Danny reaches down to help me, and somehow I end up pulling him down next to me.

  “Oh no!” I say.

  “It’s all right. I did that on purpose. I didn’t want you to be the only one with mud on their ass.”

  I shake my head. “You’re nuts.”

  He nods. “I am nuts. ’Cause I’ve known you 48 hours, and I’m in love with you, and I don’t care what anybody thinks about that.”

  I smile. “It’s not our business what anybody thinks. And…I don’t know…maybe I love you too.”

  He smiles, undaunted by my hesitancy. “I’ll take your maybe and raise you a marriage proposal.”

  Snorting, I toss a handful of mud at his already-muddied shoulder. “Sure, big guy. I see your proposal and raise you one. Maybe I wanted to have your babies the second I saw you in the diner.”

  He pauses, confusion in his eyes. “The diner…but I thought….”

  Oh, shit. We never talked about that part yet, did we?

  “About that,” I say. “I might have scoped you out before Saturday. My uncle saw you were having town meetings at the diner and sent me to…spy on them?” I wince as I let the truth slip out. Waiting for the backlash.

  But none comes.

  Danny, the keeper of Robert’s Rules of Order, secretary of the town, hot-headed smartass extraordinaire, simply shrugs. “It’s a public meeting, so, well played, I guess.”

  I gape at him. “You’re not mad I kept that from you?”

  “Not really. It’s not like you learned any gossip. If you’d been paying attention to what we were talking about instead of staring at my ass, maybe you would not have been blindsided by our world’s largest ball of yarn.” He lifts one shoulder and delivers these lines with his satisfied grin.

  “Oh my god. Danny Bryce, you’re going to get it.”

  We share a brief moment in which our eyes, our bodies, our souls absorb the energy in the air between us right now. Heat, agitation, longing, and competition. My blood is boiling.

  He leans forward and speaks into my ear so only I can hear it. “And you’re going to give it to me. Bare-ass naked. In my shower. Now.”

  Defiantly, I reply, “Wonder if you even know what to do with a proper bed.”

  Danny’s nostrils flare, his jaw ticks in irritation. “That comes after. Right after.”

  “Point the way, big talker.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Danny

  “But your truck?”

  Izzy seems confused, but she doesn’t know how we roll in Fate. Not a lot of places to be in a hurry, so we can walk.

  Rex, the mechanic, catches my keys that fly at him as we pass him and Juniper on the way to my house.

  “Mind if we use it?” Rex asks, smirking when he sees me nearly dragging Izzy down the street, my arm clamped around her shoulder protectively.

  “For whatever you need,” I growl. Juniper is by his side, and I catch her glancing, wide-eyed, at the two of us. That wide-eyed stare melts into a knowing smile.

  Not that it matters, but at least Rex will have my back if anyone decides to give me shit about my Gold Hill girl. My Pinky. Seems to me anyone having words about it will also have to deal with Ernestine, as it turns out.

  You find out interesting things when you keep your mouth shut and listen. I know that now. So, I keep my big mouth shut, at least until we reach my house, and it’s time to tell my dirty girl — my sneaky, bossy, future wife — precisely what to do.

  “Take off those wet, dirty clothes and drop ’em in the washer, Izzy. Slowly.”

  She looks around, taking in the state of my laundry room at the back of the kitchen. Her muddy boots are outside, and her pink jacket hangs on the peg. The old linoleum needs to go, and there aren’t any curtains on the window. “Nobody’s around. Nobody can see you.” Wide-eyed, Izzy nods and slowly peels off her muddied tee-shirt. She wears a sports bra underneath that zips down the front. I wait until her jeans are kicked aside before I take the first thing I want from her. I grip the plastic zipper and shoot her a questioning look. She wets her lips and nods her consent.

  My girl. She gasps loudly as I capture one taut rosy nipple into my mouth. Suckling the one and teasing the other between my fingers while that hand kneads, strokes, and teases her supple skin, I’m in awe of her softness. The cords of Izzy’s neck stand out, taunting me as she lolls her head back and moans for me.

