Chapter Fifteen - Diane

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

DIANE

I shake my head hard. I just want to see him get naked and show me all those hard muscles and scars. He gives me a lopsided smirk and starts unbuttoning his shirt.

He's pulling it off, revealing his tanned torso, the ridges of muscle down his stomach, the dark hair on his chest, and the trail going down to his belt. He starts on his pants. I stare, my jaw slack, as he unzips and pulls them off. He's in just his boxer briefs, tight on his body.

"Come here," he says, holding out his hand.

This time, I kick off my boots and slide down into the dust in my bare feet. He shuts the truck door.

I take a step closer until he's standing over me, looking down at me.

His hand comes up, rough as he slips the straps of my dress down, tugging it until it falls in the dust at our feet.

I'm in my handmade cotton bra and panties. They're blue and white striped with little yellow flowers embroidered on the edges. I swallow hard; he's looking at me like he hasn't eaten in days.

"Jesus—fuck," he says quietly.

"What?" I whisper .

He cocks his head. "Better not say what I'm thinking."

My stomach swoops. His big, hard hands slide up my sides, and I want to moan at how good it is to be held. Then, he's undoing my bra and pulling my panties down until I'm completely bare.

His throat bobs as his gaze drags over my body.

There's something dark about his hunger today. A chill moves down my spine, but it's not stronger than my desire.

I'd do a lot to be looked at like this forever.

"Why are you staring?" I whisper.

"Because you're naked," he says. "And the prettiest thing I've ever seen naked, at that."

"You're not naked yet," I whisper, uncomfortable being the only one fully exposed.

His eyes glitter. "Finish undressing me."

My arms wrap around my breasts, gripping myself tight. The hot wind makes my hair flutter at the small of my back.

"No, sir," I say, cocking my head.

His brows jerks. "You teasing me, darling?"

I nod. I don't tease anyone much, but it's not by choice. I don't like anyone well enough to tease them, but Westin is a different story. He likes it; I can tell by the curve of his mouth as he pulls his underwear off and straightens, fully naked and breathtaking.

I stare, transfixed. Every time we've had sex, we're already tangled up by the time his clothes come off. I've never stood back and gotten a good look at him naked.

I want to look him all over, but what I'm staring at stares at me first. I swallow hard. It's impressive.

"How do you ride with that thing?" I ask before I can stop myself.

He laughs. "I make it work."

I cock my brow, still unable to pull my eyes from his groin. He's big and thick, the dark hair at his base neatly trimmed. It blows my mind that part of him has been inside me, more than once. It's no wonder I'm sore when it's over.

Deep inside, I'm feeling like I have an itch he could scratch with that .

He takes a step back, ripples spilling out around him.

"Come here," he says.

There's a note of authority in his tone. He moves deeper until the water hits the V of muscle at his waist. I obey, making my way down the bank and stepping in. It's lukewarm from baking in the sun.

He cocks his head, watching me as I draw near, until the water is just below my breasts. He looks down at me, and I look up at him.

"Who hit you?" he says, voice low.

I swallow hard, dropping my eyes. A sunfish moves in circles around his body and disappears.

"Look at me, darling," he says. "Who hit your face?"

I drag my gaze back up. He's not going to let this go until I'm truthful.

"David pushed me, and I hit my head on the railing," I whisper.

My heart thuds like a drum. There's a long silence. His face is unreadable, but when I meet his eyes, my stomach goes cold. I've never seen someone look so angry and so calm all at once.

It's chilling.

"Does he push you a lot?" he asks.

I have to clear my throat to get the words out. "Not a lot. He pushed me down the porch stairs a few years ago. He took me by the throat once and slammed me into the hallway wall."

"I see," he says.

"Are you…going to do something bad?" I whisper.

Westin's eyes give me the shivers, like a frost is setting in. He reaches out and touches my face, cradling it. I melt into his touch, desperate for assurance.

"Don't you worry, darling," he says softly. "I handle my business."

"Am I your business?" I whisper.

"Yes," he says without hesitating.

I sink lower in the water until it covers my breasts and my hair floats.

"What is this, Mr. Quinn?" I say.

His brow crooks. "Mr. Quinn? That's Westin to you."

