Regret at Roosevelt Ranch Page 10

  One layer of fabric between them.

  It was not enough.

  It was too much.

  She arched, bringing their pelvises into perfect alignment. “Are you going to make love to me, Henry?” she asked. “Or do I need to distract your mind?”

  He could barely process her words he was so turned on. “I—” He broke off on a groan when she shimmied against him, and the devil woman had the nerve to smile sweetly up at him, mischief dancing in her eyes.

  “Distracted enough?”

  Another movement that had sweat breaking out along his spine.

  “So. Fucking. Dangerous,” he growled, having at least retained enough presence of mind to reach over her and pull out a condom from his nightstand drawer.

  A heartbeat later, he’d torn it open with his teeth.

  One more to strip off his boxer briefs. Another to roll it down his length.

  He paused, lungs tight, heart pounding.

  “Yes,” she murmured.

  And he couldn’t have waited another second to be inside her.

  Slowly, Henry slid home, jaw clenching at the perfectness of her. Wet and tight and hot, it was almost too much. But it had also been too long. He wanted to savor her, appreciate the way she felt, the way being like this with her made him feel. He wanted—

  She tightened around him. “Move, Henry.”

  Savoring was suddenly the last thing on his mind.

  He pulled out, pushed back in, tilting his hips so he rubbed against her clit while also hitting her G-spot. Yes, he was chasing an orgasm that was already prickling on the edges of his consciousness, but fuck if he was going to allow himself to fall over the precipice without Bella coming at least one more time.

  Her fingers dug in his shoulders, a moan escaping her lips.

  Yup. That was the spot she liked.

  And he liked the motion, too. Way too fucking much.

  Because his best intentions or not, his orgasm was coming

  Too fast. Too fast.

  He didn’t realize he’d spoken the chant aloud until Bella cupped his cheek and said, “No, baby. More. Faster.”

  The leash on his control snapped.

  Henry moved. In and out, faster and faster, until her Bella was groaning and moving against him, coaxing him on and then . . . finally—thank God because he was so fucking close—she stiffened and cried out, tightening around him.

  That was it for him.

  One stroke. Two. And he exploded.

  Sixteen

  Bella

  She was humming as she worked in the kitchen, slicing the apricots she’d gotten from Jim and throwing them into a pot to cook down into a compote.

  Bella was going to break her own rule by staying over at Henry’s place.

  He was getting dressed so he could drive her home.

  Ridiculous man.

  She’d rented the apartment for a reason. Before tonight she had made herself go back home, no matter how late her and Henry’s time together went, because she’d thought it important to have some distance between them as they got to know each other again.

  Tonight had shown her that was a joke.

  Keeping him at arm’s length when they worked side by side and spent every waking moment together was impossible.

  And then there was the fact that she didn’t want there to be space between them.

  Maybe it wasn’t the most prudent decision, maybe she’d end up with a broken heart in the end, but Bella also felt like she had wasted enough time. Who knew how long she had on this earth?

  She wanted whatever time she had to be spent with Henry.

  Plus, he insisted on driving her home every time, even though the distance between the house and apartment was only a few blocks.

  Equal parts sweet and infuriating.

  Sweet because he cared, because he kissed her so gently at her front door.

  Infuriating because she’d left an abusive relationship, flown halfway around the world, and started a new life. She didn’t need him to drive her home.

  But, her brain countered, he didn’t need her to cook for him.

  Well, she cooked because she cared, because it was one way for her to show it.

  Bella wrinkled her nose, knowing that Henry’s driving her home was along the same vein. It was obvious, logical, but she didn’t want her brain to be logical or mature.

  She wanted to pout.

  A hand snuck onto her cutting board, stole a sliver of apricot.

  “I thought I was going to drive you home.”

  She turned, pointed the knife at him. “Not anymore. Get the blue cheese out of the fridge. I have homemade crackers in the oven.”

  He hesitated, eyes drifting down to the end of her knife.

  Then he shrugged, but Bella saw his lips twitch before he turned and dug out the cheese. After he’d set it next to her, the oven dinged, and he glanced inside before she could ask him to check on the crackers.

  “Another minute,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the side of her neck and snagging another apricot off her board.

  She sighed but held up another piece.

  He ate it, nipping at her fingertips and making the space between her thighs clench.

  Three orgasms, she reminded her vagina. Just chill already.

  But it didn’t want to chill. It wanted Henry again.

  Bella gave an internal snort. When had her vagina become autonomous? Because it wasn’t just that she desired Henry or that she really loved it when he pounded into her, his cock hard and deep. Nope. She wanted him.

  Every part of her.

  Which was why she announced, “I’m staying.”

  He froze, tray hovering, crackers stalled mid-retrieval. After a moment, he blinked, extracted the sheet pan, and set it carefully on the counter.

  “I don’t mind driving—”

  “I’m. Staying,” she growled, grabbing a piece of apricot and shoving it into her mouth.

  First, he complained about driving her home. Now he wanted her to go.

  What the fuck?

  “Fine,” she snapped, slamming down her knife. “I’ll go.”

