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The heater in the heavy-duty Ford truck was blasting, fighting a losing war against the Montana winter pressing against the glass.
June shifted in the passenger seat, trying to find a comfortable position. It was impossible. At seven months pregnant, “comfortable” was a distant memory. The seatbelt dug into the underside of her swollen belly, and her lower back throbbed in time with the bass of the country song playing low on the radio.
But the physical discomfort was nothing compared to the tension radiating from the driver’s seat.
Silas hadn’t spoken a word in forty minutes.
He drove with one hand on the wheel, his knuckles white, his jaw locked so tight a muscle feathered beneath his beard. He was staring straight ahead at the white blur of the highway, his eyes dark, turbulent, and terrifyingly focused.
He looked like he wanted to murder someone. Or devour someone. The line between the two was often thin with Silas.
“You’re going to snap the steering wheel,” June murmured, breaking the heavy silence.
Silas didn’t look at her. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. You’ve been growling since we left the OBGYN’s office in Missoula.” June reached out, resting her hand on his tense forearm. His muscles were rock hard beneath the flannel. “Is it the storm? The roads aren’t that bad, Silas.”
“It’s not the damn roads,” he snapped.
He finally glanced at her. The look in his eyes made June’s breath hitch. It wasn’t anger. It was a raw, starving hunger so potent she could almost taste it.
“It was that doctor,” he growled. “And the valet. And the guy at the gas station.”
June blinked. “What?”
“They were looking at you.” Silas turned his eyes back to the road, accelerating slightly. “Every man in that city was staring at you.”
“Silas, I’m the size of a house. I’m waddling. Nobody was checking me out.”
“You have no idea,” he rasped, his voice dropping an octave. “You have no idea what you look like right now. You’re ripe. You’re glowing. You walk into a room, and every man with a pulse knows you’re taken, but they look anyway. They look at what I put inside you.”
June felt a flush heat her cheeks, traveling straight down to her core. The jealousy. The possessiveness. It shouldn’t have been hot—it was irrational and caveman-like—but God, it worked on her.
“Let them look,” she whispered, shifting her legs, the friction of her thighs creating a spark of heat. “They can’t touch.”
“Damn right they can’t.”
Silas saw the sign for a fire access road. He didn’t signal. He just cranked the wheel.
The truck lurched off the highway, tires crunching over the berm of snow, bouncing onto the unplowed logging trail.
“Silas?” June grabbed the dashboard handle. “What are you doing? We’re twenty minutes from the ranch.”
“I’m not waiting twenty minutes.”
He drove the truck about a hundred yards into the trees, where the pines were thick enough to block the view from the highway. The world turned into a tunnel of white and gray.
He slammed the truck into park. He killed the headlights, but left the engine running.
Darkness flooded the cab, illuminated only by the soft green glow of the dashboard instrument panel.
Silas unbuckled his seatbelt. The metal click was loud in the sudden silence.
He turned to her.
“Come here.”
“Silas, there’s a console in the way,” June laughed nervously, though her heart was hammering. “And I have a giant belly.”
“I don’t care.”
He reached across the console. He didn’t grab her roughly—he knew better than that now. He slid his hands under her arms and lifted her. June scrambled to help, hiking her maternity dress up as he pulled her over the center console.
He settled her onto his lap.
It was a tight fit. Her back was pressed against the steering wheel. Her legs were straddling his hips, spread wide. Her belly pressed firmly against his chest, a solid, warm barrier between them.
Silas groaned as her weight settled on him. He buried his face instantly in the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply, like a man surfacing for air.
“You smell so good,” he muttered against her skin, his beard scratching her sensitive pulse point. “Milk and vanilla and me.”
“We’re going to get arrested,” June whispered, her hands tangling in his hair.
“We’re on my land,” he corrected, biting gently on her earlobe. “I own this road. I own these trees.”
His hands moved down her back, cupping her ass through the thin fabric of her maternity leggings. He squeezed, pulling her harder against his erection.
Even through his jeans, he was massive. A steel bar pressing into her wetness.
“And I own you,” he growled.
He pulled back to look at her. His pupils were blown so wide his eyes looked black. He reached for the front of her dress.
“I need to see you.”
He undid the buttons with shaking hands. He pushed the fabric down her shoulders, then reached inside to free her breasts from her bra.
They spilled out, heavy, pale, and swollen. Her nipples were dark and hard, sensitive to the cool air of the cab.
Silas looked at them with something bordering on religious reverence.
“Beautiful,” he breathed.
He leaned down and took one nipple into his mouth.
June cried out, her head falling back against the steering wheel. The sensation was intense—sharp and electric. He sucked strongly, his tongue swirling over the nub, his hand kneading the other breast.
“Silas,” she gasped. “It’s sensitive.”
“I know,” he hummed against her skin. “I know you’re sensitive everywhere right now.”
He moved his hand down, sliding it between their bodies. He found the waistband of her leggings.
