Fake Marriage (Contemporary Romance Box Set) Page 2

  “No.” I shimmied out of my panties and unclasped my bra. “I want this. I want you.”

  He rolled us again, so he was over me. “Be sure, Sinclair. This is one bell that can’t be unrung.”

  “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

  He stared into my eyes, and I hoped he saw what he needed to see there. Finally, he said, “Just relax. Let me take care of you.”

  He kissed me as his hands kneaded my breasts. His fingertips drew down over my belly, his mouth left my lips and instead sucked on my breasts. I gasped as a flood of pressure filled my core.

  “That feels so good.” I held his head to my breasts and widened my legs as his fingers stroked through my folds.

  “Good.” He rubbed me there until I was writhing and I felt like I was on the verge of coming undone. He then put one of his long fingers inside me.

  My pussy clasped around it. “Yes.”

  He groaned too. “You’re so tight and wet.”

  “Please, Wyatt.” I wasn’t sure what I was begging for; I only knew I needed him to take care of me.

  He moved his hips over mine, his tip nestling against my entrance. He looked down on me. “We can stop, baby.”

  “No. Don’t stop.” Was he kidding? I was about to combust. I gripped his hips and pulled him to me.

  “Let me do it,” he said on another groan. “This might hurt.”

  It couldn’t be worse than the ache I had there now. “I don’t care.”

  I looked up into his face, filled with torment. He looked like he was in pain too, as he bit his lip, his expression strained as he pushed the head of his dick inside me.

  A wave of emotion flowed through me. This was finally happening. But need pushed away the emotion, as my hips gyrated, seeking more from him.

  “Ah, fuck…” He groaned. He pushed some more and then withdrew.

  I gripped him close, not wanting him to move away. But then he pressed in again, slid back, and again, each time sliding inside a little bit deeper.

  “You ready?” I barely recognized his voice, there was so much tension in it.

  “Yes, Wyatt. I love you.”

  He withdrew and the next thrust was hard and deep. The feeling of him filling me was beyond what I could have imagined. I felt full, but no pain.

  “You okay?”

  “Yes. Yes, perfect.” I rocked my hips, still seeking more of him.

  “Jesus…Sinclair…” He levered up on his hands and looked down on me, his bangs falling into his face. “I’m not sure I’ll hold out.”

  I reached and pushed his hair back, wanting to see his green eyes. “I don’t care. I want to feel you.”

  He gave me a quick hard kiss, and then his body moved. In and out. My hips followed his rhythm in perfect synchronization. It was proof that we were meant to be. Each time he slid in, I felt his thickness sizzling along my sensitive walls. It was delicious and frustrating all at the same time. I felt like my insides were coiling tighter and tighter and any minute now I was going to explode.

  “Fuck, I’m gonna come,” he gasped. He reached down, pulling my thigh up and opening me to him more. Then he plunged in, and holy moly, my entire world imploded and then blasted into the million stars that were lighting the sky above us.

  “Yes, baby…yes… Fuck, you feel so good.” His hips bucked and warmth spread through me, until he collapsed.

  I held him to me, trying not to cry. I wasn’t in pain. I didn’t feel regret. My tears were an overwhelming abundance of love for Wyatt. He was everything to me. And now, I was sure we’d be together forever.

  1

  Wyatt – Ten Years Later

  Coming home was like walking back in time. Driving back into Salvation, Nebraska after ten years serving in the military, I saw all the same corn and soybean fields. All the same cattle ranches. The town itself had hardly changed at all. Perhaps a little more scarred and tired, but so was I.

  Of course, there was one glaring difference; my father was gone. Good riddance. The bastard overstayed his welcome as far as I was concerned. One thing I learned in the military was that my fuck-up of a father wasn’t so unusual. Many of my brothers came from abusive homes run by drunken fathers and mothers who enabled them.

