Frankie leaves me hanging for too many seconds. “Not even a little bit, but let’s try it to confirm.”
Byron guides me to the end of the aisle where there’s a staircase. The wood steps creak beneath our climb that delivers us to a large, open space. Square bales are stacked from floor to ceiling, but there’s a section near the front that’s empty.
“The hayloft?” I can’t recall visiting this part of the barn before and spin in a slow circle.
Byron approaches me from behind, settling his hands on my hips. “It’s comfortable.”
My head rests on his chest and I glance up until our gazes connect. “I’m failing to see how getting poked by straw will be pleasant.”
He grinds into me, revealing how hard I get him when we’ve barely touched. “You’re about to get poked by something bigger than straw.”
Desire burns through me to pool in my lower belly. “I thought making love was supposed to be slow and sensual.”
“Doesn’t matter how fast we go. I’m still filling you to the brim. And look.” He tilts my chin to the oversized skylight above. “We’re going to make love under the stars without freezing our asses off.”
My butt rocks against him to the pulsing thrum that’s beginning to consume me. “When does that start?”
He sweeps my hair to the side and peppers kisses along my jaw. “Right now, menace.”
And then his wall of muscle disappears. Byron stalks to a trunk in the corner that I didn’t notice. Its rusty hinges squeak open and he digs inside. A patterned blanket is in his grip when he straightens to stride back to me.
“Why do you have that in the hayloft?” Seems like a nightmare for fabric of any kind.
His brown eyes gleam in the low lighting as he spreads it out on the floor. “Ronnie likes to have tea parties and picnics up here. Pretty sure you’ve attended a few.”
That detail slipped my mind in the heat of this moment. A swoop flips my belly. “Gosh, you’re such a good dad. It’s almost unbelievable.”
His lips kick up into a smirk. “I’m also a really good boyfriend. After I’m done dicking you senseless, you’ll be completely infatuated with me.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Not on your daughter’s play blanket.”
He grunts as if I’ve offended him. “This is new. I’ve never had a reason to use it.”
“Saved for a special occasion?” My heart drums to a chaotic beat when his smolder blazes into me.
“Can’t think of a better one,” Byron rasps. “C’mere, baby.”
One of my brows ticks up. “Baby?”
“Pairs well with honey. We’re sticking together for always.” He extends an arm toward me.
All I have to do is take it. The distance between us closes at a tortuous pace, giving my sanity a second to recover. It’s been through a lot of adjustments lately. Once I’m within reach, Byron pulls me tight against him. Our mutual affection is a feral beast that’s about to be sated.
We shed layers like thick, armored walls crumbling down. Discarded clothes pile on the floor in a rush to expose our scars. With each article dropped, I feel exposed but seen. Byron’s fingers unclasp my bra and the final barrier is tossed away. We stand bared to each other—loved and accepted with our flaws on display.
After he guides me down onto the blanket, I bury my nose in the woolly fibers. “It smells like home.”
Byron lowers himself on top of me, propping up on an elbow as I lift my bent legs to bracket his hips. “What’s that smell like?”
My lashes flutter shut as I give myself permission to be vulnerable. “Your addictive cologne that reminds me of the forest in spring. A healing caress I hadn’t felt before. Hazelnut coffee that you brew to barista quality. Dirty talk that’s so filthy it makes my toes curl. The warmth of your smolder on a lonely night. Things we’ve never done but will together. Everything you’ve given me.”
“Damn,” he breathes. If I’m not mistaken, there’s a slight shine in his stare. “That’s…”
“What you mean to me, but there’s plenty more where that came from.”
Byron gulps. “Not sure I can express myself quite as eloquently.”
“Don’t have to use words. Just show me.” With my ankles crossed behind his ass, I give him a gentle pull for encouragement.