"Or sir," I say daringly. "I can tell you like when I call you that. "

I expected him to take my teasing the way he did a moment ago. Instead, he reaches down, taking me by the hair and lifting me to my feet. It doesn't hurt, the way he does it with his fist up against my scalp. I go willingly, too shocked to resist.

Between my legs is a raw heartbeat.

His hand slides down and cradles my head. His mouth brushes mine. I'm frozen, barely breathing.

How is he so gentle and stern all at once?

"I like when you call me sir," he says. "Because you are my business."

"I'm not yours, though," I whisper.

"Diane, I will brand my name onto your ass if I need to. Good luck being anyone's business but mine after that."

What the fuck is wrong with him?

What's wrong with me for not running?

I can't answer. The air between us is thick as a thunderstorm. He drags me even closer, hand on my neck, and he kisses me, but this time it's different. It's scorching hot and tastes like falling hard and hitting the ground fast.

A thunderclap. Heat like lightning in my veins. A storm I can't escape.

My lips open because he forces them, and his tongue swipes over mine. Then, it comes back for more. When he pulls away, the world spins.

"Let me have you," he says, his voice hoarse.

"You have," I gasp.

His eyes narrow. "No, I want all of you. No pulling out, no condoms, no leaving when it's done."

"I don't want—"

"I'm fine with it if you get pregnant." His eyes glitter, narrowed. "I'll take care of you. You come live with me at Sovereign Mountain."

It's not a question. My heart slows. Did he just say that? I shudder in his arms. I'm used to being ignored. I don't know how to be the center of anyone's attention .

But I can't hide from my feelings anymore. My heart is going soft for him. It scares me, even if it's what I want.

"Westin," I stammer. "I'm only twenty-one."

His jaw works. His gaze flicks up and focuses on something far away. He's thinking hard.

"If I leave, you'll end up in some other man's bed," he says grimly. "Either I stake my claim on you, or I lose you. I won't lose you."

My fingers flex. I'm gripping his wrist, although I'm not sure when that happened. My nails dig into his skin. He doesn't react.

I don't know if I can say what I want to say.

Or if I should just be quiet.

Fuck it, I've never been good at keeping my mouth shut. His hand is on my neck, holding me in the water. His rough thumb is dragging over my nipple and making it hard to think. I'm acutely aware of how my body reacts to his absentminded touch.

"You're a bad man," I whisper.

It sounds childish when I say it like that, but it's the kindest way to say what I'm thinking.

He glances down, and he's a little dead behind his eyes.

"What?" he says.

"I thought you were good," I manage. "You seemed so easygoing when I met you, but I think you might be…dangerous."

His jaw twitches, and my mind goes back to when I joked about Avery disappearing at Sovereign Mountain. Westin laughed a little too hard at that.

"Are you a criminal?" I whisper.

The corner of his mouth turns up. "What does me being a criminal have to do with you, darling?"

I frown, confused. "I'm trying to figure out who you are."

"Westin River Quinn," he says.

I pull back, and he lets me go, his palm leaving my breast. My feet sink to the bottom, and I scramble back, out of the water. I fall to the shore, dirt sticking to my naked skin.

He moves towards me, water rippling from his powerful body as he gets closer .

My heart pounds.

I think I fucked up. We're going too fast.

My survival instincts kick in, and I scramble to my feet, not caring that I'm naked. I can find something to cover myself with later. Right now, I need to put some space between myself and this man who lives behind Westin Quinn's mask.

I move past the truck, whirling to look back. He's not pursuing me—he's putting his pants and boots back on. Yes, he's working quickly, but it's giving me the time I need to bolt up ahead.

Right where the dirt road meets the paved one, there's a trailhead that splits north. I know it breaks off and goes up the field. It's a few miles, but eventually, it'll spit me out at the edge of Carter Farms.

I take it, scrambling down the hill. My feet hit the ground at the bottom, and that's when I hear him. I whip around, but it's too late. Somehow, he's right behind me. Then I'm in his arms, lifted off the ground and tossed naked over his shoulder.

I hang there, stunned.

This is the most undignified thing that's ever happened to me. I'm hot, and between my thighs pounds like a drum. I'm unable to speak until he sets me down at the water's edge in the soft mud, cool on my back.

"Run from me again, I'll put you over my knee," he snaps.

My jaw drops, but instead of indignation, heat flows through every part of my body, quickly followed by shame. On the outside, I want to scream, to fight him for catching me and bringing me back, but the other part of me is thrilled. The deep, deep down part I should be ashamed of.