  My father had always been selfish. He’d always fucked as many women as would open their legs for him. But until a few months ago, he’d always stuck around. Like a bad penny. Apparently, a barfly at the local bar was appealing enough that he’d run off with her. To my mind, this was good news. Neither my mother nor I needed that asshole around.

  But leaving my mother to manage a cattle ranch, that was fucked up. Farming in general wasn’t a great vocation anymore. Cattle farming was doing okay, but it had dropped the last few years. Having been away, I didn’t know why. Was it because there was more emphasis on plant-based diets? Or the fact that cows were bad for the environment since they farted methane. Up until I got the call from my mother about my father leaving, I didn’t care to know.

  Nebraska ranked number two behind Texas in the overall cattle industry, but that didn’t mean my parents’ ranch was a cash cow… No pun intended. When my father left, my mother hired more men to help, but the money coming in wasn’t supporting the money spent on hiring help. So, she’d called me home.

  As it turned out, the timing was perfect. The military was good to me. I learned discipline, some amazing skills, got an education and was paid for it all. But there came a time when being in special forces required you to become an unfeeling machine to survive. I was on the cusp of having to make that decision when my mother called. I decided I wanted to retain my humanity. Life could be a bitch, but I’d rather hurt than be numb.

  The screen door squealed open, adding one more thing to the to-do list to get this house and the ranch back on track.

  “I brought you some cold tea.” My mother handed me a glass of the sun-made brew and stood with me on the front porch as I took in the vastness of Nebraska.

  “Thank you.”

  “Are you settling in? I imagine it’s strange to be home after all your travels and adventures.”

  War wasn’t an adventure, but I decided not to correct her. “It’s nice to be around calm.”

  “I’m so happy to have you home safe and sound.” She sniffed. I turned to see her wipe a tear. “I always worried about you, but I know you had to go.”

  I was safe. The sound part was questionable. “What’s that?” I asked, nodding toward an envelope she held in her hand.

  “I don’t want to start your time home with trouble, but we got this in the mail today. It’s not the first one. I thought you should see it.”

  I opened the envelope and pulled out a letter on fancy paper with “Stark Associates” emblazoned in gold on the letterhead.

  “It’s an offer to buy the ranch,” she said.

  “That can’t possibly be a fair price,” I said after scanning the letter.

  “No, but if you read further, it seems to say that if we don’t sell at this price, the private prison they’re building will devalue the land and we’ll end up with less.”

  I looked at her, wondering why she brought me home if she was considering this. “You could take the money to start a new life.”

  She sighed as she looked out over the land and then looked down, and I got the feeling I wasn’t going to like what she was going to say.

  “This is my home, Wyatt. But even if it wasn’t, I can’t sell. It’s your father’s. He will probably want to sell the property, but I don’t want to.”

  “Your name isn’t on the deed?”

  She shook her head. “This land has been in your father’s family for over a century. Passed down generation to generation. If it’s going to be sold, I feel like you’re the one who needs to make that decision.”

  I couldn’t understand what she was saying. “I’m not on the deed.”

  “The terms of land transfer are from son to son, or daughter if there isn’t a son. As long as a Jones lives o
n and works the land, it can’t be sold. By your being here, it can’t be sold unless you agree to it. It was set up by your six-time great grandfather when he got this land. Back then, land and ranching were considered a job that would never end. That would always be lucrative.”

  I’d come home because I needed to be here. It pissed me off that some big-city asshole would be trying to intimidate my mother. She was right in that my father would likely want to sell, which I supposed was why it was important for her that I come home. Not just to help work the ranch, but to prevent my father from selling the place that she loved.

  It was strange how a home that held so many hurtful moments could be considered home for her or me. But standing on the porch, I did feel peace. I did feel like I was home. And now this Stark Company threatened that.

  “I’ll take care of this.” I patted her shoulder to assure her. “I’m going to go for a ride.”

  She smiled. “Can you still ride?”

  I laughed. “Oh, I can ride, but I don’t doubt my ass will hurt tomorrow.” I shoved the letter in my pocket with a plan to shove it up Simon Stark’s ass when I went to visit him. I headed to the barn, saddled up a quarter-horse, and headed out into the fields.

