Alphas of Red Moon Ranch(57)

She took his hand in hers and gave it a squeeze right back. “It’s a big house for a big girl. It’s perfect,” she said.

That got a nice deep chuckle from the older man and he released her hand. “Good to see you, my dear.”

“You too, Pastor,” she replied, immediately warmed by the light that broke through the stained glass. At the ranch, she occasionally felt shackled to expectations or weighted down with worry for Jacob. She had two sanctuaries, places she called her own. The first was her office—now fully cluttered with her favorite books and plans for the rest of the semester. The second was St. Mary’s, which always welcomed her with open arms, even if she was the outsider in a small, close-knit town.

There was a stale edge in the air, however, and she could feel it when her eyes swept the familiar pews. Jacob led her to their spot, near the front of the church, where Cassidy and her family had already taken their places. Trish spotted Holly and grinned eagerly, squirming over to give the older woman a place beside her. Holly returned the smile and murmured greetings to the family; Cassidy and Jacob kissed cheeks and Holly heard Jacob murmur in his sister’s ear, We need to talk.

Holly sat down in the pew and—oh—that hurt. She was still sore from the spanking she’d received last night and she shifted uncomfortably in her spot, adjusting her dress. Jacob’s eyes caught on her like a fishing lure and he smiled, cocky bastard. This was not the place to be thinking about how his palm had felt against her ass, or the surge of strength she’d felt when he’d bared his carnal side to her. Holly felt a blush rise hot in her cheeks and she willed it away, knowing Jacob would see that, too.

She tried to focus on other things instead. Trish launched into a diatribe about the current book she was reading (and could she borrow the sequel from Holly?). Holly nodded, but her eyes trailed through the church until she found Brent. Even worse at dressing for church than his older brother, Brent wore clean clothes, at least, but his head was mostly hidden under his Stetson hat. He kept his head bowed as though he didn’t want to be seen. Beside him, Miranda and Cayden filed into the pew, dressed in sharp, freshly pressed whites.

Holly’s heart went out to the younger Westmore, but she knew she couldn’t do anything about it, not now, anyway. Time would chip away at Jacob’s hard exterior, and if not, Holly would take a chisel and hammer to him herself.

Pastor Mitchell took the pulpit and all talk died down. Holly focused on the sermon and felt Jacob take her hand as it began. He didn’t let go throughout the whole service and she found herself tuning in and out of the pastor’s words, focusing instead on the small, lazy brush of Jacob’s thumb. Close. They still had distance to cross, but after last night, she felt closer to him than ever before.

When the sermon came to an end, the pastor urged everyone to bow his or her head in silent prayer. Holly knelt on the bench and dropped her forehead. After a couple minutes, she felt Jacob’s hand squeeze her shoulder and she glanced up at him. “Take your time,” he murmured in the shell of her ear. “I’ll see you outside.”

“Okay,” she whispered. He pressed a small kiss to the side of her face and then vanished.

Holly pressed her forehead back down against the cool wood of the pew in front of her and let out a breath. Here, with the low hum of spiritual energy vibrating around her, she felt like she could truly focus.

Dear God, she prayed. Stopped. Thought about it. Then tried again: Dear God…thank you for bringing Jacob into my life. Thank you for giving me this new chance at love. Please give Jacob the strength he needs to control himself right now. He’s going through a hard time—a really hard time. Which, you know. Obviously. Anyway…sorry.

Holly pressed her forehead a little harder into the bench in front of her, trying to realign her thoughts as they bounced frantically around her head. Finally, she prayed: Dear God, please give me the strength to be what he needs. Give me the guidance to help bring his family back together. Give me the tools to be a loving wife and a supportive mate. Give me the strength to tame the Beast inside of him.

She took in a deep breath. Her mind drifted again to that moment over the couch, when he spanked her again and again. She remembered the spike of power she felt in that moment. The feeling he needs me beat in her chest like a second heart with every spank. He won’t leave me. Not now. Not ever. He can’t. I’m the only one who can give this peace to him. That kind of strength…it was something she had never felt before. And, she was quickly realizing, it was dangerously addictive. Maybe too addictive. Quietly, to herself, she admitted in her final prayer: Give me the strength to tame the beast inside of myself.