Through the Dust (Black Springs Ranch, #2)

by Amber Palmer

To everyone who’s ever been told they were too much - They were wrong. Be loud. Be radiant. Be unapologetically ambitious. Be yourself.

“Fuck the leather, fuck the lace. Cheers to the ones who sit on our face!”

“You know, if you really want to keep me quiet, you could give me something to fill my mouth with and shut me up. It’s worked for others in the past.”

His attention was hard to get, but even harder to ignore.

I wanted to be seen and treated as an equal, sharing the load of life’s hardships instead of becoming an accessory on their arm.

I was clearly not in my right mind, because there was no way I was letting myself daydream about Bishop Bryant.

The scent of sage and honey and very bad decisions filled my senses as I was pulled tightly against a warm, broad chest.

Lennox Hayes and I were like fire and ice. She burned hotter than a thousand fucking suns and had the temper to boot. I was the dick who acted unaffected but was anything but. That woman had a way of getting under my skin like no one else had. She drove me crazy, slipping further into madness with each moment we spent together—which was way more than I liked.

No matter how hard I tried to escape a particular blonde pain in my ass, I couldn’t. She was there wherever I went, pestering the fuck out of me. If she could make it a career, she’d be a millionaire.

Christ Almighty. Getting drunk should never look that fucking sinful, and I suddenly found myself wondering if I needed to go to church.

I barely heard the grumble of disappointed men behind me, too aware that Lennox Hayes was wearing my hat. My. Fucking. Hat.

She was sorely mistaken if she thought her bratty attitude would keep me from going toe-to-toe with her. If anything, the way she acted only made me want to pursue that more—to punish her for the way she was acting and openly defying me.

“The things I wanna do can’t be done in public, killer.”

There was no future in which Lennox Hayes and I would ever be more than one night. But maybe one night was all we needed.

Even I couldn’t deny that fighting with her got my dick hard. Her snarky comments and devil-may-care attitude were unlike any other woman I’d ever met.

Lennox deserved to run as free as the Musta...

“Yeah, you’d thank me for filling you up, killer. It’d turn you on to know I’m leaking out of you whenever some other mother fucker tried talking to you.”

Now, all I could feel was the phantom beat of Lennox’s racing heart as I held her like I owned her. I hated how much I wanted to feel it again.

I wanted to be wrecked so thoroughly that I didn’t know my name when he was done.

I couldn’t focus on anything but the way Bishop touched me. Every inch of my body burned, needy and desperate.

I knew he would be the best sex of my life, which meant it was ridiculously unfair that he was who he was.

“It’s nice to see this mouth can do more than talk shit,” I said, picking up a slow, steady pace.

I’d told her I wanted to watch her makeup run down her face, and I was determined to deliver.

His weathered tan chaps framed his ass perfectly, drawing me in. I was no better than a man, gawking at something that was never mine to have.

She used her loud as fuck nature to divert the attention of others her way when things got heavy.

Her blue eyes raked down my body, stopping on the buckle at the top of my jeans. The same buckle I’d worn four months ago, the one she’d fought desperately to get off on.

She needed a man, not a boy. One who could put up with her shit and give it right back. Who was older and had experience and⁠—

I wanted to bend her over the nearest surface, to feel her body shudder under my touch as I brought my palm down on her ass.

“What would you know about my type?” “I know enough,” I said, stepping forward. Her sweet, honeyed scent filled the space between us. “And we both know a kid like that wouldn’t be able to keep up with a hellion like you.”

And then she walked away, leaving me standing in a crowd, not knowing whether I wanted to fuck her or fight her.

Damn, I’d love to run my tongue along the lines of his tattoo peeking out beneath the fabric. And then there was that slutty fucking gold chain around his neck. Who knew it would be so hot?

“Boys, if I could give you one piece of life advice, it’d be this… Never try to win an argument with your wife. It doesn’t matter how small it may seem. Just let it go. It ain’t worth it.”

I’d learned early on that blood didn’t define family. It was determined by who showed up for you day in and out when shit got tough, the ones who rallied behind you and lifted you up until you could stand on your own two feet.

I could literally throw a stone in any direction and hit a good-looking man in tight jeans and a pair of boots. But therein lay my problem. I didn’t want just any cowboy. I wanted one specific pair of boots kicked off by the foot of my bed. I wanted the one next to me, as stupid as it might be.

It felt forbidden, and I wanted him even more because of it.

My whole body tingled when I remembered what it felt like to have his calloused fingers dig into my skin, or the way he’d slapped my ass. He always exuded such control. Seeing him try to force me into submission got me all sorts of hot and bothered.

“Don’t you wanna know what I taste like?” I whispered. Bishop’s eyes flared,

“You think I’m not in control?” he asked, smirking when I nodded. “That’s cute. Killer, I could have you bent over this table, begging to be fucked if I wanted to. And before you try to tell me no, tell me this instead… If I reached between those sweet thighs, would I find your panties soaked? Your cunt aching to be touched? Would you give me those desperate little whimpers you gave me the first time I touched you?”

The soft scent of honey and vanilla filled the air, invading my senses. I’d recognize it anywhere. It was fucking imprinted in my memory. Sometimes, I swore I could still smell it on my pillow at night, like it was haunting me. Today, though, I savored it.

We were like one of those indoor rollercoasters you rode in the pitch dark. Was there a huge climb coming up? A sharp turn or a drastic drop? No one knew.

It’d become obvious after our first kiss that she would turn my world upside down.

It’d killed me to ignore her, but she deserved more than an emotionally stunted forty-year-old man who’d never been in a relationship.

“Fingers crossed you don’t choke on a carrot. That’d be such a shame. I don’t know the Heimlich, so you’d be shit out of luck.”

I wanted to throw our dinner on the floor, grab her waist, and drown in the taste of her.

Is this what it felt like to go insane? Hell, maybe I was already there—so far gone I didn’t know which way was up. Maybe Lennox Hayes had well and truly fucking destroyed me.

His hot and cold nature was driving me crazy. I couldn’t tell whether his restraint should be celebrated or ridiculed.

“We’re all scared, bug, but just because we’re scared doesn’t mean we should stop living. We shouldn’t let that fear consume us. Shouldn’t stop laughing over stupid shit, or going after what you want, or dancing in the kitchen at”—he looked toward the clock—“5:57 in the morning with your dear old dad.”

“Eyes on the prize, old man,” she said, nodding toward the idiot in the ring. “They’re already there,” I muttered, letting my gaze linger far longer than necessary.

Seeing her so happy, I realized, made me happy.

He could obliterate me and walk away unscathed while I lay with the scattered pieces of a broken heart.