  I took in the fresh air, tilting my head up to feel the sun on my face. I’d thought coming home would be easier. Not perfect. But I saw it as a chance to fix old wrongs. To finally find the happiness I thought I was on the path to having.

  Sinclair.

  Good Christ how I loved her. I remembered talking about Sinclair with one of my superiors who had taken me under his wing when I first joined the Army. I’d started missing her before I left. I felt like shit for how I left. He’d told me that I was young. He acknowledged that while my feelings were real and strong, that over time, they’d wane. That lasting love would come later.

  He was a great friend and mentor, but he was wrong about that. While my heart didn’t feel like there was a knife protruding from it anymore, it didn’t feel whole. Not like it had that summer when I’d given in to my feelings for her.

  We’d started planning a future that summer. A part of me knew it wouldn’t come to pass. She was going to college. Chances were she’d meet smarter, more sophisticated men and forget about me. But for that summer, because I loved her, and I loved the idea of a life with her, I went along with it.

  But I’d been right that it was a fantasy. That reality hit me square in the face the night my father hit my mother in front of me, and I stepped in to push back. My father was always a tank of a man. At eighteen, I wasn’t quite what I would be, but I was big enough to take him. It helped that I was sober, while he was sauced up pretty good.

  When I had him pinned to the ground, his lip bleeding and his eye already showing signs of a shiner, he told me he was going to call the cops. One thing about my dad, he was the world’s biggest hypocrite considering the number of shiners my mother bore through the years. He was also a man of his word. I had no doubt he’d press charges.

  Deciding I wasn’t going to go to jail, and that I’d had enough, I packed a bag and headed to Sinclair’s. She’d said she loved me. She wanted a life with me. She gave me her innocence. Armed with that, I climbed up an old tree outside her bedroom and softly rapped on the window.

  Her smile was as bright as the sun when she saw me. “Wyatt. What are you doing?”

  “I’m leaving. You can pack your things and we can run off together.”

  “Where to?” She stared at me like she thought I’d been drinking. But I was stone-cold sober.

  “Anywhere you want, baby. We can live that life we planned, but we have to do it somewhere else. I can’t stay in Salvation one minute more.”

  Her soft hands cradled my face. “It sounds so romantic, but I can’t run away.”

  I knew then, all was lost. I should have just clambered down the tree and made my escape. But like the fucking dummy I was, I pressed on.

  “I thought you loved me. You said you wanted to be together.”

  “I do, but I’m going to college in a couple of weeks-”

  “You can do that anywhere.”

  “Wyatt, I can’t.”

  Even now, ten years later, the heartache of that moment lived in my chest. Hurt, pissed, and dejected, I left. Without a last word, I got into my car and drove out of Salvation… What a fucked up name that was… And to the nearest Army recruiting office.

  I nudged my horse, moving from a walk to a gallop. I closed my eyes just for a moment to feel the freedom and power that riding brought. I’d missed this too.

  Not as much as I missed Sinclair. I was dying to see her and at the same time, nervous about it too. I’d cut all ties… Her, Ryder, my mother…when I left. My mother understood and forgave me. Would Ryder and Sinclair do the same? Would I have a chance to rebuild on what we’d had?

  As I turned toward the barn, my life was about as fucked up as it had been then. But my mentor was right. With age comes wisdom. I had skills to fight physically but also mentally, which meant I’d take on Simon Stark. Emotional strength? I guessed that would be tested when I saw Sinclair again.

  2

  Sinclair

  I groaned in frustration as I read yet another letter from Simon Stark in his attempt to buy up property around Salvation. He’d been sending letters to farm owners on the south east side of the town for months now. His goal was to buy up the land for less than it was worth and build a private prison. Farming communities were on the threat of extinction and as deputy mayor, I didn’t want to see Salvation a part of that.

  I stood from my desk and walked out into the main office area, where Trina, the mayor’s assistant and my friend, looked up at me and frowned.