That part basks in being the center of his desire.

And it wants more.

I gasp, pushing myself up on the heels of my hands. He's crouched over me, hazel eyes bright like an animal's stare.

"I'm not leaving, Diane," he says. "And neither are you."

My mind flits back to when he tied me to the steering wheel and fucked me. A dormant part of me woke up that day, a shameful part that wanted him to do something worse, like keep going after I beg him to stop.

My heart skips a beat. My mouth is dry.

Deep, deep down, I like that he's a little dangerous. An outlaw. The kind of man I can see breaking into my bedroom, tying me up, and… No, that's not right.

My head is all mixed up, but my pussy isn't. It's soaked.

"What if I try to leave?" I whisper hoarsely.

He cocks his head. "I would stop you."

"How?" I whisper.

His chest heaves. "I can show you, but you have to promise me that if I hurt you, you'll use a safeword."

"What's that?" My mind whirls. Does he have a term for what we're doing?

He's on his hands and knees over me. All I can see are his hungry eyes.

"Just use red for now," he says. "Say red if you want it to stop."

It hits me that Westin might be into things I'm not aware of, things that I only know about from the few romances I skimmed in the library, hidden behind the shelf out of shame.

He did put a belt around my neck, after all.

"You like rough…things," I whisper. "Different things…than usual."

He hesitates. Sweat etches down between his pecs. "BDSM—I do, but safewords are just common sense, darling."

He's so desperate, it cracks his voice. Distantly, I know what he's saying, but not in a literal sense. My head is telling me to be careful. My body is telling me it might die if I don't let him have me.

I want to give in and meet this new side of Westin.

"Yes," I pant, my hips rising. "I'll say red if I want it to stop."

"Say it," he demands.

"Red." It comes out in a desperate rush.

When I first met him, he was one thing. Now, he's another, darker thing altogether. I can taste it on him, on his breath. I felt it when he tied me to the wheel of his truck .

Those hands are capable of pleasure, but I think they're also capable of so much more, things I want but don't understand yet.

His hand comes up, going for my throat. I strike it back, the sound ringing out. We both know it's a test. He doesn't react for a second. My pulse thrums. Then, quick like a snake, he's on top of me, one hand pulling my thighs apart.

My head spins.

He's so much bigger and heavier than me. He was holding himself back in the kitchen. He was trying to be gentle so he wouldn't scare me—but not anymore.

He takes me by the throat, and his fingers dig into my cheeks, forcing my lips to part.

"Is this what you want? You want me to force you in the dirt like a whore?" His voice is thick with desperation.

I gag on his fingers as he hooks my mouth open. Then, he spits onto my tongue. I choke, shocked. Between my thighs, my sex burns with need.

I wanted to know what it felt like to be alive.

And now, I'm so alive, I might come from it.

I gasp, cough, and swallow. In the time it takes me to get my bearings, he flips me onto my stomach in the dirt. Our filthy bodies come together, and his knee shoves my legs open.

His zipper hisses, and my spine arcs as he pushes the head of his cock into my soaked pussy, forcing it in, inch by inch, until I'm whimpering. My inner muscles tighten and loosen, pulling him in despite how big and heavy his cock is.

I wonder if I'll bleed again.

My brain thrums. My nipples rub against the dirt.

This tastes like life, like a sweet apple bitten by his mouth and put into mine with bloody hands. I flip my head to the side, unwilling to fight him anymore.

He feels too good—all the pain and pleasure rolling through me is too powerful.

His hand braces in the mud by my eyes, hard, lean fingers digging in. Knuckles tense. The veins up his forearm stand out. My eyes roll back at the first thrust. He's big, and he fills me perfectly, like our bodies were always meant to be connected.

He pumps his hips, groaning. I cry out softly. His other hand slides into my hair and closes against my scalp, dragging my head back. His hips slam into me, and I see color for the first time in my life.

Beautiful, like a meadowlark rising dark against the golden sky.

Am I really supposed to give this up for Thomas Garrison?

There has to be another way to protect the farm. I can't walk away now.

I can't leave him.

I'm not the woman I was a month ago, and I never will be again. He made sure of that. I sank my teeth into the forbidden fruit. Now, I'm out of the garden, and I left with the snake.

But I know what it feels like to be alive.