25. Marnie

Ho-ly shit.

That might be one for the history books.

I lay under his hard body, trying to catch my breath. My pussy is twitching around his semi-hard shaft. Weaving my arms under his, I coax him to give me more of his weight. It feels good to lie like this. Every muscle relaxes, submitting to his superior size.

He’s a funny guy. In the daylight, he’s this disarming, sweet country boy. Charming and quick to smile. But the second his blood warms up, he’s ferocious. Domineering.

If any other man tried to claim my pussy, and I mean any other man, I would have probably clobbered him. But Dusty has the skills to back up his confidence, and I had no problem saying whatever he wanted me to.

I trust him, for one thing. I haven’t known him that long, but it’s a gut instinct. And even though I’m older than him, this is one area where he clearly has the upper hand. My pride isn’t so big as to get in the way of a good thing.

And that man’s cock is a very good thing.

My fingers trail up and down his back and he sighs, trailing kisses along my collarbone. And then he’s slipping out of me, despite my weak protests. He uses his cell phone as a flashlight, leaving me with the lantern. I can hear him moving around in the bathroom.

The storm has died off, but thunder still rumbles in the distance. When he comes back, he’s got a big quilt under his arms. He spreads it out over me, letting it flutter down to mold my body with its comforting weight. Peeling back the blanket, he slips in beside me, rotating us so that I’m laying on his chest, between his legs. I’m happy to report he’s still one hundred percent naked.

I rest my chin on his chest. “Has the storm passed?”

He sets his phone aside and runs his hands up and down my back. “The first storm cell. There’s another coming this way.”

I lay my cheek against his chest, trying to absorb some of that strength. “Ah.”

His fingers find my hair, and he runs his fingertips along my scalp. “You don’t like storms, do you?”

I trace lazy circles across his chest. “Is it that obvious?”

I can almost feel him smiling. “No. Just a hunch.”

His arms wrap around my body, caging me in their protective circle.

I snuggle closer, letting my legs tangle with his. “What about you?”

“Me? I like them.”

He chuckles. “My mom used to call them summertime treats.”

My eyebrows fly up. “A summertime treat?”

“Yeah. They’re kind of beautiful, if you can get past the whole deadly aspect.”

“That pesky deadly aspect.”

His fingers run up and down my arm. “You have nothing to worry about, though.”

“Yeah? And why’s that?”

“Because I’ll protect you.”

Maybe it was intended as a flip comment, but there’s a conviction to his words that sends a little shiver through me. If only I could lean on him. I need a protector. Lord knows I do. One by one, my people are being peeled away from me, leaving me standing on shaky ground. It gets pretty exhausting going through life on your own.

But this is temporary. Once I sell off this land, there won’t be any reason for Dusty and me to see each other anymore. He lives in Silver Bend, and I live in Lincoln. I need to get back there as soon as possible. Each day my bakery stays out of commission, my odds of rebuilding drift away.

I slip over to his side, wedging myself between the couch and his long body. It’s a wide couch, and surprisingly comfortable, especially snuggled up against a complete fox like Dusty. It’s too bad I can’t shove him into a moving box and drag him back with me.

But as long as we’re out here, forced together, I’m going to enjoy being around him.

My mom always told me to take each day as it comes.

And that’s what I’m going to do.

He takes a deep breath. My body rises alongside him as his chest expands. And then he releases it, his soft breath feathering my skin. His fingers hook around my side, skimming possessively under my breasts. He cranes his head down, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

I snuggle closer, trying to understand why that tender kiss makes my chest ache so badly.

He reaches over, flicking the lantern off.

Thunder rumbles in the distance and the occasional flash of lightning casts the room in pure, white light.

From the safety of Dusty’s arms, I can almost see it. What his mom was saying.

These storms are powerful and destructive. But they’re temporary. Fleeting.

And there’s a beauty in that.