  “Problem?” she asked.

  I held up the letter. “Are you keeping the file on the letters from Stark Associates?”

  “Another one?” she asked. “How many is that so far?”

  “Half a dozen that we know about. Chances are there are more. At this rate, this prison is going to be larger than the town itself.”

  Trina shook her head. “How did this happen?”

  “I’m sure Stark and the governor are friends. He probably donated buckets of money to his re-election campaign.”

  “What about the board of supervisors? Do you think they’ll pass it?”

  “We’re a dying community that needs tax revenue and jobs.” I looked up to Mayor Valentine entering the office. He gestured to the stack of letters. “More Stark letters?”

  I nodded.

  “What happens if people don’t sell?” Trina asked. “Governor support or not, they can’t build on what they don’t own.”

  “Some people are selling. Family farming is dying. They see this as an opportunity for a new start,” Mayor Valentine said. “Once some sell, the others might follow suit because having a prison nearby will devalue their property.”

  “As this letter not so kindly states,” I said with a feeling of disgust. “Some of these families have been here for centuries. They built this state. Their farms are their lives. We can’t just sit back and let some city slicker and the governor take away our way of life.”

  “Ways of life change, Sinclair,” the mayor said with sympathy in his eyes. Overall, I liked Maurice Valentine. He was young, under forty, so he had progressive ideas. But he was conservative and what my mama would say was practical. He also didn’t seem bothered by my goal of someday running for his position.

  “People still have to eat!” I exclaimed.

  “Maybe if we convince people not to sell, we can make Stark look elsewhere,” Trina suggested.

  “We’d need to make sure the board of supervisors knew that the community supported its farmers over a prison,” I said.

  “Many people don’t want a prison, but they want the jobs that it will bring. It could be a tough sell,” the Mayor pointed out.

  “Whose side are you on?” I asked him.

  “I’m on the side that is best for Salvation. Right now, this prison
is going to bring in jobs for our people. Not everyone is a farmer in Salvation. Not only will it bring jobs and tax revenue, but it’ll also bring in more income from families visiting inmates, eating at our restaurants and staying in our hotels.”

  I didn’t care about that. “I’m going to form a coalition to oppose-”

  “You’re a county employee, Sinclair. You need to be careful about-”

  “A committee then. I want to study the impact this prison will have on landowners and the town. Trina, can you call down to the permit office to get a copy of plans and any environmental studies already done?”

  “Sure thing.”

  “I also want to see a list of all property Stark is targeting and if possible what he’s bought or is in the process of buying already.”

  The mayor put his arm on my shoulder. “It’s good to be passionate about your community, Sinclair. Just remember that not everyone agrees with you on what’s best for it. When you run for mayor, it’s not just about you.”

  “I know. But Salvation is a farming community. It’s a part of our heritage. That has to mean something even to the non-farming families.” I turned to Trina. “Let me know when you have the information. I’m going to get started on these families we already know about.”

  “Will do,” Trina said with a salute.

  I headed to my office, aware that Mayor Valentine was following me, no doubt to impart more wisdom. I appreciated his mentorship, even if I had the distinct feeling that his interest in me was more than platonic. Not that he was inappropriate with me. He just had a way of looking at me that suggested interest. Fortunately, he understood that we couldn’t be together because he was my boss. I liked him well enough, but not as a potential love interest. I didn’t like anyone well enough for that. I had too much else going on in my life to be involved with a man.

  Funny how life could change. There was a time that I thought I had everything all planned out. I’d get my degree and spend my life in Salvation with Wyatt. I supposed two out of three wasn’t bad. I had my degree and I was in Salvation. I’d even secured a great job, one that was the stepping stone I needed to someday fulfill my dream of becoming mayor. Lucky for me, Mayor Valentine, didn’t feel threatened by me, which was strange because he was young. It wasn’t like he was an old man ready to retire. Perhaps his interest in me was what kept him from seeing me as a threat.