Your Fierce Love (The Bennett Family 7)

“She is. It took about a week for me to stop breaking eggs.”

I grin, trying to imagine Blake, only a few years older than Mia and Elena, wandering around with a huge basket. We spend the next half hour walking around the property, with Blake telling what used to be where, sharing anecdotes. I love that he trusts me enough to be so open with me and share a part of their childhood, of himself.

“This is the oldest tree on the property,” he says about forty minutes later as we come under an enormous oak tree. It truly looks ancient—sturdy and wide. It’s slowly bent forward, enough to let you know it’s seen many storms and windy days. There is a swing hanging from it, and I immediately sit on it, swinging back and forth.

Blake smiles.

“What?” I ask, a little defensive.

“I knew you’d do that.”

“I like swings.” I feel like I’m flying whenever I’m in one. The one he ordered for the balcony arrived last week, and I spend about an hour there every evening.

“The swing has been here for a long time too.” He pauses for a while, leaning against the bark of the tree. “Sebastian sat on it, with Summer in his lap, when he told us Mom and Dad would be selling the ranch.”

“Oh, do tell.”

Blake unhitches himself from the bark, walks over in front of me, and pushes the swing, sending me way farther back. He repeats the motion a few times, pushing harder, faster. I can feel the wind in my hair better this way. Of course, if I slipped from it, I’d faceplant straight on the ground, but I trust Blake wouldn’t let anything happen to me.

“He’d already talked it through with the older gang and our parents. But he took Daniel, me, and Summer out here, explained it thoroughly. Said it’s a risk, but promised to take care of us.” His voice catches. “And he did.”

“What did you say?”

“We were kids, and this was something new. It was exciting for us. And Sebastian is the type of person you just can’t help trusting.”

“So are you,” I find myself saying, just as the swing comes hurtling toward him. He pushes me away again, cocking a brow.

“Which part of me spells trustworthy?”

“The one that offered me a place to stay when I needed one, then set it up just the way I wanted it so I’d feel at home.” I hurtle toward him again, but instead of pushing me back, he grips the wooden board under my ass with one hand. The abrupt halt throws me off balance, and I let out a yelp. I’m going to fall.

Just as the thought takes shape in my mind, Blake whispers, “I’ve got you.”

His arm is around me, firm and reassuring. And then his mouth. This kiss is so different from our first one, gentle and slow, but it has the same effect. It makes me want more. I soak in all of the warmth and steadiness that is being held and kissed by Blake.

He lets out a deep groan. I feel it reverberate through me, and the recognition that I spark that kind of desire in him turns me on. Blake eases me off the swing, still not letting me go.

“Clara?”

“Hmm?”

“Let’s get back to the house.”

“Okay.”

I’m not sure what I’m agreeing to, but my entire body is buzzing with awareness. I like this man, and I can’t fight my attraction to him any longer. The tension is palpable between us as we walk back inside the house. You’d need more than a knife to cut through it—possibly a machete or an axe.

We don’t enter through the living room but through a back door, and we don’t run into anybody. When we come in front of my door, he kisses the back of my hand, which is unexpected.

“I’m going to take a shower,” he says. Also unexpected. I’m not sure exactly what I expected, but it was something more along the lines of “I’m going to back you against this wall and screw you silly” rather than kissing my hand and telling me he’ll shower. “If you want me to come to your room afterward, just unlock the connecting door.”

Ooooh, now I understand the shower part. We’ve been wandering outside in the sweltering heat and we’re both sweaty. He’s being a gentleman.

“It’s my choice?” I ask breathlessly.

“Always your choice, and I’ll respect it.” With a wiggle of his eyebrows, he adds, “But if you choose to lock it, I’ll just have to try harder.”

“You don’t give up, do you?”