IT WAS A MISTAKE. She knew that it was a mistake. She was already a whole lot more attached to him than she should be. Already a lot more attached to him then she had ever intended to be. And now she was going to sleep with him again. Maybe a lot of agains.
But she was just so sad. She had been ever since Benny left, and she was trying to be logical about all of it but she just was having a really hard time.
Brody was gorgeous, and he made her want to feel, not think. He made her want to escape the dead zone that was her heart at the moment because everything just felt so difficult. He was the kind of hard she wanted. Hot and muscular and burning for her.
She needed that. Because today had felt like one long rejection, and even if it wasn’t, this, this man being drawn to her, wanting her, needing her, that meant something. It meant so much. It meant more than she could ever put into words.
“Brody...” She said his name as soon as they exited the tavern, and then she found herself getting pressed up against the side of the building as he kissed her. And it was so hot and wild and unlike anything she had ever experienced. She had never made out with a man in public. They had gone around the back of the barn that time, and that had been the closest she’d ever come. But they were just a few feet from the door, and he was plundering her mouth without any shame. Owning what they were about to do.
And it made her feel giddy. Free.
How much of her life had she spent folding in on herself? Making herself smaller. Making herself acceptable, because that was what you had to do when every situation in your life had been based on someone else allowing you there because of their good graces.
That was foster care. Even when it was good. Somebody was benevolent, so they were letting you live with them. That had been what it felt like the entire time she was with a man that she had thought was too good for her. The entire time. That she had to be on her best behavior, that she had to do the right thing. The best things. That she always had to dress a certain way and talk a certain way and act a certain way, and that she could never betray where she had come from.
This was low-class behavior.
Her mother-in-law would call it that for sure. Carter probably would too. Ashley would probably, literally, clutch her pearls.
There was a time when Elizabeth would have also, but not so much because it shocked her. Because she thought that clutching her pearls was what she was supposed to do.
Frankly, she felt sorry for Ashley, who wouldn’t know what this was like.
Right now Elizabeth didn’t have to care. She wasn’t responsible for another human being for an entire two weeks. All she was responsible for was her own self. She could cook whatever she wanted. Eat whatever she wanted. Have dessert.
And tonight, Brody was going to be her dessert. For the next two weeks, she was going to indulge in him like he was a carton of ice cream.
The perfect place to drown her feelings.
She was so here for it.
And so she let him kiss her like that, in full view of everybody, felt his erection as he pressed against her, hard and glorious, and the memory of it made her shiver.
Yes. She wanted him. She wanted this.
More than anything.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, and pressed her breasts hard against his chest, arching into him.
He groaned, his hand sliding down her back, down to cup her ass.
“I can’t wait,” he said.
“You can’t wait?”
It was cold outside, but she was hot because of him.
“Come on, get in the truck.”
“The truck?”
“Yes,” he said.
They got in and started the engine, and he didn’t drive them back toward the ranch, rather he took a dirt road right next to the tavern, and drove up just a little ways, before going into the thick of the trees.
He reached into the back of the truck and pulled out a bunch of blankets. “Come on.”
“What?”
She got out of the truck, and went around to the back. He dropped the tailgate down, and piled the blankets back in it.
“It is freezing,” she said.
“That’s with the blankets are for.”
“Please tell me they’re clean blankets,” she said.
“Scout’s honor. I have not touched anyone else since you arrived at this ranch.”
“You’ve brought women here, though,” she said.
“I don’t remember,” he said. “I mean, I have. But I don’t remember it. I can’t think of anything right now. Anything but you.”
And then she decided to go ahead and ignore the truth of any of it. Maybe he meant that, maybe he didn’t. Maybe he said that to every woman he put in the back of his pickup truck, but she wanted to be here. Wanted to be here with him.
It was dark. And she had kind of wanted to see him. But this wasn’t going to be just one time. Two weeks. They had two weeks.
She sat on the blankets, and he knelt next to her, kissing her, reaching around and undoing the zipper on her dress. It fell away from her body, the night air biting into her skin. It was cold enough for snow. Suddenly, she didn’t really care. Logic wasn’t leading this train. Not remotely.
