Chapter Forty - Diane

CHAPTER FORTY

DIANE

For the first time, I see someone other than Westin. Not because I have the courage, but because I hear a faint knock at my door around noon. I'm in a thick sweatsuit and socks because the floor is always cold this time of year. I brush my hair back into a ponytail and pad to the door, cracking it open.

Keira stands outside, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders. Behind her is a graying woman with a kind but stern face. That must be Maddie, the woman who runs the kitchen up at the ranch.

My mind goes right back to when Westin told me Keira killed Thomas. Maybe I should feel differently, but part of me wants to thank her for that. Instead, I just offer a little smile.

"Hello," Keira says. "Could…we come in?"

I nod shyly. I've never had a friend before. I'm not sure how this works. I step aside and let them in, trying not to stare. Maddie has a basket under her arm, and Keira has a plastic bag. She sets it down and dusts her hands off, offering me a smile.

I feel small and drab. Keira is one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen. Her hair is deep red, her light beige skin covered with little freckles, and her brilliant blue eyes are shaded by heavy lashes. Her body is curvy, with an hourglass waist and full breasts I can't help but be jealous of.

I wrap my arms around myself. I miss when my body was soft instead of stressed.

I miss everything about myself before Thomas.

"I'm going to make some food," Maddie says.

I can tell she's a no-nonsense sort, and it intimidates me. I used to be so fiery, but somewhere along the way, I lost that. Silently, I watch as she starts unloading the basket and piling food on the table.

"I brought some things for you," Kiera says softly. She has a sweet, low voice.

I try to speak, but nothing comes out. Flushing, I clear my throat.

"Thank you," I say. "You didn't have to do that."

Keira waves her hand, taking up the bag. "Do you want to go upstairs?"

Confused, I nod. She carries the bag upstairs, and I follow her until we stop in the hall. I push open our bedroom door. I cleaned it this morning, even washed the sheets, so there's no evidence of the things he did to me the other night.

Everything is neat and scrubbed. The surfaces shine.

Keira hesitates. "Is it alright if I go in?"

I nod, and she slips through, setting the bag on the end of the bed. I follow and wait with my hands tucked behind my back. Finally, she clears her throat and tucks her hair behind her ear.

"I was married to Clint," she says. "I know it's…hard going through that and feeling normal afterwards. I just wanted to make sure you had the things you needed."

Warmth sparks in my chest. "Thank you," I whisper.

She sits, folding her hands in her lap. "I know Westin has probably gotten you some clothes and things, but I wanted to make sure you had items like pads and tampons."

My cheeks feel warm. I've never talked to anyone about my cycle other than Nana and Westin.

"I don't have any left," I say. "And…um…"

I bite my lip, unsure how to say the rest. She waits.

"Um…I' ve never taken anything before," I manage. "I don't really know how to go about getting it. Westin…um, he hasn't mentioned what to do in that area."

Her brows knit. "Do you…sorry, what?"

"I need the pill," I whisper.

Her brows rise. "Oh, I see," she says. Her mouth twists like she's annoyed. "Westin should have…what…I don't mean to pry, but are you sleeping with him already?"

I nod.

"And…it was just unprotected?" she asks. "Is that what you want?"

"No, I mean, he pulls out…most of the time," I say in a rush. "And he did mention birth control, but not any steps to getting it."

Keira sighs, like she's disappointed in Westin. "When I was married to Clint, I just went to the clinic in South Platte. Now you can have it sent to Sovereign Mountain because we're so remote. I'll help you with it."

"Okay, I think that should be fine," I say, sinking down to sit on the armchair by the fire.

Keira dumps the bag out onto the bed. Inside are pads, tampons, painkillers, an electric heating pad, and two pregnancy tests. The knot in my chest that only eases with Westin lessens. I never had access to these things freely while living with Thomas. He didn't like me spending money on anything that wasn't for the house.

"Is there anything else I can get you?" she asks, offering a smile.

Already, I like Keira. She's soft and feels trustworthy.

"How do I get over it?" I whisper, dropping my eyes.

My thumbnail is peeling. I pick it.

She sighs. "Westin is a good man; you can lean on him. And I'm here, Maddie is here. She helped me a lot. It just takes time to learn to trust people again."

My eyes blur. Maybe I was hoping for a different answer.

"Let's go downstairs," she says. The bed creaks, and I hear her open the door. "Maddie is making lunch. I think everything seems better when your belly is full. "

I wipe my nose and offer a brave smile, following her back downstairs. The kitchen is warm and smells like chicken broth. My mind drifts back to being sick as a child and watching my Nana make chicken soup with homemade noodles.

"What are you making?" I ask.

Maddie rinses out the coffee pot and starts making a fresh batch. "Chicken and dumplings. I hope you like it," she says. "It's my family recipe."

