Sixteen

SIXTEEN

Charli’s heart played a riotous beat as Grant guided her none too gently toward the barn. His jaw was set in a way that warned her to keep her mouth shut. She’d pissed him off. Again. She didn’t know whether to run from him or throw herself at his mercy.

But for some reason, neither protest nor apology would form on her lips. She feared the unknown, of what lay behind those big barn doors, but she didn’t fear him. Somehow being dragged into a barn in the middle of freaking nowhere by a guy she barely knew felt right. Part of her wanted his wrath, wanted to see him yank off that stoic mask.

Yep, she was officially certifiable.

He pulled up short before they reached the large doors and turned to her. With rough hands, he yanked off her robe and then took a pocketknife from his belt.

He repeated the process on the other side, then tugged the panties off. He held the shredded material in his hand, no doubt feeling how wet they were. He cocked an eyebrow at her, but didn’t comment on it. “Lose the shoes. You walk in with nothing.”

Finally, he reached in his pocket and pulled out a key to unlock the barn. The massive door swung open with a loud creak, piercing the silence around them. Was this really where his dungeon was? Was he going to make her lie in hay? Her skin itched at the thought.

But when they stepped in and he flipped on the lights, she realized hay was the last thing she needed to worry about. The space had been totally converted. Thick beams supported the impossibly high wood-planked ceiling, and large skylights let the moonlight in. There was also an open second level, presumably what used to be the storage portion of the barn, flanking both sides.

But what dominated her line of sight was the massive bed in the center of the room and the iron ring hanging over it. To a casual observer, the ring would look like a light fixture, some sort of medieval chandelier to hold candles. But as Charli’s eyes trailed up the chain that went all the way to the apex of the pitched ceiling, she knew it had nothing to do with lighting.

Other equipment and cabinets filled different areas, but as his gaze traveled over the room, she found herself overwhelmed. It was like landing on another planet where she didn’t quite speak the language. She wet her lips and looked to Grant, shutting everything else out.

He crossed his arms, his anger still simmering right below the surface. “Get onto the bed on your knees and face the right wall.”

She glanced at the bed. Hesitated.

She winced and hurried over the bed, scrambling into position. The mattress was firm beneath her knees, and the dark red sheets were the only adornment. No fluffy pillows, no comforter. This was not a place for sleeping.

Grant walked over in no hurry, his boots thudding against the tiled floor like the slow, steady beat of a bass drum. “Lift your arms above your head, Charlotte.”

This time she knew not to hesitate. He disappeared from her line of sight as she raised her arms. The sound of metal grinding against metal skittered over her skin, raising her anxiety. She looked up and saw the iron ring moving downward. Oh, shit. She peeked over her shoulder to find Grant leaning against one of the supporting beams, his finger on a switch.

She dragged her gaze back to the opposite wall and tried to steady her breathing. In. Out. In…The cranking noise stopped, and music with a heavy beat but no words replaced it. Grant walked over and stood against the edge of the bed, filling the space in front of her. He ran his hands along her lifted arms, leaving a trail of goose bumps in his wake, then circled soft rope around both her wrists. “Tonight I was planning to take my time and bind you in a beautiful pattern, was going to be gentle with you since you’re new to this.”

He threaded the other end of the ropes through holes in the contraption above her head and pulled, leaving hardly any slack. She rubbed her lips together, nervous words crawling up her throat. “I’m sorry, I—”

She choked down her protest.

She winced, his words as effective as that smack to her cheek earlier.

He released her chin and made a frustrated noise. “You think your tits are too small?”

She looked down to the corner of the bed, shame burning through her. Wasn’t this supposed to be fun? If he was going to enumerate her many flaws, she’d never be able to handle it. The word Texas hovered at the back of her throat.

Something cold and metallic touched her nipple. She glanced down right as Grant tightened the tiny clamp around her flesh. She gasped, the quick snap of pain and pleasure catching her off guard.

He gave the other breast the same treatment, and then tugged on the light chain connecting the two clamps. Her head tipped back, the dual sensations shooting straight downward as if the clamps were connected to her clit instead of her breasts. “Shit.”

He gave her a dark smile as he cupped her sex and slid a finger in with ease. “Mmm, see what I mean? So hot and slick already. Responsiveness trumps cup size any day.”

She whimpered, her body clenching around him, needing more. The safe word died on her lips.

He pulled his hand away and brought it to his mouth, sucking her arousal from his finger. “Responsive and sweet.”

The iron rattled above her as she shifted her weight, her need for his touch making her restless.

He flicked her clamped nipple, causing her to yelp. “Calm down, Charlotte. Patience is a virtue.”

She clenched her jaw at the sting and had to bite back a sharp retort.

He gave a low chuckle. “Keep looking at me like that, and I’ll make you wait even longer. This is not about what you want. This is about taking the punishment that you’ve earned, about hearing what I’m trying to get through that hard head of yours.”

Her wrists wriggled in the bindings. Even with him goading her, her body was getting hotter, wetter. She didn’t understand the response. She dropped her focus to the sheets.

She did as she was told and fought hard to keep her eyes down and not peek at what he was doing. But curiosity won.

Grant turned to the large armoire that flanked the wall behind him and opened the doors. Charli had to hold back her gasp as the contents came into view. Shelves of items in boxes filled the interior, but the instruments hanging on the inside of the cabinet doors were what drew her attention. A coiled whip, lengths of rope, a riding crop, what looked to be a cane of some sort, and any number of other things she couldn’t name.

Fear rippled over her. Fear and something else…

Grant turned back around, a small box in his hand. He gave her a wry smile as his gaze drifted over her body. “I see you like my collection.”

Her brows knitted. Did she? Picking apart the difference between fright and anticipation was growing murkier and murkier.

