Ty came home from the cattle drive with his brothers tired, cranky, and about full up on family. Particularly the kind of family that came with all these discussions he didn’t want to have in the first place.
But after he’d tended to the horses, he found himself ridiculously excited to get to the cabin. Not because he was suddenly overwhelmed with that sense of belonging he’d never felt on this land, like every other person clinging to the various branches in the Everett family tree. But because he wanted to see Hannah.
Ty was growing more and more obsessed with the wife he hadn’t known he had two weeks ago, and the funny part was how little that bothered him.
He threw open the front door, but she wasn’t there in the main room of the bunkhouse. He checked in the bedroom to make sure, but Hannah wasn’t there either. So, he bit back his impatience, cleaned himself up after his two days out on the trail, and rationalized that he couldn’t expect her to be hanging around for some private time before yet another family dinner when he’d never told her that was what he wanted. It wasn’t lost on him that these days, his version of private time involved sitting in a room in her company, instead of some of the far more entertaining ways he could think of to pass the time.
Nor had he forgotten that was all on him.
Maybe he’d taken his martyr act too far.
Ty went over to the big house to find dinner cooking, but no sign of Abby in the kitchen. Then again, his brother was obviously very happily married and could enjoy his wife’s company any way and any time he pleased.
But he was taken back when he stepped into the dining room to find Hannah and Becca hunched over the dining room table. Something about the way the two of them sat there, their heads close together and all their attention focused on the fabric Becca was running through the sewing machine, killed him.
Ty couldn’t really imagine what it was like to have a daughter. He’d never tried, as far as he knew, but it had to feel the way he did now, looking at a child he’d known since before she was born. Now too grown for his liking and paying close attention to his wife.
It was unbearable and it was perfect, all at the same time.
Hannah looked up as if she’d felt him standing there, and Ty would never tire of the look of her. That pretty face. Those eyes of hers, so blue it hurt, and yet so complicated at the same time. Tonight, she had her hair in separate, fat braids that framed her face. And he wanted to pick her up, wrap himself around her, and bury himself in her in every way he could imagine. And then a few more.
But instead, he smiled.
For a moment, while Becca was still focused on the sewing machine, Ty concentrated on his wife. And that electric, searing connection that stretched tight between them and held fast.
When Becca glanced up a few moments—or a lifetime—later, the sewing machine stopped. “Uncle Ty, how long have you been standing there? You scared me.”
“My bad, peanut.”
And he couldn’t wipe that smile off his face. He went back into the kitchen and pulled a beer from the fridge. He was standing at the window, watching the dark creep in over the fields, when he felt Hannah come up beside him.
Ty was used to the ache of it by now, but that didn’t make the kick of it any less bittersweet. It wasn’t enough any longer to stand beside her. To get the scent of her in his nose, to feel her in his gut, and still stand apart, keeping his hands to himself. And this distance he didn’t want anymore.
“How long have you been teaching Becca how to sew?” he asked, because he was an adult in his brother’s kitchen, not an oversexed teenager who didn’t know how to control himself. And wait.
“About twenty-four hours. This is the second lesson.”
Ty liked that Hannah was standing close to him. He liked that it seemed unconscious, as if she was as drawn to him as he was to her. “Glad to see she’s coming around to the idea of a new family member.”
Hannah gazed up at him, her eyes sparkling. “Oh, you caught that?”
“My women are very protective,” Ty drawled lazily. “They fight over me. It’s a curse.”
“She might even be fierce one day. But don’t worry, I have it covered.”
“I don’t know. Ordinarily my money would be on Miss Rodeo Forever, but a teenage girl?” He whistled. “That’s a whole different level of machination.”
“You forget that I used to be teenage girl myself.” Hannah grinned at him, nice and cocky, the way he liked her. “Like I said. I have it covered.”
Ty knew they had an agreement. There were rules, and he’d made them, but he couldn’t seem to help himself tonight.
He reached over and got his hands on her face, holding her cheeks between his palms.
She melted against him as if she’d wanted the same thing all along.