I nod, sinking down at the table beside Keira, who has her chin on her folded hands. "Thank you."

The coffee pot bubbles. The dumplings smell so good, they make my stomach twist. Maddie starts talking about something to do with the spring calving season. Keira answers her. I'm focused on the realization that I could have friends. Other women. It's like a dream.

A bowl hits the table in front of me. It's huge, piled with thick, dark chunks of chicken and fluffy dumplings. On the plate beside it is a stack of biscuits covered in blackberry jam.

"Dumplings and biscuits?" I ask.

Maddie opens her mouth, and I see Keira shake her head from the corner of my eye.

"I had leftover biscuits," Maddie says quickly. "Eat up."

I'm getting tunnel vision. Yes, I've eaten since I came here, but not like this, and it has always been just enough for two. Westin eats a lot of lean meat and eggs, and they don't fill me up.

Keira pours coffee. I start eating, and suddenly, my eyes are wet.

"Are you okay?" Keira asks.

I nod, sniffing. "I'm just a lot happier than I was."

"Well, don't let it get in the way of you having hot food," Maddie says. "Go on, girl, eat."

Keira and I laugh. Obediently, I start eating and keep going until I can't fit anything else in my stomach. The dumplings are perfect, savory and soft, melting on my tongue. The chicken is hearty, the vegetables fresh, the broth thick. When my bowl is empty, Maddie takes it and gives me an approving nod .

"Good," she says. "I'll have a chat with Westin about getting some things from the grocery store."

We have coffee, and I relax enough to ask some questions about the ranch. Maddie lives in employee housing with her husband while Keira lives with Sovereign in the ranch house. I'm dying to ask her about that, because I can't see someone as sweet as her with a man like him.

We have coffee. Maddie unwraps a sticky chocolate cake drenched with canned cherries, and we eat it slathered in fresh whipped cream.

Then, Maddie pulls out a little bottle of red wine. We have a glass each, even though it's only three in the afternoon.

The room is warm. I'm safe. My heart doesn't hurt.

Is this what the rest of my life could feel like?

"We'll do this again next week," Maddie says as she gathers up the empty dishes.

I don't say a word in protest. We clean up, and I stand in the door and wave as they head back to the ranch house. Then, I call Billie in from the barn over the hill and feed her by the fire.

She stretches out. I'm so sleepy, all I can do is put a bowl of leftover chicken and dumplings in the microwave for Westin and head upstairs to bed.

It's dark when I wake to his boots on the bedroom floor. He sinks down on the edge of the bed and sighs. Sleepily, I roll over to touch his lower back, and he turns.

"I didn't mean to wake you, darling," he says.

I push myself up on my elbow. "Where were you all day?"

He turns his body, looking down at me. He's a shadow, but I know by the lines of his profile that he's serious.

"In the city," he says.

"Why?"

"I had business," he says. His hand slips in the pocket of his work pants. I hear change, his keys, then a crinkle. He takes out a candy and holds it out. I open my lips and let him put it on my tongue.

Sweet, chewy lemon—he remembered my favorite .

He clears his throat. "My father always brought my mother candy when he came back from town," he says, his voice low.

I swallow. "That's sweet."

He looks down at the wrapper in his palm. "Yeah, it was."

Something is going on with him. Usually, he hides behind his barricade. Tonight, he feels naked. He shifts, sinking down to his side so our faces are inches apart.

"I went to Carter Farms," he says.

"What? Really?"

"Really."

"Why?"

He bends in, and his lips brush mine. "So that when you wake up, you can go down to the barn and find two horses named Sunshine and Gracey waiting there for you."

My heart melts. It falls right out of my chest and into his hands. I wrap my arms around his neck and he laughs softly, lifting me into his lap.

"You got my horses," I whisper, trying not to cry.

"Stole them," he says. "But yes."

A broken part of me shifts into place. His beard is rough on my temple. His broad arms encircle me like a fortress, his hands steady as they hold me.

"Are they okay?" I whisper.

"Safe and sound."

I wipe my face and lift it, stretching to kiss him. The kiss deepens, and my eyes close, a little moan working its way up. He gives me a hint of tongue, and I let him know I want more, parting my mouth so he can consume me. When we break apart, we're both breathless.

"Have me," he says, voice low and urgent.

The words are mostly a demand. Maybe if he wasn't hard beneath my thigh, there'd be some question in them.

"What does that mean?" I whisper.

He slides down my body and uses his head to shove my thighs apart. My slip falls back, exposing my sex. He touches the lace trim, turning it in his rough fingers .

"So pretty," he murmurs.

My mouth is dry. I'm not sure what's going on with him, but it scares me a little. He glances up from between my legs, and his eyes are bright but distracted. One hand slides up my belly, and I weave my fingers through his. In the dark, I run my fingertips over his scars.