She glanced down to see a flesh-colored dildo in his palm. The chains rattled again, her heart now pounding louder than the rock music filtering through the barn.

He tossed the empty box to the side and then tapped her inner thigh with his free hand. “Spread your legs wider.”

She did, her body acting before her mind caught up. She flinched when he dragged the cool silicone along her folds, but her muscles trembled in anticipation. He tucked a finger inside her, readying her, then moved his hand away and inserted the dildo. She groaned, the fit tight, the sensation intense. Her fingers flexed against the ropes above as he slid it out a bit, then back in, nudging it deeper. God, was he going to be this slow and methodical about everything? He was going to drive her mad.

She shifted her legs back into position, her body clasping the invasion. Grant removed something from his pocket and pressed a button. Charli’s body arched as the dildo hummed to life, vibrating inside her. “Oh…”

Her face tilted toward the ceiling as sensation radiated outward, crawling over her nerve endings.

Grant brushed her cheek, his expression surprisingly tender. “You don’t like your body. You think you’re too tall, not soft and curvy enough.” He stepped back toward his cabinet and selected a riding crop. He faced her, rolling the shaft of the crop between his fingers. “You know what I see?”

She shook her head, fighting to stay focused despite the throbbing need overtaking her body. “No, sir.”

He snapped the crop against her mound, hitting right above her clit, and her control nearly shattered. She moaned and canted her hips forward. “Oh, God.”

He smiled and walked around the bed, disappearing from view. But she could sense when he stopped behind her, feel his stare. “I see a woman who isn’t afraid to bungee jump off a bridge or go after what she wants. A girl who likes to play at the edge.”

Grant traced the tip of the crop down her spine, sliding it over her sweat-dampened skin. “And that, sweet Charlotte, is the most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

She heard the riding crop slice through the air before it landed with a sharp smack against her ass. She reared up with a soft moan, the sensation foreign but somehow exactly what she craved—painful and sweet all at once. The vibrator shifted inside her and she clamped her thighs tight again, making sure not to let it slide out.

Grant hit her again on the back of her thigh, then on the other cheek. She writhed against the sting, somehow aching for more.

He increased the speed, landing blow after blow along her ass, her thighs, her back and shoulders. Smack. Smack. Smack. The rhythm of his swats matched the driving beat of the music, sending her senses into a tumble. Adrenaline flooded her system and her brain began to buzz, a soft, pleasant hum she could get lost in. She sagged against the bindings, sweat glazing her skin and her body pulsing with need. Her sex throbbed around the vibrator, silently begging for the real thing.

Her fingers curled, her palms opening and closing, searching for a hold on something as everything inside her seemed to be breaking open. Her breath rasped out of her. “Grant, sir, please…”

The crop stilled, but the vibrating inside intensified as Grant apparently dialed up the strength. A groan rumbled out of her, and his boots came back into view. She closed her eyes, needing every ounce of focus to fight off her release. Her whole body began to tremble.

The smooth leather touched her folds. “Come for me, Charlotte.”

Grant tapped the crop against her sex with a quick, smarting snap, and all semblance of her control fragmented into a million flecks of sensation. She screamed, her voice echoing through the cavernous space, as her orgasm flooded every nerve ending.

Grant continued to tap her with the crop, though with a softer hand, as her release rolled through her. Then, when she thought every ounce of energy had been wrung from her, he pulled off the nipple clamps, sending fiery pain spiraling in with the bliss. Another orgasm chased the first, short and intense. And she could do nothing but let it have her. The blinding sensations had stolen any control she had left over her own response. She was merely a blissed-out passenger on Grant’s train.

When her body finally quieted and the vibrator had been turned off, she melted against the bindings, the rope the only thing keeping her upright. Cool fingers touched the abraded skin at her wrists, and the tension gave way. Grant lowered her arms to her sides, rubbing the numbness from them, and then slowly eased the vibrator out of her. When he stepped back, she managed to raise her head and found him staring at her with the look of a man starved.

The sight stole her breath. Even though she knew she had to be a sight with streaked makeup and sweaty skin, she felt…beautiful.

He leaned forward and swiped moisture from her cheeks with his thumbs. “Are those good tears or bad ones, freckles?”

Confused, she reached up, touched her face. Had she been crying?

But with speed she wouldn’t have thought herself capable of at the moment, she grabbed his forearm, halting him. “Please. Don’t. I need…” His pulse beat hard and steady beneath her fingertips as she formed her thoughts.

Yes, part of her felt spent, like she’d been sliced right open and emptied, but something deep and indefinable yearned for more. Yearned for Grant. Inside her. On her. Invading her every cell. She wanted him to overtake her. To lose herself in him.

His expression darkened, a sinister and wholly carnal desire flashing through his blue eyes. He pulled his arm from her grip. “Undress me.”

Her blood surged at the words alone. She was going to be able to touch him, to see him. She scooted to the edge of the bed and stood on still shaky legs. “I’d love to.”

She went to work on the buttons of his shirt, taking her time and enjoying the heat of his skin beneath her fingers. Without taking his eyes off her, he shrugged it off his shoulders, revealing a broad chest dusted with dark hair—sexy and masculine with a few scars from battles he’d probably never tell her about. She touched one smooth slash high on his shoulder, and he put his hand over hers, silently warning her.

She moved her hand away and went to the waistband of his jeans. Her fingertips traced over his hard belly, following the faint line of hair disappearing behind his jeans. She unbuttoned his fly and dragged the zipper down, finding no underwear beneath. His hard length sprang forth, and she dipped her hands into his open fly, unable to resist cupping and stroking him.

He grunted, a short, deep sound that told her he was more wound up than his expression revealed. “I didn’t give you permission to touch.”