He leaned in and kissed her neck. And she shivered. “I want you so much,” he whispered.
And she was hot then. She had never done this. Sex in the back of the truck. Sex in any vehicle. She had never been wild for anyone before. And Carter had certainly never been wild for her. Not like this. She undid the top button on his shirt. Then the next one. And the next one. Her only complaint about the choice of venue was that she couldn’t see him all that well.
You will. When you do it again.
That gave her the encouragement to take it slow. To take her time. She moved her fingertips over his chest, down his stomach, and she felt him sucking a sharp breath when she made it to the waistband of his jeans.
She pushed his shirt off his shoulders, and while he went to work on his jeans and boots, she got rid of her shoes, her underwear. She shivered again, and he pulled her up against the whole length of his body. She wrapped her legs around his waist, as he brought her over the top of him, and lay back flat on the blankets. She let her head fall back, her hair touching the middle of her back, his hands moving up and down her spine, his thumbs brushing her hipbones, teasing just around the edges of where she ached for him the most.
He moved his hands up to cup her breasts, teasing her nipples. It felt so good. He felt so good. She could hardly stand it.
She had often thought that she might die a death by a thousand cuts. Little indignities and humilities that she had suffered all throughout her life. But it had never once occurred to her that she might die of pleasure.
Brody McCloud made a case for that.
She lowered her head and kissed him, kissed his chest, kissed down his stomach. She made it down to the thick length of his arousal and desire arced through her. She had never done this before.
The reality was, her sex life with Carter just hadn’t been very adventurous. They’d known what they’d known, and that was about it. And...
She had never felt overly invested in experimenting with him.
Because that just hadn’t been the focus of the relationship for her.
She skimmed her lips over his hard shaft, and he cursed, pushing his fingers through her hair. She took the broad tip of him into her mouth, and then sucked him in deep.
She was surprised how much it turned her on. His own response, the helpless groan that came from him, the way that he held tight to her hair. But also just... Him. The way he smelled, the way he tasted. She wanted everything. Absolutely everything. She worked him like that, bringing her hands in when her jaw began to ache, pleasuring him until he was swearing, until his hold on her hair was punishingly tight.
“Not yet,” he said, pulling her away from him and drawing her up his body. “Not like that. Not like that.”
“Well, someday like that.”
“Sure. We have two weeks. But that’s not how I need you right now.”
He positioned her over the blunt head of his arousal, and she rocked her hips back, sinking down slowly onto him, taking him inside of her inch by inch.
She let her head fall back, and she looked up at the stars, at the crisp white moon, everything so clear and bright and cold. The silhouettes of the pines an inky black against the velvet blue of that winter sky.
And Brody filled her. As the cold air filled her lungs.
She gripped his shoulders as she started to move her hips in rhythm with her desire.
She wanted this man. So much. And she was having him.
She was suddenly wholly in her body. In the moment.
Whatever else happened today didn’t matter. Only this. Only the way he made her feel. Only the way he amped up the desire in her. Because he did. And it was beautiful. Perfect. Just like him. She rode him until her thigh muscles started to shake, until her orgasm rolled through her like a thunderclap. Then he growled, holding on to her tightly, flipping their positions and laying her down on the soft blankets, positioning himself between her legs and thrusting back inside.
He went hard. Fast. She couldn’t catch her breath. It was glorious. The only sound was them and that clear quiet wilderness. Their need. Their desire. As if it was the only thing that mattered on earth. As if it was the only thing that was real. And everything else was a dream.
She felt a climax begin to build inside of her again. And she held on to his forearms, her fingernails digging into his skin as he roared out his release, the same moment she found hers.
“Brody,” she said, his name making it real. His name a spell. An incantation to keep the moment going. To make sure she didn’t have to be outside it.
She desperately didn’t want to lose this. Lose him. She desperately wanted it all. Everything. Everything.
He shifted, pulling one of the fuzzy blankets over the top of them, and holding her against him, kissing her head.