“Lift up,” he ordered.
June braced her feet on the dashboard and lifted her hips. Silas yanked the leggings and her panties down in one motion, leaving them tangled around one ankle.
The cold air hit her sex, followed instantly by the searing heat of his hand.
He didn’t finger her. He just cupped her, his large palm covering her entire mound, his fingers pressing into her slit.
“So wet,” he groaned. “You’re soaking my jeans, June.”
“It’s your fault,” she panted. “Driving like a maniac. Looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you want to eat me.”
“I want to do more than eat you.”
He sat up, pushing her back slightly so she was braced against the door and the wheel. He fumbled with his belt buckle. The sound of the leather clearing the loop and the zipper hissing down was the sexiest sound June had ever heard.
He shoved his jeans and boxer briefs down his thighs.
He sprang free, thick and angry red, twitching in the dim light.
“I want to remind you,” he said, lining himself up with her entrance, “exactly who put that baby in your belly.”
He grabbed her hips.
He didn’t tease. He didn’t ask if she was ready—he knew she was dripping for him.
He thrust upward.
He buried himself to the hilt in one long, devastating stroke.
June screamed, the sound muffled by the falling snow outside. He filled her completely, stretching her, hitting that deep spot that only he could reach.
“God,” Silas roared, his head falling back against the headrest, his teeth bared in a grimace of pleasure. “You are so tight. Even now.”
He held himself there for a moment, letting them both adjust to the invasion. He kept one hand firmly on her hip, anchoring her. The other hand moved to her belly.
He spread his fingers wide over the curve of her bump.
“Hey there,” he whispered to the baby, his voice rough and wrecked. “Daddy’s home.”
The intimacy of it—the dirty, raw sex combined with the tenderness for their child—shattered June.
“Move,” she begged him, gripping his shoulders. “Silas, please move.”
He began to rock his hips.
Because of the angle, he couldn’t thrust fast. He had to grind. He rolled his hips in deep, circular motions, rubbing her clit against his pubic bone while the shaft worked her inside out.
It was slow torture. It was friction and heat and pressure.
“That’s it,” he growled in her ear. “Take it. Take every inch.”
The truck rocked on its suspension, a rhythmic squeak accompanying their heavy breathing. The windows were completely fogged over now, sealing them into a white cocoon.
“You like that?” he demanded, snapping his hips harder. “You like feeling me this deep?”
“Yes,” June sobbed. “Yes, I love it.”
“Tell me whose wife you are.”
“Yours. I’m yours, Silas.”
“Tell me who bred you.”
“You did,” she cried out, her voice pitching up as the tension coiled in her belly. “You did.”
The words snapped his control. The slow grinding vanished, replaced by a feral, piston-like rhythm. He gripped her thigh, bruising the skin, and hammered into her.
“I’m going to do it again,” he promised, his voice guttural. “As soon as this one is out. I’m going to put another one in you. I’m going to keep you pregnant and barefoot on this mountain until I die.”
It was a caveman threat. In the city, it would have been horrifying. Here, in the cab of his truck, with the storm raging outside, it was the ultimate promise of safety.
“Do it,” June dared him. “Fill me up.”
Silas shouted her name.
June’s climax hit her hard, a full-body seizure that started in her toes and exploded in her chest. She clamped down around him, milking him, pulsing against his length.
Feeling her release triggered his own.
Silas groaned, a sound torn from the bottom of his soul. He drove into her one last time, bottoming out, and held her there.
June felt him pulsing. She felt the hot jets of his release coating her insides, adding to the life they had already made.
He shuddered for a long time, his forehead resting on her shoulder, his heavy breathing loud in the small cab.
Slowly, the world came back into focus. The heater was still blasting. The radio was still playing a low ballad.
Silas pulled back, but he didn’t pull out. He looked down at where they were joined, watching the way her body clung to him.
He looked up at her face. His eyes were soft again. The demon was sated.
He reached up and brushed a damp strand of hair off her forehead.
“You okay?” he whispered.
June nodded, too boneless to speak. She rested her forehead against his. “Yeah. I’m okay.”
He kissed her softly—a stark contrast to the violence of a moment ago. Then he reluctantly withdrew, grabbing a rag from the door pocket to clean them both up.
He helped her with her leggings. He buttoned her dress with clumsy, gentle fingers, kissing each patch of skin before he covered it.
He lifted her back over the console, settling her into the passenger seat. He buckled her seatbelt for her, checking to make sure it wasn’t too tight on her belly.
He fixed his own clothes and put the truck back in gear.
He pulled back onto the fire road, backing out onto the highway.
As they picked up speed, heading toward the ranch, Silas reached across the console. He took her hand, interlacing their fingers, and pulled it to his mouth. He kissed her knuckles.
“Let’s get home,” he said. “I need to feed you.”
June squeezed his hand, watching the snow fly past the windshield.
She was sore. She was messy. She was exhausted.
And she had never been happier.
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