Reluctantly, she pulled her hand back and dropped to her knees to pull off his boots. “I’m sorry, sir.”

He asked her to remove his shoes and his jeans. Then when she stood again, he clamped a hand around her throat, pressing her collar into her skin in a possessive hold. “Apology accepted. On your back, sweet Charlotte.”

She let him guide her down, his hand still on her neck as he climbed onto the bed with her. The sheets were cold against the sensitized skin of her backside, but all she could focus on was the man looming above her and the intoxicating feeling of being beneath his hand.

His hair fell across his forehead as he shifted his weight, planting his palms on each side of her and settling between her open thighs. He rubbed his cock along her still slick folds, sending sparks through her. “You look good with my collar and marks on you, freckles. You like wearing them?”

Fuck, she was in trouble.

Grant rose to his knees and turned, locking both of Charli’s ankles into leather cuffs attached to the footboard, then positioned himself over her again. She tugged at the chains, but he knew there was only enough slack for her to bend her knees. Her body stiffened beneath him as a glimmer of fresh panic went through her.

She inhaled a few deep breaths, and as her instinctive response gave way, lovely surrender came to the surface. Her pupils dilated and her nipples, red and swollen from the clamps, hardened. God, she was perfect.

He could feel her wet heat pressing against his shaft and his balls tightened with want. She’d said she needed him. His gut had twisted at the plea. Had sent him entertaining the idea of extending this two-week training. She was everything he craved in a sub. Adventurous, feisty, and so fucking responsive it made his head spin. The things he could do with her, the edges they could find together. He could spend hours finding ways to draw that sexy whimper from her.

He glanced at the condom he’d placed on the bedside table, then discarded the thought. The urge to mark her, feel her against him without any barrier, gnawed at him. They’d both been tested and she’d put in her paperwork she was on birth control. “I don’t want anything between us tonight, Charlotte. If that’s not okay, tell me now.”

He smiled and pinned her arms above her, his palm flattening her forearms to the bed but avoiding her rope-abraded wrists. “You’re so pink and swollen everywhere I could spend hours just nibbling and licking each part of you.”

He bent down and circled the tip of his tongue over her abused nipple. She rewarded him with that sexy mewl of hers, and his cock stiffened to the point of no return. He had to have her. Right. Now. He lifted his head, then buried himself inside her without finesse. Another minute not inside her was a minute too long.

He rocked back, sliding out, then sheathing himself again. The slow pace was insanity making, but he wanted to savor it, savor her. He liked feeling her writhe beneath him when he pulled out, as if she couldn’t bear to not have his cock filling her. She tilted her head back, eyes closed, and soft, begging words passed her lips.

He groaned and thrust into her again. Fuck, he loved having her beneath him, hearing her, feeling her. He kept one hand pressed down on her arms and moved his other hand back to her throat. Her eyelids snapped open, but her gaze was unfocused, enraptured. She liked him holding her like that. Her need for real surrender was palpable.

He increased his speed and put gentle pressure against her throat. Breath play was banned at The Ranch because he didn’t want to take on the liability of untrained people using it on his property, but a firm neck hold could bring someone like Charli to a new edge. And he wanted to go there with her.

She moaned with every thrust and the chains rattled behind him as she tried to wrap her legs around him. Pressure built low and urgent in him, and he tilted his hips to grind his pelvis against her clit. “Go over with me, baby.”

As if he’d flipped a switch, a cry ripped out of her, and her pussy spasmed around him. “Grant…”

Filling her. Marking her as his.

Mine, his mind whispered.

Mine.

When both their groans eased to soft panting, he let his head drop and ended up forehead to forehead with her, enjoying the quiet between them. Quivers continued to drift through them, gentle vibrations rolling over them as their bodies absorbed the aftershocks of their shared orgasm. They remained that way for a while, their heartbeats and breath slowing together, synchronizing…and then she reached up and touched his cheek.

He lifted his head to find her looking at him with soft eyes. She drew the pad of her thumb over his stubble. “Grant.”

A simple word, but something cracked open inside him, her tenderness and his whispered name on her lips too much to bear. He no longer had the strength to stop himself—even when he knew it was the stupidest and cruelest move he could make.

He lowered his head, and he kissed her.

Kissed her like he meant it.

Because he did.

SEVENTEEN

Grant deepened the kiss as Charli’s fingers threaded through his hair. Her lips were as soft as he’d imagined, her mouth hot and yielding. He wanted to lose himself in the kiss, to mold her against him and spend the rest of the night tangled up with her, idly exploring each other. But as he stroked his tongue along hers, images of the last woman he’d kissed filled his mind, pushing out the blissful moment of a second before. Raw emotion scraped at his insides, ugly guilt slashing at him. No, no, no. He broke off the kiss, pulling away as the massive barn seemed to close in around him.

Charli looked up at him with questions in her eyes. He pushed himself up and off of her, his heart thumping way too hard.

Charli sat up on her elbows. “Is everything okay?”

He put his back to her and worked on the second cuff. Run. Run. Run. “It’s fine. I’ll get you out of these and then get the shower started so you can get cleaned up.”

The cuff opened and the bed shifted as she pulled her legs toward her. He turned to find her hugging her knees to her chest and looking down at her toes. A little shiver went over her.

Fuck. He was being the world’s worst dom. Her first big scene and instead of providing her with a cuddle and aftercare, he was in the middle of a goddamned panic attack. He took a deep breath, trying to get oxygen to his malfunctioning brain, and got up to grab robes from the drawer in the armoire and to shut off the music.

He donned one of the robes, then sat on the edge of the bed and wrapped the other one around her. He cupped her cheek, turning her face toward him, and forced his voice to sound calm. “You did beautifully, Charlotte. Perfect. Thank you for trusting me to take you that far.”

