He Sold My Mother's Farm, So I Got Engaged to His Best Friend novel · Chapter 7 of 24

Chapter 7: Upstairs

His bedroom door was open, and the lamp by the bed was on.

Hayes stood at the window with his back to me, his jacket already off and thrown over a chair.

He'd heard me on the stairs.

He didn't turn around.

"You walked up that hill in front of half the county," he said.

"I know."

"They'll talk about it at church tomorrow."

"Let them."

He turned around then.

His shirt was open at the collar, and his sleeves were pushed up over his forearms.

He looked at me in the doorway in my green dress, and he didn't come any closer.

"Say it," he said.

"I'm breaking rule two."

He smiled slowly.

"Want me to write it on your hand?" he said.

I laughed, and it came out shaky.

"You've been saving that all week."

"Since Monday night," he said. "Come here, Lainey."

I crossed the room.

He didn't grab me.

He took my face in both hands and kissed me, slow, the way he had behind the trailer.

Then not slow.

I pulled at his shirt buttons with my good hand, and two of them came off and hit the floor.

He laughed into my mouth.

"That was a good shirt."

"Buy another one."

He turned me around by the hips.

He swept my braid over my shoulder and found the zipper at the back of my dress.

He pulled it down an inch at a time, and his mouth followed it down my spine.

His beard scraped my skin, and I shivered all over.

The dress fell around my boots.

I wasn't wearing a bra under it.

He put his hands on my waist from behind and just held me there for a second, breathing against my neck.

"God almighty," he said quietly.

His hands slid up my ribs and covered my breasts.

His palms were rough, and my nipples went hard against them.

He rolled them between his fingers until I arched back against his chest.

I could feel him through his pants, hard against the small of my back.

"You feel that?" he said into my ear.

"Yes."

"That's been your fault since the supper."

I turned around in his arms and pushed his shirt off his shoulders.

He was broad and solid, thick through the chest, with silver hair across it.

He was forty-seven, and he had a body that had lifted hay bales and barrels his whole life.

I put my mouth on his chest, over his heart, and felt it slam against my lips.

He made a rough sound and walked me back until my legs hit the bed.

I sat down on the edge of it.

He knelt in front of me and pulled my boots off one at a time, then my socks.

He kissed the inside of my ankle.

Then he looked up at me from the floor, and his eyes were dark.

"Lie back," he said.

I lay back across his bed.

He hooked his fingers in my underwear and drew it down my legs and tossed it somewhere behind him.

Then he spread my knees with his hands and just looked at me.

My face burned.

I started to close my legs, and he held them open.

"Don't," he said. "Let me look at you."

"Hayes."

"You're so pretty, darlin'," he said. "You're pink and wet, and I haven't even touched you yet."

He kissed the inside of my knee.

Then the inside of my thigh, higher.

Then he put his mouth on my pussy, and I forgot every word I knew.

He licked me in one long, slow stroke from bottom to top.

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