  My woman. Her moans grow louder as I treat her other breast to the same attentions, suckling, nuzzling, my cock growing harder and harder by the second the longer my hands and mouth memorize her curves.

  I crush her to me and lick those tempting cords along her neck and collarbone, salty from work. Her muscles are tight from doing all the things she didn’t need to do, but because she wanted to help. I fucking love this little spitfire.

  “Turn around.” She obeys and lets me massage those knots in her shoulder, letting out a sigh. From behind, I give her body what it needs. Care and relaxation. She’s already done enough. It’s time for me to take care of her.

  She’s my person. Mine to take care of. Forever.

  As I massage lower, working over her shoulder blades, I talk to her and kiss her across her collarbone. “I know you were joking around before, in the mud. But for the record, I wasn’t joking. I want you, Izzy. I want you all to myself.”

  “Danny, I—”

  I let her talk, but I’m also tugging her cotton undies to the side.

  “Oh!” My Izzy gasps as I slide my greedy fingers into her wet heat.

  Pressing close, I wrap my arm around her waist and cover every inch of her back with my aching, dirty, sweat-soaked body, my throbbing dick no doubt leaving a mark on her hip.

  “What is it, love?”

  Her voice trembles. “I can’t even think straight when you’re touching me like that.”

  “Wet my fingers for me, Pinky.”

  She whines, “You know I’m wet.”

  “Hang on, baby. I’m trying to see something.”

  “Wh-what?”

  Licking up the shell of her ear, I tell her, “I’m trying to see how you really feel about this thing between us. My wife.” I sink one digit into her channel, and she squeaks, pushing back against my dick, dripping her juice.

  “Good girl, Pinky. Now, the other thing I wanted to tell you was you’re going to look so pretty with my baby in your round little belly.”

  To my great satisfaction, she bends her neck back, resting it on my shoulder, releasing a moan while drenching my fingers.

  She laughs wickedly, if breathlessly. “I wasn’t joking before. I’ve been watching you. Wondering how much weight those shoulders could hold while I fuck your face with my pussy.

  “I’ve been trying to catch glimpses of the outline in your jeans for months now. I know you’re a big, frustrated ol’ boy with a great big, angry cock, just waiting to rail somebody raw. So do it.”

  My Pinky. “Marry me.”

  She laughs. “But where will we live?”

  “We’ll build a love shack on an island in the middle of the river.”

  “So no one can hear us argue.”

  With a growl, I shuck my jeans and kick off my boxer briefs, pressing my dick in the valley between the soft curves of her cheeks. “Correction. So no one can hear my wife come.”

  “Confident, are we?”

  Annoyed, agitated, and so damn hard, I toss what remains of our clothes into the washer and grit out, “Go get the detergent, start the load. Then grab the washer and bend over.” She proceeds to soldier through, her hands trembling. I give my cock a once-over, tugging it in hopes to feel some relief but only building the fire inside.

  When she finishes the job I’ve given her, I tug off her underwear all the way down and help her step out of them, then toss them into the wash.

  “Spread for me.”

  “You do it,” she echoes from the night before, dropping the washer lid down.

  With a curse, I shove my thigh between her legs and knock her legs open, revealing a devastating view of her sweet heat from behind. I can’t get enough of her supple cheeks, the way they ripple when I gently slap them, the way she yields when I rub my cock up and down her curves.

  Kissing off the salty sweat from her back, I slide the tip into her pussy, guiding it to her entrance. She pushes back, ready for me. Dripping for me.

  She looks back, her damp hair matted against her smudged cheeks. Dipping in deeper, slowly, she urges me onward, pushing back and back and back until I’m all the way in, all the way to the hilt. “Better let go of that bottom lip, baby girl, unless you wanna bruise yourself.”

  Izzy squints at me the way she does when she’s issuing a challenge. This is the kind of challenge I’m always up for.

  Slapping her gorgeous left cheek, I take a second to admire the way it jiggles softly. I love all of Izzy’s jiggly bits, her hard bits, her fiery outside, and her soft, sweet center.