She nodded and her eyes went shiny. She swiped at the tears with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry. I have no idea why I’m crying. I feel ridiculous.”

And the dom, he thought, anxiety rising in him like high tide. He lowered his hand to his side.

She tucked her arms into the sleeves of the robe and pulled it more tightly around herself, her entire posture closing to him. “That makes sense.” She gave him a tight smile. “And a shower sounds great. That was a…thorough lesson.”

Right, a lesson, that’s what this was supposed to be. But if that were truly the case, he wouldn’t feel so damn gutted right now. This had been a mistake. He should’ve known better than to take a chance with Charli. From the start, something about her had tested his control, had made him lose sight of his rules.

He’d fucking kissed her. He hadn’t kissed anyone in over a decade. His throat felt like it had a fist closing around it. “I’ll be right back.”

He left her side, forcing himself to walk normally and not rush into the bathroom like he wanted to. When he reached it, he shut the door, pressed his back against it, and dragged his hands over his face. Sweat slicked his palms and his heart refused to slow down. Calm the fuck down. It was just a kiss.

He closed his eyes, expecting to see Rachel’s face waiting there. But for the first time in as long as he could remember, he couldn’t conjure up her image. Charli’s worried expression dominated his vision instead. And that made him feel shittier than anything else could’ve. He’d screwed up everything tonight—breaking the vow he’d made to Rachel’s memory and failing to provide Charli with the best experience she could have.

He needed to fix this. Now. He went to the sink, splashed some water on his face and got his breathing back to normal. Remembering what he was supposed to be doing in here, he turned on the shower to warm it up for Charli.

When he made his way back to the bed, Charli looked like she wanted to be anywhere but there. “You sure everything’s okay? Did I do something wrong?”

He didn’t miss the wince she tried to hide. “Why are you sorry?” She attempted a smile. “Am I that horrible of a kisser?”

She stared at him, her smile sinking, and the room seeming to chill around them.

Her speech had part of him wanting to grab her and tie her back down to the bed, show her that she wasn’t some notch on his bedpost. But having her think that was better than her knowing about all the riotous emotions she kicked up in him, all the ugly stuff that kiss had brought to the surface. He needed to get through this night and find his bearings again. “Towels are in the bottom cabinet.”

She’d shut him out.

God, he was an asshole.

Charli walked outside through the main door of the barn, freshly showered and wearing the jeans and T-shirt she’d packed in her bag. She’d never been more ready in her life to be alone. The overwhelming sex had been enough to process, but Grant’s kiss and subsequent retreat had her gray matter scrambled. She had so many clashing emotions going through her that her chest hurt more than the welts on her back.

She spied Grant sitting on a tree stump, staring out over the grounds, his forearms braced on his thighs. He somehow looked lost and right at home all at the same time—like being lost was his status quo. She took a deep breath, determined not to have another ridiculous emotional outburst in front of him, and headed his way.

He looked over at her when her shoe snapped a twig, his expression somber. “Hey.”

She stuck her hands in her pockets, awkwardness filling the air around them. “Hey.”

He turned his head, staring back out into the night. “I’m sorry I screwed things up tonight. I don’t want you thinking that you’re just another body to warm my bed. It’s not like that.”

She forced a casual shrug. “You told me upfront what this was. I wasn’t expecting a fairy tale.”

She rolled a pebble under her shoe, contemplating his words. There was so much he wasn’t telling her. She could feel whatever it was like a thick fog between them. When he’d pulled away from their kiss, he’d looked horrified. She should probably let it lie, but too many questions hung in the air. How was she supposed to go on with this ignoring that? “Grant, I need to know what happened in there.”

He didn’t look at her. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

She pressed her lips together, counting to three before she spoke. “So all that shit about trust only applies to me? I’m supposed to trust you to tie me up, hit me, and put myself in your hands, but you can’t even tell me why you freaked out over a simple kiss?”

He rubbed his palms on his jeans, staying quiet for a few long moments, then his shoulders dipped in resignation. “Have you ever made a promise to someone, Charli? Not something offhanded, but a real promise?”

She thought he may have not heard her, but after a few moments, Grant finally looked at her, pain etching his features. “Well, that kiss broke a promise I’ve kept for a really long time.”

The simple statement sucked all the wind out of her anger.

She knew then, recognized the grief, had seen it on her brothers’ faces and in her own reflection when their dad has passed away. “You lost someone.”

He stood, giving her a sad smile. “No, freckles, I lost everything. The wife I loved, an unborn son, and the life I thought I’d live.”

Her heart fissured in her chest, the rawness in his admission making tears burn in her throat. A hundred questions popped into her head. What had happened? When had it happened? How? But those answers were inconsequential. All that mattered was the anguish she could see weighing down Grant’s every limb. She stepped forward, wanting to touch him, wanting to do something to make it better, but unsure if he’d welcome her sympathy. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have pried.”

He sighed as he reached out to grab her waist, tucking her against his chest and sitting his chin on top of her head. “It’s okay. You deserved an explanation after I acted like a jackass tonight. Now you know.”

I’m broken. He didn’t say the words, but she heard them just the same.

He angled back, looking down at her, a little smile trying to form on his lips even though the sadness still lingered in his eyes. “Oh, you’re not getting off the hook that easily. You’ve got too much to learn. I’ll be fine. I’ve lived with this a long time. Training will recommence tomorrow. I promise my past won’t interfere again.”

She returned his smile, but a gnawing worry settled in her stomach. She was going to have to get a hold of her emotions ASAP, because if she had any more nights like tonight, she was in deep shit. Grant was already seeping under her guards, and even if she was discovering she could appreciate a little physical pain, she wasn’t up for emotional annihilation.

She could hold her own in a lot of competitions, but she’d never win against the dead love of his life.