“Hannah,” he said, like her name was torn out of him. “Hannah, I…”
Her hands were on his chest, and he was sure they belonged there. Her body was arched into his, as if they really were puzzle pieces meant to be snapped together, just like this.
“Hannah—”
“Get a room,” came Brady’s disgruntled voice from behind them.
Ty took his time dropping his hands. Hannah’s gaze searched his for a beat, then she turned away and busied herself with getting dinner on the table.
And Ty spent the rest of the evening trying very, very hard not to murder his little brother.
But everything was still highly charged. He felt like he was vibrating with need. Hunger, and not for the hearty food that Abby served up. Ty didn’t care if it was memory or wishful thinking, because he wanted Hannah. He wanted all of her.
He was tired of only having part of her. Even if it had been by his own design and for the best of intentions.
But that wasn’t the deal they’d made. He’d assured her he would wait for her trust, not his convenience.
He didn’t say anything as they walked across the yard, side by side the way they always did. He didn’t put his hands on her the way he longed to or turn her toward him again, no matter how many times he imagined doing exactly that. He set his teeth. He clenched his jaw.
Ty assured himself that somehow, he wouldn’t die from this when they’d crawled into the same bed later.
Hannah seemed subdued. He wanted to ask her why, but he was afraid that if he opened his mouth, he would start begging. Not a great look.
Pull it together, he ordered himself.
She read her book for a while, then she excused herself to head off into the bedroom. Ty sat in the main room and told himself that he was made of stone. That he could handle anything without cracking or breaking his word. He listened to the water go on and there was a strange kind of peace in the fact he knew her routine. She took off her makeup, washed her face. Sometimes she did something else with her hair. She changed into her pajamas, then crawled into bed.
And he crawled in after her, then kept his hands to himself. Somehow.
There was silence from the other room, and then the sound of her feet scuffing against the floor.
Ty looked up to find Hannah standing in the doorway. She was wearing one of those tank tops she liked and he really liked, because it showed off her shoulders and made his tongue want to fall out of his mouth. And because it also hugged the rest of her, all those sweet curves he was doing his level best not to lose his mind over. Her pajama bottoms rode low on her hips, and he became unduly fascinated with the strip of smooth skin he could see between the hem of her tank top and the waistband of the pajama bottoms.
There was no denying it. He had it bad.
“You okay?” he asked. Gruffly.
“I’m terrific,” she said, and he couldn’t quite read that odd look on her face. “I like your family, Ty.”
That was unexpected.
“They’re okay,” he said. Eventually.
“Your sister-in-law in particular. She might be one of the nicest, kindest people I’ve ever met.”
“She’s good people. I told you that.”
“I like your brothers too. They both love you very much.”
Ty shook his head, that weighted thing in him suddenly much too heavy again. “They’re my brothers,” he managed to say. “They’re … annoying.”
Hannah smiled, and there was a sweetness to it. But there was also a sadness that Ty couldn’t understand. And didn’t like. He focused on the sweet.
“I wanted to thank you for bringing me here. You didn’t have to do that. I’ve truly enjoyed getting to know all of them.” She studied him. “I never met any of them before. I guess they didn’t come to watch you?”
“Gray met his first wife at a rodeo event,” Ty said dryly. “He lost his appreciation for the sport after that.”
“Even if they’d come to every event, it wouldn’t have mattered, I guess. I couldn’t have met them, then. It’s been a gift to meet them now.”
“Hannah. What’s going on?”
She hugged herself. “It takes a lot of trust to bring someone, a stranger, into your home. I wanted you to know that I recognize that. I was in there taking off my makeup. And I realized that you’re the only person I’m not related to by blood who’s ever seen me without it on.”
Ty waited, but she didn’t say anything. She only looked at him expectantly. And then laughed when all he did was stare back at her.
“You don’t even realize what I’m telling you.”
“I like you in makeup,” he told her. Carefully. “A lot. But you’re also gorgeous without it. Basically, Hannah, you can’t go wrong.”