  I lose myself in her tightness as I slowly back out, then ease back in, gauging her moans and soft cries. Her core clenches tight around me, fitting to me, molding to me. I pull out again and come back harder this time, and I notice her moan grow louder, her pussy wetter.

  “More,” she rasps.

  I snake my hand up her back and fist my hand in her hair, and ramp up, faster and harder until she gives me a “Yes! Yes, Danny.” She’s so fucking naughty, I think my cock grows a whole inch or more inside her.

  That’s when the washer begins the agitation cycle, and I thrust so hard she’s soon crawling up over the top, holding on to the sides. Her feet are off the floor now, and I cover her with all of me, reaching around to stroke her clit, kiss her, pull her hair. My baby likes it dirty and sweet. We’re going to have so much fun.

  “One last chance before I come. Pull out or let it rip?”

  She shouts in her breathless state, “Don’t…you dare… pull out. Don’t ever….” My Izzy punctuates that sentence with a cry in her release. At the same time, I feel my soul leave my body as she pulses around me. I come with a roar, filling her with stream after stream of my sticky essence. I keep at it until I’m sure she’s satisfied, wringing out everything her body can give me, with as much attention as her body can handle. I’m nothing if not a hard worker.

  And I intend to work for this, for her, for my Izzy, for the rest of my life.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Izzy

  At some point, we made it to the bedroom.

  In my weakened state after our laundry room encounter, Danny carried me to the shower. He washed me as sweetly and gently as if I were a baby. He called me that, over and over, in fact, as he sponged off all the dirt, sweat, mud, and grime. Off of me first and then himself. “You’re such a good girl, baby. I love you so much, baby.”

  The “L” word is so new to me, but I can tell he means it. For all his witty remarks, Danny is a serious man. So serious that I was able to feel comfortable enough to be completely naked. And not just for the fucking. Showering somehow feels much more intimate. I leaned into him, letting his sturdy body prop me up as he ministered to every single inch. No part of me was left untouched, no tight muscle neglected. I should have been touched out, but I found myself feeling quite the opposite. Once I surrendered, I understood.

  Somehow, the man got hard again as I cradled his cock in my hands, examining it under the falling water. Thick and heavy, fitting nicely in my two hands, responding with a twitch as I stroked, pulled, and bent down to take it in my mouth.

  Before I could, I felt Danny’s hand on my neck, bringing me back up to standing. And then he kissed me. My lips, already swollen from so much kissing, still craved more and my body fell in line. And then we did it all over again. Face to face this time, up against the wall of the shower. Thank god for safety bars.

  Because I couldn’t feel my legs after that, he carried me to the bed.

  And that’s where we are now. Naked in his bed, still slightly damp from the steamy shower.

  And somehow, he’s ready to go again. Unbelievably, so am I.

  “I’m not up for any more acrobatics, Danny. But do what you will. I won’t argue.”

  He chuckles. “You won’t argue? Alert the media.”

  “Asshole,” I say with a smirk.

  “I’m your asshole,” he says, rubbing his rough hand between my thighs, nudging his leg between them.

  “That’s right. I have that asshole trademarked and copyrighted. It’s mine,” I say sleepily.

  With the least amount of effort, it seems, Danny wedges himself between my legs, letting me remain on my side. I don’t know how he does it, but he gets it in, spiking my arousal once again, though I’d thought he’d drained me several times over. With my top leg around his middle, he goes to work once more. This time, kissing me so tenderly, I think I might cry.

  “If you’re too sore, I’ll stop.”

  But I don’t want him to stop. I want him to wring all the fire out of me and let me blackout from exhaustion, and then I want him to wake me with his mouth an hour later and start all over again. I tell him to keep at it. Do what he wants.

  “That’s what I like to hear,” he rumbles, his face angling down to nuzzle my breasts.

  “It’s almost like you’re trying to get me pregnant today.”

  “See if I don’t,” he says, grabbing a handful of my rump and squeezing.