EIGHTEEN

Grant leaned against the doorframe of Charli’s cabin, fighting a chuckle as she teetered out from the bedroom on a pair of black heels. She looked smoking hot in the outfit he’d brought over. The snug gray pencil skirt hugged her hips just right and the tissue-thin silk blouse gave him a delicious glimpse of the lacy white bra she wore underneath. But the shoes, once again, were getting the best of her.

He grinned. “You look fucking edible, though. So there’s that.”

She smirked, but he caught the flash of pleasure in her eyes at the compliment. She put a hand on the back of the couch to steady herself. “Thanks.”

She rolled her eyes, and he made a mental note to pay her back for that little nod of disrespect later. “So why am I dressed like this? I didn’t see anyone else wearing this kind of thing at The Ranch.”

He grabbed his Stetson, which he’d set on the entryway table when he’d come in, and secured it on his head. Then he put out a hand to her. “Oh, I never said we were going to The Ranch. Today I have an important business meeting with some distributors for the winery. And you, sweet Charlotte, are going to be my assistant.”

Her eyes widened as she took a hesitant step forward and placed her hand in his. “What?”

He slid his hands over her ass, loving the fact that she was bare underneath that tight little skirt. It took all he had not to lift it up and bend her right over the sofa. “You’re going to do fine. And if you don’t, you’ll pay later. If you’re rude to anyone, embarrass me in any way, or talk back to me in front of them, there will be a punishment.”

She shuddered against him and he smiled inwardly. Charli would never admit it, but that little kernel of fear fed her. He could see it in the ways her pupils dilated the instant he mentioned possible punishment.

He pressed a finger to her lips. “That’s for me to determine and you not to worry about.”

He’d figured out pretty quickly that Charli didn’t have a femininity problem, she had a confidence problem. She expected people to be critical and steeled herself up for it, which inevitably came across as her being bristly and harsh. And he knew if he put her in a room of businessmen who were probably similar to that board of directors she was trying to impress, he could show her that she had everything she could possibly need to wow them.

He could honestly give a shit if she messed up in front of his colleagues, but he wanted to put the added pressure on her so she’d know how to pull it off when she had everything riding on her performance. Plus, a little role-playing would provide some much needed distance between the two of them. Things had gotten too raw last night. Too real. A fun little game was just what the doctor ordered.

He stepped back from Charli and removed something from the inner pocket of his jacket. “You look so prim and proper with your hair pinned up like that. I think these will be the perfect final touch.”

He handed her the dark-rimmed glasses and her eyebrow arched. “Last I checked, I don’t have a vision problem.”

She put her hand to her hip and tilted her head, batting her eyelashes in mock coyness. “What? You don’t have one of those fantasies, cowboy?”

He grabbed her wrist and put her hand against his quickly hardening erection. “Not really. But maybe I have one about a hot little secretary.”

Her fingers curled along the outline of his cock, stroked. “I’m not that kind of employee, Mr. Waters. Or that kind of girl.”

Nice. Already she was slipping into character. “We’ll see. I know how badly you need this job, Ms. Beaumonde.”

He clasped her arm and moved her hand away before she pushed him past the point of self-control. “Let’s go. If you make me late for my own business meeting, I’ll be very unhappy.”

And oh, what fun he’d have disciplining her for the tardiness.

Charli had to work hard to keep up with Grant’s long strides as they headed over to the biggest building on the non-Ranch side of the property—home to Water’s Edge Wines. Walking in heels along gravel was like learning to drive a stick shift on a steep hill; it took all of her concentration. While she worked on not face-planting, Grant explained that the main operation of Water’s Edge and its employees worked out of a satellite office in Dallas, but that he liked to bring clients out here for meetings sometimes because they enjoyed seeing the vineyards.

Hearing him talk about his business, she could hear the pride in his voice, the dedication. This was no side business for him. It was a passion.

When they reached the building, he opened the door for her and let her walk inside first. The inside was rustic, not unlike the building at The Ranch, but there was a refined elegance present as well. The wall opposite the entrance was covered with smooth river rock, and a hidden spotlight projected the logo for Water’s Edge Wines onto the stones. Water slid over the rocks, making the logo seem to ripple before falling into a fountain below.

To the right was a curved reception desk. A tall, gray-haired woman rose from behind the desk, greeting Charli and Grant with a warm smile. “Hello, Mr. Waters. Everyone is already here and set up in the conference room.”

Madeleine gave Charli a sly look, like they were sharing some unspoken secret, then nodded. “Very well.”

Madeline glided from behind the desk with an elegance Charli could only dream of having. She walked with the confidence of royalty, the effect making her appear much younger than she probably was. Madeleine put a hand on Grant’s biceps as she passed and gave him a little squeeze and a wink. “Good boy.”

Charli watched her leave, a little stunned, then turned to Grant. “Why do I feel like I missed a joke?”

He shook his head, but seemed amused. “Maddy isn’t just an employee, she’s a good friend and one of the fiercest dommes you’ll ever meet. She’s been badgering me to take on a new sub for months. Told me celibacy will age me before my time.”

Grant put his hand to the small of her back, guiding her forward. “Apparently, her radar for submissives is more finely tuned than mine.”

Charli pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. That couldn’t possibly have been Grant admitting he’d been wrong about her. That maybe his initial assessment of her had been a swing and a miss. She should buy a helmet—the sky might collapse.

The smile she’d been fighting broke through anyway. “Sorry, sir.”

He stopped in front of pair of frosted glass doors. “Now don’t embarrass me. I expect you to be professional. These people are important.”

The warning had her grin sagging and her back straightening. Nerves settled around her like high-strung little birds, twittering all the what-ifs in her ear. She and Grant may be playing roles, but the people on the other side of that door were real. Grant’s business and reputation weren’t a game. She rubbed her lips together, smoothing her lipstick, and nodded her readiness.

