OFF BASE: Bonus Scene Peach Grove Claiming

Peach Grove Claiming

Beck and Kenna/OFF BASE

Peach Grove Claiming

by Tessa Bailey

Kenna walked through the peach grove, a plastic jug of lemonade swinging by her side. Yeah, she was that girlfriend who brought refreshment to the hard-working men-so sue her. She'd worked damn hard herself that morning, having been commissioned by the local parks department for a statue honoring a local town legend, which just happened to be Beck's great-great-grandfather. A project she'd enjoyed all the more for its importance to her boyfriend.

Beck. Kenna was grateful for the summer breeze lifting the hair off her neck, as the mere act of thinking his name heated every inch of her skin, sent a languorous thrill sliding down her spine. They'd arrived in Georgia two weeks ago and true to his word, Beck had found her a workshop. Before they'd even unpacked, he'd begun clearing out a small barn adjacent to the house, working like a man possessed despite her assurances that she could wait. His aim to solidify her place in Georgia-eliminating any and all excuses to leave-was clear as the bright, blue, southern sky above her.

Watching Beck from the kitchen window as he'd carried lumber into the barn, she'd waited. Waited for her skittishness to return. Waited for her cowardly impulses to flair, sending her running back to Fort Black Rock, where she wouldn't have such pressure to hold up one end of a relationship. What did she know about relationships, anyway?

Nothing. And it didn't matter two shits. She had a man who cared enough to stay awake three nights in a row, building her a dream workshop, complete with Christmas lights and a hammock. A man who maintained just enough energy to flip her over upon finally returning to bed and claiming her like a lust-crazed animal. Yeah. You didn't question a single thing when a man like Beck found and kept you. So Kenna Sutton was holding on for dear life.

Masculine voices reached her from up ahead in the clearing, a circle of pick-up trucks peeking through the trees. Knowing Beck would be easy to spot, since he stood a foot taller than most, a smile was already beginning on Kenna's lips when she stepped off the path-

The jug of lemonade slipped from her fingers, but she never heard it hit the ground. Beck didn't see her, being that he was in the process of loading crated peaches into the back of his red truck...oh, but she certainly saw him. Today marked the first time she'd visited him in the grove and realized-with what little remained of her working brain-that he must have been showering in the bunk house before coming home each evening...because he was distinctly unshowered now. Dirt streaked his shirtless body. Every sinewy inch. Some splotches had even made it up to his jaw, his neck. Rivers of sweat interrupted the dirt throughout, leaving beads of moisture on his stomach, lower even, where that V disappeared into his worn jeans.

His back flexed as he loaded the crates, chords of muscle bunching all the way down to his ass, the top of which swelled above his waistband. Sweet Jesus, she didn't know where to look. There were several tears in his jeans around the thigh area-had his thighs grown even bigger since they'd driven south?

Kenna's mouth was parched, her palms damp. An invisible fist ground itself along the inside of her pelvis, creating such an immediate pressure to find relief, she must have made a sound, because Beck's head whipped around, twin blue eyes homing in on her with a mate's precision. He loaded the crate in his hands and started in her direction, those long strides making mince meat of the ground. And she couldn't help her baser nature, gaze dipping to the crotch of his jeans, where his manhood was clearly outlined by the sweat-moistened denim. No underwear today. As if Beck heard her thought out loud, his hand dropped down to adjust his bulk and the sight almost killed her.

"Hey, darlin'. You walked all the way out here?" When Beck's towering form reached her, he stooped down to pick up the fallen-and forgotten-lemonade jug, before rising to run concerned eyes over person. "I would have come and picked you up."