Chapter 18: Morning, Counter, Bed

Jo's POV

I read my mother's line twice on the legal pad, standing in Rafe's flannel shirt with the lake wind up my bare legs.

If she won't come, we call the sheriff and say she's not well.

"She means it," I said.

"I know she does."

"They'd have me in a car by Friday, and a doctor by Saturday."

"Not from my land."

He took the pad out of my hand and set it face down on the crate.

Then he looked at me for a long moment.

"Say what you want, Jo."

"Nobody's here to count it."

"Say it anyway."

"I want you in the kitchen," I said. "Now. Before I think about my father again."

He had me up the steps and through the screen door before I finished the sentence.

The hall kitchen was cold and bright and smelled of coffee.

He lifted me onto the steel counter, and the metal bit my thighs through nothing but the shirt.

I laughed, and he stopped the laugh with his mouth.

He kissed me hard and slow, with one hand fisted in my hair and the other flat on my back.

I got the flannel open down the front, and his hands found my breasts.

"No bra," he said against my throat.

"No time."

"I've got all day."

"You do not."

I pushed him back an inch, slid off the counter and dropped to my knees on the tile.

He said my name in a voice I'd never heard from him, rough and wondering.

I undid his jeans and pulled his cock out, and it was already hard, thick and heavy in my hand.

I looked up at him and licked him from the base to the head.

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