He pushed open the doors and she followed behind him, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. The last thing she needed was to trip and fall. The fearsome image of her doing a belly flop and exposing her lack of underwear to a room full of businessmen had her walking with the deliberateness of a gymnast on a balance beam.

The long conference table was filled with men in suits and one woman in a smart maroon blouse. Conversation was humming between them all, but quieted when they noticed Grant.

Charli laced her fingers together in front of her, trying to blend into the background. The less she was noticed, the less chance she had of doing something wrong.

Greetings were exchanged, and Grant let everyone make introductions. Most everyone was involved with either a restaurant chain or a gourmet store—all places that could stock Grant’s wine. Grant turned to her. “Charlotte, I have some brochures about the new line we’re rolling out. They’re in the bottom drawer of that file cabinet in the corner. Please retrieve them and make sure everyone has a copy.”

She leaned down, keeping her voice low “Excuse me, I’m sorry, but I need to get by.”

He glanced up, his blue-eyed gaze colliding with hers. The smile he gave her could probably slay a cheerleading squad in one fell swoop. He was pretty in that way that was almost too perfect. She preferred the more rugged look, like Grant, but even she wasn’t immune to this version of male beauty. He rocked forward in his seat, putting both feet on the ground, and rolled the chair to the side. “No problem.”

Once he was out of the way, she moved toward the file cabinet, eyeing it warily. Grant had said the bottom drawer. Her pencil skirt wasn’t overly short, but it was formfitting and there was no bending over easily. She peeked up at the front of the room and caught Grant watching her even though he was speaking easily about his new products. His lips tugged up at the corner, letting her know he was well aware of the predicament he’d put her in.

Dammit. She looked at the cabinet again, and noticed Grant wasn’t the only one keeping an eye on her. Blondie gave her a sideward glance as he made more notes. Apparently, he had figured out her quandary, too. Not that he was offering any help or anything. With a huff, she attempted to get to her knees gracefully. Using the rocking motion she’d failed in the intro class, she managed to hit the floor without a sound and without exposing her ass to the world. Win!

She grinned and Blondie coughed, the noise sounding suspiciously like a muffled laugh, but she pretended to ignore him. The file drawer was full of materials, but she found the stack of brochures Grant had requested and grabbed them. Of course, now she had to get back up. She used her free hand to propel herself upward off the floor, but before she got to a full stand, her heel caught in the carpet and she had to reach out for the wall, dropping the papers all over the floor.

All heads turned toward her. She cringed, her cheeks going hot. So much for blending into the background. Blondie jumped up from his seat to help her.

Grant pinned her with a hard look, like an arrow shooting across the room and fastening her to the wall. “Is there a problem, Charlotte?”

His words should have embarrassed her—he was admonishing her in front of all these people—but hell if she didn’t go wet from his authoritative tone. Her nipples went as hard as pebbles against the thin blouse. Fuck. “I’m sorry, sir. Just a little clumsy.”

He gave a put-upon sigh, letting her know she’d just earned a mark in the punishment column. “Kade, thank you for helping. Now back to what I was saying…”

Grant returned to his presentation, and Charli crouched down as best she could to help Kade. “Thank you, I’ve got it, really.”

He bent close to her ear. “His?”

It was a simple word. A simple question. But the idea behind it had something strange welling up inside her. An ache that seemed to open up a fissure right down the center of her chest. She nodded even though it wasn’t true. She wasn’t Grant’s. Not really. Would never be.

She stood there for too long. Kade’s interest was flattering. A week ago, a guy like him would’ve never given her a second glance. But for some reason, she wanted to cry. She stared at Grant, watching him captivate the room with his knowledge and his easy humor. He was so vibrant, so full of confidence. But she knew what lay beneath it, saw how lonely and lost he’d been last night.

She’d only seen that look on one other man—her father. And that grief over love lost had sucked the joy out of the last fifteen years of her dad’s life. A broken heart had killed him slowly and painfully.

And she’d be damned if she was going to stand by and let Grant do the same thing to himself. She may not be able to compete with the memory of his wife, but after that kiss last night, maybe she had a shot of reminding him he could feel something.

Because like it or not, she was starting to feel more than lust toward the cocky cowboy.

Maybe it was time for the trainee to turn trainer.

NINETEEN

Charli kept herself together for the rest of the meeting. She served cheese and samples of the wines, helped hand out more documents, and adjusted the slide projector when Grant asked. She was finally getting used to the heels and managed not to trip again. But as soon as she got a minute free, she scrawled a note on the back of one of the handouts and set it on top of Kade’s legal pad.

She pretended to take a strong interest in the presentation, but she didn’t miss the curious look or the barely concealed smile when Kade read her note. When she refilled his water glass a few minutes later, the slight nod from him was all she needed. The plan was a go.

Now the question was, could she actually pull it off?

Grant wrapped up the meeting, and everyone started to gather their things to head out. Many went toward the front of the room to shake hands and talk shop with Grant, and the room grew exponentially louder as people chatted amongst themselves. But after exchanging a few quick words with the man next to him, her recruited partner in crime made his way over to her.

Kade wasn’t as tall as Grant, but he still had an inch or two on her, and he walked with the swagger of a guy who knew he didn’t have to try too hard. When he got close enough, he put out his hand. “We weren’t properly introduced. Kade Vandergriff.”

His accent was refined twang—old Texas money, she’d guess. She gave him her hand. “Charlotte Beaumonde.”

Instead of shaking her hand, he brought it to his mouth and laid a kiss on it. “A pleasure, Charlotte.”