  Hands on her waist, lifting her and plunking her down on the opposite counter, well away from the sharp blade and simmering pot on the stove. Henry nudged her thighs apart, stepped between them. At which point, her vagina decided it was time to party, or rather, that it wanted to party with Henry’s cock, but Bella knew she needed to hold it together.

  Why? her vagina cajoled. You like it.

  Well, there was that argument. She did. She really—

  “I don’t want you to go.”

  Bella glanced up at him, eyes widening. “What?”

  He smiled. “You heard me.”

  “But—”

  “I’ve been pestering you to stay,” he said. “You don’t honestly think that because you’d surprised me with your proclamation that I don’t want you to stay, do you?”

  Her mouth opened. Closed.

  “Or maybe you’re worried that because we’ve had sex that something has changed?”

  “Something has changed,” she grumbled.

  “Has it?” he asked. “Or are you just feeling vulnerable?”

  Ugh. How did this man always know exactly what she was feeling? She didn’t want to feel vulnerable. She wanted to feel like she did before. All happy and orgasm-drugged and—

  “That’s it, isn’t it?” he teased. “My brave, tough, gorgeous Isabella is scared.”

  She pushed at his chest. “Shut up,” she snapped, but even as the sharp words penetrated the air between them, Henry just continued to smile. The jerk actually kept smiling. “Back up,” she said, shoving him again. “I need to get the crackers off the tray and check on the—”

  He didn’t budge.

  She sighed, stared at his rather lovely kitchen. Pale gray cabinets, white countertops, a double oven, and a big eight-burner stove.

  “Sweetheart.” Henry cupped her cheek and waited until she finally
brought her eyes back to his. “I love you.”

  Her breath caught.

  Hearing those words never got old.

  “I’ll drive you home.” A kiss to her forehead. “Or not.” Another to her cheek. “You can stay.” Her other cheek. “Or not.” He brushed his mouth across hers. “Don’t you see? I just want you, sweetheart. Wherever or whenever or in however much you’re willing to give.”

  “I—”

  She sniffed.

  Henry sniffed.

  They both reacted at once, darting over to the pan on the stove. He pulled it off the heat and shot her a sheepish grin.

  “My compote!” Bella glared at him, but she couldn’t stay mad, not when he looked at her like that. She sighed, lips turning down into a frown. “It’s ruined.”

  He swiped a finger into the pan, licked off the burned fruit mixture, and winced.

  “Yup. It’s ruined.”

  She shook her head, exasperated, but feeling decidedly less flayed open. Because of Henry. Because he’d pestered and annoyed and cajoled her into realizing that he was vulnerable, too, that his emotions were as big and scary as her own.

  That he wanted her to stay but supported her if she went.

  Another piece of her heart was imprinted with Henry’s name.

  The man kept saying she was dangerous.

  Well, he was the one who kept snatching parts of her soul, taking them and transforming them into something more, transforming her into a different person.

  One she liked a whole hell of a lot.

  One he loved, even with her grumbling and snapping and—

  He spun her around, pressed a hard kiss to her mouth. “Plus, if you’re going to stay, we can make another batch.” A smile that stole her breath. “That’s the thing about second chances. We have the opportunity to make them even better than the first time around.”

  Bella stayed.

  And she made another batch of compote.

  And, Henry was right.

  It was even better.

  Seventeen

  Henry

  Monday night was beautiful. One of those perfect summer nights where the air was warm, but a light breeze prevented anyone from getting too hot.

  The kids were out in full force. Max and Allie, Rob and Melissa’s kids, felt it was their duty as the older cousins to lead little Abigail astray. Or in this particular case, through an obstacle course of blocks, jump ropes, and chairs. Even the twins, who were toddling like crazy over the lawn to keep up with their cousins, tried desperately to get in on the action.

  Bella watched the activity with a smile on her face.

  She’d won over Kelly and Justin easily, coming prepared with a tray of apricot cobbler—Henry had talked to the farmer and now she was inundated with the small orange fruit—and a huge layered chocolate cake that the kids had gaped over.

  Melissa had crossed her arms upon seeing the desserts, sending Bella a mock-glare whose intensity was tempered by the amusement in her pale brown eyes. “You’ll have me out of my job in no time.”

  “Never,” Bella had replied before her cheeks went pink. “I have to admit that I have all of your cookbooks.”

  And another one bit the dust.

  Melissa had taken the tray from Henry then lead Bella into the huge kitchen of the main house. It was where her cooking show was filmed and where, in fact, the producer asked if he could have the cameraman, who was at the house to film some additional scenes that would be edited into shows later in the season, take some shots of the desserts.

  Bella had agreed and then pretty soon she was talking about her cake on camera, bubbly and confident and charming everyone in sight.

  First Esther. Then the town. Him. His mother. His best friend. Television producers.

  When would it stop?

  Henry smothered a grin. Probably not until she achieved world domination.

  “It’s really nice to see you so happy.”

  He turned and saw Kelly with Jessie on her hip. She reached for him, so he swung her up into his arms.

  “Rocket ship!” she yelled.

  He groaned.

  Kel laughed.