“Thank you,” she said, still laughing. And the smile she flashed warmed him up, inside and out. “But Ty. What I’m trying to tell you is … I trust you.”
For a moment he didn’t get it.
Then he did.
It was like flipping a switch. All that hunger, all that greed and longing, everything he’d been trying to put a leash on and hide away—it all stormed through him.
And slowly, intently, he rose to his feet.
“Say that again,” he ordered her.
Hannah flushed, bright and red and so beautiful Ty wasn’t sure he could keep his knees beneath him. But he managed it. Her eyes were locked to his, wide and blue, and filled with a new kind of heat now.
He felt a burst of satisfaction when she had to reach out to steady herself against the doorjamb.
“I trust you,” she whispered. “With me. But I need to tell you—”
Ty started toward her, and she never finished her sentence. Her chest rose and fell. He could hear her breathing fast and it made his own speed up.
Ty made it across the room, but he didn’t stop in the doorway. He scooped her into his arms, tossing her over his shoulder as he headed straight for their bed.
The torture chamber where she had been all over him, and wrapped around him, and yet so out of reach for so long, he might be permanently cross-eyed.
She was laughing as he tossed her on the bed. And followed her straight down.
“You do not mess around,” she said as he rolled over her, finally stretching out and getting that lush body of hers beneath him. Finally feeling her soft and warm all over the place he wanted her most.
“Baby, you have no idea,” he told her.
Then he claimed her mouth with his.
Again.
At last.
Finally.
Hannah couldn’t get close enough to him.
Everything was better than she remembered. He was hotter to the touch. His shoulders were wider, harder. The way he kissed her was a lightning heat, setting her on fire, making her melt and shudder and fight to take more. To take everything.
The ways she wanted this man almost scared her.
She had despaired over her response to him, in all those lonely months without him. But this felt like a sacrament.
This felt safe.
This felt like home.
He shifted, rolling them over so she was sprawled across him. And she couldn’t touch enough of him. His arms. His chest. His wonder of an abdomen.
But he raised her up so she was sitting astride him, and he stared up at her for a long, shuddering beat of her heart. There was something possessive, dark and thrilling and blazing all over his beautiful face, and Hannah loved it. Exulted in it.
He looked like he couldn’t believe this was real. Like he’d never get enough of her.
It made a kind of chill roll through her, though she wasn’t cold.
Especially when he moved his hands from where they rested in the crease of her hips, sliding them up beneath her top.
“You are so beautiful,” he muttered, half a curse and half a prayer.
Hannah was right there with him.
His hands were big and callused. They were a working man’s hands, weathered and battered, and yet they were impossibly tender against her skin. He traced the line of her spine, and she could feel it everywhere. Where he touched her and all the places he hadn’t gotten to yet.
She couldn’t stop shuddering.
Ty had taught her how to do this, and Hannah wanted to do it with him. For him.
She reached down to find the hem of her tank top, then pulled it up and over her head, tossing it aside. He muttered something, and then his hands were there. He slid them over her belly, then tracked his way north until he filled his palms with her breasts.
Hannah arched into him, moaning at the contact. The friction. His hard, knowing hands right there where she was so sensitive.
He played with her, looking so intent that the heat of it kindled into a fire and burned through her. She rocked herself against him, thrilling at the hard ridge of him, flush against the place she needed him most.
She almost cried out, he felt so good. So right.
She was close already. Closer every time his thumbs moved hypnotically over her nipples.
“Go on,” he told her, a gruff, urgent command. Then he lifted his head, tilting her close and sucking one nipple deep into his mouth.
Hannah exploded.
It took her a good while to shudder back into herself, longer still to accept that this was real. That this was happening, again.
At last.
Ty rolled them over again, and it was suddenly a crime to her that he was still wearing his shirt. His jeans. She set herself to the task of removing them, laughing as he proved himself to be absolutely no help whatsoever.
He would rather touch her. Feel each and every part of her with his fingers, his palms. Taste her with his mouth. All over.