Her gaze shifted toward the front of the room, and she caught Grant peering in her direction. She looked back to Kade and put on her best attempt at a seductive smile. “Thank you so much for helping me, Mr. Vandergriff…with the brochures. I can’t believe I was so clumsy.”

She tilted her head and laughed a little, like he’d said something wildly charming. “I have my reasons.”

He said it with good humor, but her cheeks warmed anyway. They were putting on a show for someone else’s benefit, but she could sense Kade was being genuine. He was flirting with her and helping her out because he found her attractive. The thought gave her a secret little thrill. Maybe this whole thing was transforming her. A week ago she would’ve never felt confident enough to even faux flirt with someone like Kade.

She bit her lip, attempting to look coquettish, and Kade reached out to push a hair that had escaped her French twist behind her ear. His fingers lingered at her nape a bit too long.

Her heart sunk. Damn. Maybe this wasn’t going to work at all. Maybe what she’d thought had happened between them last night really wasn’t anything more than sex. Maybe she was the only one developing a stupid attachment.

Epic fail, Beaumonde.

Grant couldn’t even hear the words coming out of Chef Lane Donovan’s mouth. Blood was roaring in Grant’s ears, and his temperature was rising faster than the desert in summer. What the fuck was Kade Vandergriff doing with Charli?

Seducing her?

By the looks of it—yes. Charli couldn’t seem to stop smiling, and the fucker had just touched her. Touched his sub.

Asshole.

Kade was a friend, a colleague, and a member at The Ranch. A good guy. But right now Grant had the urge to throttle him. Grant dragged his attention back to Lane. “Can I give you a call on Monday and we can discuss the details? I want to make sure we get you exactly what you need to complement your spring menu.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Grant saw Charli put a hand to Kade’s chest in that oh-stop-it thing women did. He ground his teeth together. Well, Charli had certainly honed her flirting confidence in the last few days. With a quick good-bye to his friend, he freed himself from his conversation with Lane and headed toward the back of the room, forcing himself to be calm. This wasn’t a playroom at The Ranch; the same rules didn’t apply.

But Charli’s eyes widened when she caught sight of him coming her way, so his expression must have been more charging bull than he’d intended. Grant laid a hand on Kade’s shoulder, squeezed firmly enough to make a point. “Vandergriff, glad to see you could make it out here today.”

Kade turned around, wearing an easy smile, and shook Grant’s hand. “Of course. Your wines always do well in our locations, so I wanted to see what the new products were going to be.”

Kade gave Charli a too-friendly look. “Yes, she was telling me her position with you is temporary, so I was letting her know that I’m in the market for a permanent…assistant if she was interested.”

The words and the unspoken meaning behind them were like a fist to the jaw. Grant’s fingers flexed, the urge to pull Charli to his side almost impossible to deny. But Vandergriff wasn’t saying anything that wasn’t true. Grant’s agreement with Charli was a short one. If she discovered she liked the submissive role, she could move on to whichever dom she wanted. And Kade was a great one. Hell, if Charli had been a normal trainee, he’d already be looking for which dom to match her with at the end of training. And Kade would’ve probably hit the list.

But dammit if Grant didn’t feel like punching out every one of Kade’s perfectly straight teeth at the thought. And that feeling was one of the most dangerous ones he’d had in a while. He couldn’t feel territorial about Charli. She was going to walk away in a little over a week. Even if he offered to extend their arrangement, she’d never settle for what he was willing to give. She’d naturally gravitate to doms like Kade who were in the market for a relationship, who wouldn’t flinch at the idea of a kiss or sleeping in the same bed, who’d be capable of truly loving her.

Something tightened in his chest. Fuck. What was going on with him? He wasn’t this guy. He was possessive with his subs, but he didn’t do jealousy. The feeling was so foreign he almost hadn’t recognized it.

Whatever attachment he was forming to Charli needed to be broken now. She wasn’t really his, and he needed to stop acting like she was going to be. This was training. And fucking. And fun. In a few days they were both going back to their own lives. He needed to get that through his thick skull.

He sucked in a deep breath, bracing himself for what he was about to do. “Charlotte, it is highly inappropriate to discuss employment with someone else while you’re still working with me.”

She looked down, the fake glasses sliding down her nose a bit. “Sorry, sir. I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

Her head snapped up. “What? But—”

He raised a finger, quieting her protest. “Don’t try to backpedal now. I need to discuss a few things with Kade, then you and I are going to have a chat.”

Grant clapped Kade on the back. “You got a few minutes, Vandergriff? I’d like to iron out the details about the tastings you wanted to set up at your locations.”

Kade’s surprise was evident, but he recovered quickly, smoothing his expression. “I could probably stay for a bit.”

Fear flared in her eyes, and he could see her pulse hopping against her throat, but she nodded. “Yes, sir.”

He turned around and headed out of the conference room with Kade at his side. Grant was going to fix his little jealousy problem and make this good for Charli, but boy, was it going to take every ounce of his willpower to allow it to happen.

TWENTY

Charli stood in front of Grant’s closed office door, trying to hold herself up on shaky resolve. Voices murmured on the other side. Kade was obviously still with Grant. And she had a feeling he may not be going anywhere anytime soon.

What the hell had she gotten herself into? She’d tried to reverse the rules on Grant, and it had completely backfired. Instead of stirring up his possessiveness, she’d managed to inspire him to bring in someone else.

Clearly, he didn’t have any feelings for her. This was simply a game. Sex. Power play. An arrangement. Her insides twisted at the realization, but she knew it’d been a long shot anyway. How could she expect him to feel anything for her when they still hardly knew each other? She’d been ridiculous to think she could drag him out of the cave he’d locked himself in when his wife had died.