“We can’t fall asleep out here,” she mumbled. “Oh gosh. I would be a headline. ‘Single mom gets freaky in the backwoods and freezes to death after illicit romp.’”
“Would that be the headline?”
“Yes. Whenever possible, women are mothers in headlines.”
“Why do you suppose that is?”
“I don’t know. To make it matter more? To make people feel bad? In this case, it would be to make my actions all the more shocking. I clearly should never have done anything so irresponsible, since I have a child.”
“Well. For the next two weeks the only person you have to please is you. I promise I won’t let you freeze to death.”
“I appreciate that.”
“I try to be a considerate lover.”
“Keeping me from freezing to death really is expanding things.”
Her heart was beating so hard, like it was trying to jump out of her chest. She loved it. Loved this.
She held on to him for a moment, her hands pressed against his chest as their breathing returned to normal.
Then he kissed her on the top of the head, and sat them both up. “We better hunt for clothes, or we really are going to become a cautionary tale.”
She put her underwear back on. Put the dress back on. And for the first time in six years, the dress didn’t feel... Like her. Her clothes didn’t feel like they belonged to her. Which was crazy. Because of course they did. They were the only things she’d had for six years. And they had been so much a part of her identity. That woman who looked sophisticated and classic, and rich. Even though she wasn’t any of those things.
They didn’t fit her now. Not now. Not the woman who’d had crazy sex in the back of a pickup truck with Brody McCloud.
He’d called her Lizzie.
She pushed that away.
He got dressed too, and they got back in the truck. He settled a blanket over her lap as he started the engine.
She snuggled into it.
“Will you come back to my place?”
“Yes,” he said, without hesitation.
She had a feeling that was momentous for him. But she didn’t ask about it. Instead she thought she’d give something to him.
“I took these clothes. In the divorce. And I have taken really good care of them, because there’s no way that I could ever afford to buy clothes this nice again.”
“Oh.”
“What?”
“It just explains some things.”
“Like what?”
“Why they don’t really look like you. I made a lot of assumptions about you, based on those clothes. But I don’t think... They’re not really you, are they?”
“No. I wanted to be... I wanted to be something different than what I was. My...”
Tears gathered in her eyes. She didn’t know why she was telling him this. Didn’t know why she was even mentioning it at all, except he had called her Lizzie.
“My name isn’t Elizabeth.”
“What?”
“Well, that isn’t true. It is. You know, you can change your name to anything. And when you get married, your name doesn’t just change. You have to change it, and it seemed like a good time for me to change my first name too. Because I’d been going by Elizabeth for a long time.”
“What was your name then?”
“Lizzie. Just Lizzie. No Elizabeth. But it sounded so... Sounded like the name a teenager might give to her kid. Which is exactly what it was. It wasn’t a real name. Not to me. It just made me feel different. Of course, most people assumed it was a nickname. But there were lots of times when grown-ups would ask me if it was short for Elizabeth, and I’d have to say no. And see how mystified they were by that. Because it’s usually a nickname.”
“Yeah. But that doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with it. It doesn’t mean there was ever anything wrong with you.”
“I don’t see how that can be true,” she said. “Because it sure feels like there is. It sure feels like there always has been. Things got a lot easier for me when I became Elizabeth Colfax. And not Lizzie Barton.”
“Is that why you kept his name?”
“No. I kept his name so that I would have the same last name as Benny. But I realized when Ashley introduced herself to you the other day just how weird it is. I don’t especially like being connected to them. Not because they’re awful. They aren’t. Just because... You know, it’s all those connections. I don’t think I have my own life, Brody. I really don’t.”
“Can I call you Lizzie?”
“Sometimes,” she said, her chest getting tight.
“I’ll call you that. And nobody else will. So there you go. That’s your own life. Something no one even knows about. The name no one else is allowed to use. And you like it, because when I say it, I’ll be making you come.”
She throbbed between her legs. She couldn’t help it. How did he make her feel things in her heart, and in intimate places, all at the same time?
Because they’re all intimate places. That’s how.
That was a sobering thought, and one she didn’t particularly want to latch on to.
“Let’s go home, Lizzie.”
And she was glad to hear him say that.