As if this were the first time.
Her heart kicked at her as she remembered that for him, it was.
And for once, the fact he couldn’t remember her didn’t fill her with pain. On the contrary, Hannah took it like the sweetest challenge.
She kicked her way out of the rest of her clothes, and then they were both naked, at last. Naked and together, touching everywhere, all the glorious differences between their bodies as much a joy to her now as they always had been. His hair-roughened legs next to her smooth ones. The scrape of his jaw, the play of his muscles, where she was soft and rounded.
Each its own delight. Each thrilling and delicious in its own right.
She could remember their wedding night so clearly. The way Ty had laid her out like she was precious. A prize beyond comprehension. He had called her wife. And he had slowly, carefully, taught her where all that heat and longing between them had been leading all along.
Tonight, Hannah could do the same for him. She could teach him exactly how good it was between them. Maybe her body could remind him of the things her words couldn’t reach.
Hannah devoted herself to the task as if she’d been born for it.
She moved over him like water, pulling out every trick she could. And not only because she wanted to make sure this was good for him, though she did. Desperately. But because she had missed him. She had missed this. He had taught her how to want and what to do with all of that need. Then he’d taken it away. And she had never really come to terms with any of it.
She laid a trail of fire down the center of his chest, picking her way across his scars, a living map of the life he had led. The amazing feats he had performed and then paid for with his own blood.
Each and every one of them made him who he was. Ty. Her husband.
The man she loved even now, when she understood at last that they weren’t meant to be together. That she couldn’t have him, not really. Not the way she wanted him.
She poured it all into each and every kiss.
Longing, regret. Loss. Love.
This was better than reading a book on a shared couch. This was better than careful conversation and too many stories, too many secrets. Because everything was better when Ty’s hands were on her, one tangled in her hair, one with a hard grip on her bottom.
“My God,” he groaned at one point when she’d made her way down to his feet, then moved back up again as if she wanted to anoint every single part of him with her love, one last time. “You know every single thing I like.”
“Of course I do,” she told him. She grinned up at him as she stopped there, where he was hardest. “You taught me.”
Then she indulged herself by taking him deep into her mouth.
Ty let out a groan that rumbled in her like thunder. She slid her way down him once, then again, the taste of him making her shake and melt between her legs.
But then he was jackknifing up to sitting position and pulling her off him.
“You’re killing me, baby,” he managed to get out, sounding so rough it was like another, better caress. “You might actually kill me.”
“That would not work for me at all,” she said, breathless as he shifted her around on the bed. Getting her beneath him again.
“Hannah,” he said, framing her face with his hands. She could feel the intensity of his gaze, bearing her down in the same marvelous way his chest was. “Hannah, I…”
But he didn’t finish that sentence with words. He twisted his hips and surged deep inside of her.
Hard. Hot.
Home.
Then he moved.
And Hannah moved too, matching him and meeting him, building that beautiful, bright and shining bit of fire that was only theirs. It burned her. It exalted her. The way it always had.
Hannah felt whole again. She felt like herself again. Every glorious slide of his body deep into hers washed away another week of isolation, of shame.
She felt clean, new.
Ty dropped his head to her neck. He pressed open-mouth kisses along the line of her collarbone. And his hands were big and bossy, as he moved her where he wanted her to go, then showed her why he was right. Why she wanted it too.
Hannah locked her legs around him and surrendered herself to the beauty of it.
Sheer joy, passion, and need.
It was still better than anything else she’d ever known.
This was why she’d kept their secret. This was why she’d lied to her mother, lied to the Rodeo Forever Association, lied and lied and lied some more.
This had always been worth whatever it took to get here.
When a new wave started to break over her, sending her spinning off into an even wilder sensation than before, something else broke inside of her.
“I love you,” she cried out. “I love you, I love you—”
Because she still did. Because she always would.
Ty followed after her, groaning out his release against her neck, so hard it might leave a mark.
She liked the idea of that.
It wasn’t until she could breathe again that she realized he hadn’t said he loved her back.