she's exhausted. As soon as the kitchen is sparkling, I carry her to the bedroom. I'd only planned to sleep, but just looking at the curves of her body, the sleepy look on her face, and I feel like the greediest man alive. Luckily she doesn't argue as I sheath myself with a condom, then slip inside her.

"I got you," I whisper as she molds around me. It's a sensual dance, my eyes locked with hers, sweat glistening on her brow as we grind against each other. When she comes, I taste the salty skin of her neck, inhaling her sweet scent until I pour every ounce of myself into her.

Only then, with our scents mingling as I stroke her back, her head resting against my chest, do I finally fall into sleep—and what a sweet surrender it is.