  And speaking of it being really nice to see someone happy. He was thrilled that his best friend had found someone like Justin. Unlike his twin brother, Rex, who was the biological father of Abigail and a royal asshole, Justin was a good guy.

  Rex, on the other hand, had taken advantage of a lonely Kelly, knocked her up, then skipped town.

  Of course, Kel had forgiven him. Especially after Rex had terminated his parental rights, thus allowing Justin to formally adopt Abigail.

  Justin had been there for Abby and Kel almost from day one, and the little girl knew no other father. He was a good one, too. Engaged, funny, kind, and caring. And though he was quieter than Henry’s own dad had been, there was something about Justin that reminded him of his dad.

  Loyal. Always had his back.

  He watched Justin swoop in and grab Jax before the little boy—who’d somehow managed to scale a fence post—fell to the ground.

  A quick word, an even quicker squeeze, and the toddler was on his way again.

  Case in point.

  A tug on his ear brought his attention back to Jessie. She was frowning at him. “Rocket ship!” she repeated.

  Henry did a quick round of math. Five kiddos. Two of which were getting too damned big for rocket ships, but who still would definitely want them. One back that wasn’t getting any younger.

  “Just two,” he told her.

  Tiny lips pursing as they considered his deal then a nod.

  “Two,” she agreed.

  Kel smirked. “I’ll help Miss bring the plates out. Maybe by then you’ll have thrown your back out.”

  “Why are we friends again?” He huffed, lowering Jessie to the ground in preparation for takeoff.

  “Because I’m awesome.” She turned for the house. “And my kids love you.”

  “Thee. Two. One!” Jessie shouted, still working on her R’s.

  Henry knew what she meant anyway and rocketed her high into the sky. Which was all it took for four pairs of child-sized feet to pound his way. Their voices layered over one another, each demanding their own turn, until finally, Jessie declared firmly and loud enough to be heard over the cacophony, “Two each.”

  Surprisingly, the kids all agreed and sat down for their turn.

  After the tenth and final takeoff, Henry collapsed on the grass. “Who’s going to give me a rocket ship?”

  There was a pause before Jax said, “Daddy!”

  Henry laughed and gave Jax a fist bump. “I think you’re right, bud. He’s the only one strong enough to lift me.”

  The kids nodded in solemn agreement before Kel’s voice rang out over the lawn, announcing dinner was ready and ordering them all to wash up. At the prospect of food in the near future, they took off, leaving him a limp pile of exhaustion in the grass.

  “You’re really good with them.”

  He’d known Bella was there, felt the prickle of awareness on his nape, the skip of his pulse.

  She extended a hand, a silent offer to help him to his feet.

  He placed his fingers in hers, tugged hard.

  “Eek!” She squealed, plopping down on top of him. The elbow he received on her landing was probably well-deserved, but it was also why it took him a moment to catch his breath.

  “Hey,” he said, wrapping his arms around her, keeping her close when she tried to get up.

  “We—”

  He kissed her.

  She stopped trying to push off him and kissed him back. It was affection mixed with exasperation, longing with a dash of tempered heat. Sweet and soft and almost soothing, but with just the slightest edge of desire that had his pulse pounding.

  A shriek penetrated his brain, jarring him enough that he pulled back.

  Bella’s eyes were closed, her lips red and swollen.

  “Do you want kids?”

  Because he could
picture a little girl with the same espresso eyes, identical brown hair.

  Her eyes flashed open, mouth working for a few seconds before she actually got the words out. “Of course, I do,” she said. “Someday in the future, for sure.” She glanced over at the front door of the main house when another happy yell reached their ears. The door was wide open, the threshold empty, the kiddos having disappeared inside. And by the sound of it, they were having a great time washing up. “Henry, we should—”

  “One more minute,” he said and kissed her again.

  She melted against him, one minute turning into more like five, or maybe ten.

  The second time they pulled apart wasn’t due to a kid, but rather because of Kel’s mom voice. Turned out she had a really good one.

  Or, at least knew the exact right threat to get Henry moving.

  “Hey, love birds,” Kel yelled from the front door. “You have exactly one minute before I’m setting the twins on you. They’re hungry and impatient, and you know how they feel about Aunt Melissa’s homemade mac and cheese.”

  Henry shuddered. The twins liked to eat.

  They also redefined the word hangry. Hevil was more like it.

  “Coming,” he called, shifting Bella off him and shooting her a sheepish smile as he stood. Her hair was a disaster, the ponytail having come halfway loose, tendrils falling all over the place. He extended a hand down to her, tugged her to her feet, wondering if he should offer to get some of the grass out of her hair or off her clothes or her—

  She sighed, brushing herself off before lifting the hem of her T-shirt away from her body and shaking it.

  Little pieces of grass fluttered to the ground.

  Accusatory eyebrows in his direction.

  Note to self, rolling around on the lawn got a lot more complicated when he had roving hands.

  Next was her ponytail, sliding the band free, shaking out her hair for a few quick seconds before sweeping it right back up into the holder’s tight grip. He’d watched her do the same thing a hundred times when they’d been together in the past, but seeing her do it today reminded him how grateful he was to have this second chance.