Sometimes, I feel much older than twenty-one. Other times, I feel just that.

Tonight is the latter.

I forget that he has thirty-seven years hidden away behind those bright eyes. If I had to guess, there's a lot of heartache in him. I think a little bit of it came in on him with the cold tonight.

I close my eyes. His grip tightens, and his tongue slides on my pussy. He licks it—not like he's trying to get me off, but like he wants the intimacy of oral. I must be right, because with his other hand, he pushes up my thighs so they close around his head. Then, he uses his tongue to touch me, his lips to kiss me, and his breath to tease.

It feels like hours later when he resurfaces, but it's only a few minutes.

I'm drenched from his tongue and my own arousal. He moves up and pushes my legs open. Silently, I let them fall slack, giving him access. He braces his knee, I feel him reach between us. Then, his cock slides in, stretching me slowly as he pushes to the hilt.

I moan, biting my lip.

"Good girl," he says.

He pushes himself up on the heel of his hand. In the shadows, his hard abdominal muscles ripple. I wince, savoring the little twinge as he bottoms out.

Jaw gritted, he pulls out and thrusts hard and slow back inside me. He's still in his pants, pushed just below his groin. A handful of white wrapped candies fall from his pocket.

He keeps fucking, hard and slow. My body tightens at first, but then it loosens, and my pussy takes him easily. I'm soaked now. I hear it, feel it as he fucks. I can't bite back the soft moans. Maybe I love him like this, stern and holding back his natural violence .

He sweeps the candies aside with one hand. They clatter on the floorboards.

Before I realize what's happening, he pulls from me and flips me to my knees.

"Hands on the headboard," he says.

Obediently, I grip the leather and wood with both hands. He takes hold of it too and lifts my hips with his other hand. His hot, hard chest presses to my back, and I feel his groin against my ass. Then, his blunt cock pushes into my pussy, and I let my head fall back against his shoulder.

He pumps, deep.

"I'm not what you want," he gasps. "I'm selfish…destructive."

My stomach goes cold.

"But I'm just selfish enough not to give a fuck," he breathes. "Goddamn it, darling, have me anyway."

I'm frightened now. His hand comes up and grips my throat, holding me as he fucks. Something changed.

I cling to him, cowed. I don't understand men, don't know why they do what they do, how they can be so cold and rough but so driven by their desires. So hard on the surface. So soft under their armor.

My eyes flutter shut.

The gunslinger is deadly, but the gunslinger begs for me in the dark.

He takes a branding without saying a word. He shoots men off their horses, blood running down his back. Then, all it takes is the little lace slip he likes best, and he's desperate.

Maybe he's not the one with the power in this contract.

I'm drunk off that thought. His pace picks up, his grip firm around my neck. His cock drives hard into me, stroking up against my G-spot.

"God, I can't get enough of you, you pretty whore," he pants. "You drive me insane."

His teeth score my shoulder, his hand tightening on my throat. My head spins .

"The first time I met you, I could see those pretty tits under your dress," he pants. "If it had been one day later, I'd have fucked you up against the hallway wall."

I moan, my pussy clenching around his cock.

"What you did…wasn't much better," I manage.

"And you liked it," he breathes. "You loved what I did to you."

Pleasure lights up like a match.

He's right; I loved it.

I loved that he was older and dangerous, that he hung his pistol on the bedpost before fucking me, even though he had no business doing that. I used to close my eyes, spread my thighs, and touch myself to the memory of him taking my virginity.

God, I'm just as bad as him.

I orgasm hard, wetness slipping down my thighs, lips parted, shaking in his arms.

"That's a good girl," he says. "Come, you beautiful slut."

He's close, I can feel his pleasure approaching. I can hear it in his quickening breath, the way it hurts when he bottoms out, in his narrowed gaze. He loses a bit of his humanity when all he can think about is his own desire.

I reach back to push him off me, but he grips my wrist.

"Westin," I pant. "Please, pull out."

He falls over me so we're both on our hands and knees.

But he doesn't stop.

My stomach goes cold.

"Trust me," he says, his voice a low growl in my ear.

His hand covers my mouth. My heart pounds. I'm not sure I should trust a man who admitted he wants to get me pregnant. Then, my mind goes back to the amendment.

He promised.

High off fear, I let him ride that edge, knowing if he doesn't remember his humanity, we'll be broken in the morning.

He takes me hard, his hand over my protests. I'm moaning, maybe as aroused as he is by the prospect of breaking the rules .

But then, at the very end, he comes back to me. His body leaves mine as he turns me on my back. Then, he falls over me and his mouth captures mine. Warmth spills between our bodies, pooling on my stomach. He groans against my tongue, and when our kiss ends, he stays close, like he wants to breathe my air right from my lungs.

"Have me, darling," he whispers. "Trust me."

I don't know what he means.

"Yes, sir," I whisper.