“Turn around,” he said gruffly, gripping her hips without waiting for her response.
Jane gasped as he used his feet to slide her legs wider apart and then bent her forward and thrust into her.
She gasped and then pushed back, meeting his thrusts. “Yes!” Her wet hair slapped against her back. The view from his angle was enough to make any man black out from ecstasy.
“I’m going to—”
“Jane.” He clenched his teeth. “Come on, baby.”
She cried out, slamming her hands against the glass wall.
And he realized—he couldn’t spend a day, a week, a year without this woman falling apart in his arms.
*
Later that day they fell into their usual routine: she cleaned around the house and he made sure the cock wasn’t bullying the other animals.
The hens were more than happy.
The cock glared at him but otherwise left him alone.
Buttercup ate her oats and neighed while the ass roamed free—it was impossible to keep the damn thing locked up. One day Brock was going to put a camera out in the barn just to see if the ass really was as smart as he wanted everyone to believe. On more than one occasion he’d found the damn thing standing in the middle of the living room.
With the TV on, no less.
Always The Today Show.
Always.
His days had fallen into a routine, one he liked, one that didn’t include going to his grandfather’s meetings, making sure he shook hands with men he didn’t give two shits about.
Between board meetings, golf, charity dinners—his life had become something he didn’t recognize anymore.
Until now.
That Brock—the one who lived in the city, who was boring, and a complete copy of his grandfather—he didn’t exist out at the ranch. And yet he was terrified that once he returned to the city, he’d lose what he’d found here, what he’d found with Jane.
With a heavy sigh he made his way back into the house to find Jane staring in horror at the TV.
“The guest list is in for the first annual Bachelor Auction.” The newscaster looked like she was going to burst with excitement. “And the names on the list just may surprise you. Here are our picks for the women who will bid the most, though all we can do is speculate. It’s still fun to see who might win out and who gets the charity date, along with a chance to steal Brock Wellington’s heart! Rumors about the bachelor’s disappearance have been rampant and the one that refuses to die is the suggestion that he’s taking time away from the speculation to decide who he’s truly interested in. Is Brock Wellington planning on settling down? And is he using the auction as a way to find someone who matches him in looks, wealth, and power? We agree that these women are sure to make any man wish he was getting auctioned off!”
Brock gulped as the screen flashed pictures of the women.
“Supermodel Tamara Sanderson, actress Julie Zellman, and co-founder of the country’s fastest growing fashion app Di Fashion, to name a few! We want to know, who would you pick? Take the poll and you could win a ticket to the charity ball this Saturday night! Tickets are ten thousand a head; don’t miss this once in a lifetime chance to attend Cinderella’s Ball!”
Brock quickly found the remote and changed the channel, only to discover the story was there as well. Apparently he was breaking news—again.
He hit the power button, and the room fell into an awkward silence.
“Sorry.” He locked eyes on Jane. She was hunched over, chewing her bottom lip, her eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”
“It’s okay,” she croaked.
“Come here.” He held out his hands.
She shook her head and took a step back.
“Jane?”
“I c-can’t.” She crossed her arms. “I um, missed one of the bathrooms upstairs. I should go clean it and—”
“Jane!”
She turned and ran—well, tried to run considering her ankle was still hurt. She’d made it halfway up the stairs before he caught up to her.
“Stop.” He pulled her into his arms. “Just stop.”
“You have to go back.” She stared at his chest.
“Yes.” It killed him to say so. “But you do, too. As much as I want to stay here forever…we have to face our ghosts. Weren’t you the one who said that?”
Jane nodded. “I’m going back to my life, Brock, but…will you be a part of it?”
He closed his eyes and breathed out a curse. “Jane, just give me a few days to talk to my grandfather. It’s been a long time coming, but I can’t just drop this news on him. I mean, think of his heart and—”
“His heart?” Jane repeated loudly. “Has he ever had a weak heart?”
“Well, he may have had an anxiety attack over me not doing the auction, but we thought it was a heart attack at first,” Brock said defensively. “And he’s always talking about his impending death.”
“Brock, are you listening to yourself? Are you seriously going to do whatever he says for the rest of your life just because you’re worried he’s going to die the minute you say no?”