  The way he manhandles me is something else. He seems content to simply sheathe his cock inside my greedy pussy and stay nested there. At the same time, he squeezes, massages, plays, kisses. If I thought I’d fall asleep, I was wrong because my Danny has me turned up to eleven. There’s almost nothing left of me by the time he spurts into me for the third time today. Determined, always so determined, to take care of me, he stays right where he is, never pulling away, and thumbing my clit until I shatter. Trembling, my orgasm rolls over me and through me, a keening cry rips from my throat, a sound I don’t even recognize as coming from me.

  Tears spill onto the sheets.

  “Sweetness. Pinky,” he whispers, kissing away my tears. “Did I hurt you?”

  I shake my head, not understanding what’s happening. I’ve never cried after an orgasm before. But then, I’ve never experienced three—four? Five?—in such quick succession.

  He kisses me again and again until the tears stop flowing, and then brings me water.

  I know why I’m crying. I’m crying because this is how it should be.

  This is the way it should have always been, and now I know what I want.

  I want to be respected and equally matched, word for word.

  And nobody respects me quite like my equal. My rival and my equal.

  My smart-ass, hard-working, bossy, infuriating tree of a man.

  I don’t know at what point I fall asleep. All I know is I wake what feels like hours later, to the sensation of someone petting and softly playing with my breasts, and to the sound of a knock on the door and a man’s muffled voice calling out, “Danny, you home?”

  I gasp and grasp at the sheet to cover myself, but there’s no use. The sheet is bunched down at the foot of the bed, and Danny’s legs are tangled with mine.

  An average man of normal stamina would be startled from sleep, probably drooling on me or on the pillow. Danny, however, is already awake, or maybe he never went to sleep.

  “Having fun?”

  “Yes,” he says, flashing me a little boy grin. “They’re so cute when they bounce back.”

  I sigh. “Give it time. A couple of babies and ten more years, they won’t behave like that, sorry to say.”

  “You’re right. They’ll be even better.”

  “Such a suck-up.”

  “It’s my job.”

  I roll my eyes, but inside I have butterflies. All the butterflies.

  The knock on the door repeats.

  I look from the hallway, toward the door, and back at Danny. “Hadn’t you better see what they want?”

  Danny instead cuddles closer, resting his head on my tits, and sighs. “That’s just Rex. He’ll leave the key in the mailbox.”

  Seconds later, sure enough, Rex concludes his visit. “All right, brother, I’m just gonna leave the key. Thanks for letting us use it, and thanks to your lady friend, I think we’ve got everything under control. So tell her thanks from all of us. Anyway, I’ll leave you to it then.”

  Danny sighs. “People here don’t know how to say goodbye.”

  I nudge his foot with mine. “People know I’m in here; they saw me leave with you. My car is parked on the square where I left it. They know exactly what we’re doing in here. God, they’re all going to see me do the walk of shame back to my car.”

  “Least they didn’t show up with pitchforks.”

  “Seriously?”

  “But if you want my ballcap and trench coat, I’ll let you wear it home, so no one notices you.”

  I grumble, “That’s enough.”

  “Hey,” he teases. “Maybe you could slip out in the dark of night with my trench coat, ballcap, sunglasses, and a clown mask. No one will suspect a thing.”

  “Par for the course in Fate; nobody will bat a single eye at some freak in a clown mask.”

  “Hey now,” he replies, playfully slapping my bottom. “Those are my freaks you’re mocking. Anyway, you’re stuck here. You can leave your car on the square because you’re not leaving.”

  “I do have to go to work tomorrow.”

  “Nope. You’re not leaving. I forbid it.”

  “Danny.”

  “You’re one of us now. Your membership card is already on the way.”

  “Towns don’t have membership cards.”

  “They do when they decide to form a club and hand out membership cards.”

  “You’re speaking gibberish,” I laugh.

  Danny grunts and rolls off me, shuffles around his room, then opens his wallet, pulling out a laminated card.

  I look at it when he hands it to me. “You weren’t kidding,” I mumble. The card contains some personal information about Danny, along with the words, “Official lifelong member of Fate.”