She needed to accept this fact and enjoy their arrangement for what it was worth—great sex. An adventure with a man who could coax her body to heights she hadn’t known existed. She was going to have to tamp down her own misguided emotions and focus on the physical, on the way her body responded to him. Even with the emotional letdown, knowing what was on the other side of this door had her woefully turned on—albeit slightly terrified. She could do this. Keep it on the surface.

Men did it all the time. And if she knew anything about herself, it was that she could go toe-to-toe with any man on just about anything.

After one deep, cleansing breath, she knocked on the door.

She turned the knob and slowly opened it, the creak of the hinges echoing through the now-empty building. When she stepped inside, she had to catch her breath. Sitting behind a massive wooden desk, Grant looked every bit the angry boss. He’d taken off his suit coat and hat, and his shirtsleeves were rolled to the elbows, a move she was starting to recognize as a harbinger. A hot shiver raced right down to her toes.

Kade sat in a chair on the other side of the desk, relaxed, his ankle resting on the opposite knee. He had his ever-present legal pad on his lap, notes scrawled across it. He gave her a quick glance, the deep blue of his eyes unreadable, then went back to his notes. She cleared her throat, feeling like she’d intruded on their business meeting. “You wanted to see me, sir?”

She bit the inside of her cheek. Even though she knew this was part of the game, the admonishment had her looking at a spot on the hardwood floor. “I apologize.”

He gave a heavy sigh and leaned forward, forearms on the desk. “Charlotte, I’m starting to doubt your commitment to the position. Maybe this isn’t the right job for you.”

She lifted her face to him. Was he actually doubting her dedication to him and the training, or was this all part of a script she wasn’t privy to? Either way she was ready to prove how wrong he was. “Please, Mr. Waters. I can do better. Give me another chance. I need this…job.”

And as the words slipped past her lips she realized how true they were. This had gone beyond some fun training, some way to get her promotion. A part of her now needed this, craved it. Craved him. The thought of walking out and just…stopping and going back to her regular life gave her a panicky feeling.

Ah, hell, she was so screwed.

Grant gave her an up-and-down perusal, his eyes cool. “Lock that door behind you, Ms. Beaumonde. Perhaps we can work something out.”

She kept her gaze locked with Grant’s and reached behind her to turn the lock on the door. The grind of the metal was deafening in the heavy silence of the room.

Grant rose from behind the desk and stepped toward her, his footfalls echoing off the floor. She remained rooted to her spot as he circled around her like a tiger deciding which part of his prey to tear into first. Kade’s gaze met hers, his interest evident, and Grant clamped a hand around the nape of her neck, startling her.

She swallowed hard as he nudged her forward toward the desk. He stopped along the edge, then pushed her flat against the surface, spreading her upper body across the top of the desk and removing her glasses. The angle and the high heels pushed her ass high, the position making her feel hopelessly vulnerable to him.

Hot palms cupped her ass through the thin fabric of her skirt, Grant’s thumbs tracing the line between her cheeks. Warmth leaked through her system, making her nipples tighten against the desk’s surface and wet need gather between her thighs. “Ah, will you look at that, Vandergriff. Apparently, Ms. Beaumonde is forgetful at home, too. Looks like she forgot to put on her panties today.”

Charli watched as Kade got to his feet and then disappeared from her line of sight when he moved next to Grant. Fingers found their way beneath the hem of her skirt and tugged upward. A little cry of surprise passed her lips as one of them shoved the tight skirt all the way to her hips, exposing everything.

She closed her eyes, trying to calm herself. Her body was revving like a race car engine. She didn’t want to like this. Didn’t want to think about the kind of girl this probably made her. The feminist in her was flailing about, but the protest was useless. Some part of her needed this. She couldn’t ever remember feeling as wantonly female as she did right now. Two gorgeous men looking at her and touching her like she was some sort of prize.

Grant slid two fingers inside her, coaxing a quiet moan from her. “Well, well, Ms. Beaumonde, maybe I’ve underestimated your skill set. If you feel as good around my cock as you do around my fingers, I may have to reevaluate your daily duties.”

She kept her eyes closed as he worked his magic, delving inside her, then sliding slippery fingers over her clit. “I’ll do whatever you need me to, sir.”

Before she could register what Grant had said, a hard slap rocked her backside. She cried out as the stinging rippled across her skin like a heat wave, waking up every receptor inside her. Kade clearly wasn’t going to be tentative. She barely had time to suck in another breath before another smack hit her other cheek.

The pain may have been too much in isolation, but as Grant’s hand continued to work her pussy, she felt the two ends of the pain/pleasure spectrum braiding together inside her, coalescing into that potent mix she was learning to feed on.

Kade didn’t pause in his mission. The slap of palm on skin echoed in her ears mixing with her own breathy noises. The side of her face pressed into the smooth surface of the desk as she inadvertently braced herself for the blows. But instead of shrinking away from the spanking, she found her hips tilting upward of their own volition, her legs spreading to provide them both better access. Her thoughts began to blur at the edges, her brain drifting to that place it’d gone to the previous night where all that existed was sensation and the sound of Grant’s voice. The tension began to leach out of her muscles.

She lost track of how long, but Kade’s swats finally came to an end, and Grant’s fingers slipped from her. Gentle kisses pressed against the tingling skin of her rear, both men simultaneously soothing her and dialing up her need. A hot tongue circled the entrance of her pussy, and her back curved as a hard shudder went through her.

She dug her nails into the edges of the desk, trying to hold off orgasm as the two men pushed her closer and closer to the brink. “I’m going to come.”

Both of them stopped touching her in an instant. Footsteps echoed in her ears, then a hand was twisting in her hair. Grant’s voice was low and hot against her ear. “I decide when it’s time for that, Charlotte. And right now, you’ve gone and gotten us both hard. Take care of that, and then you can have what you want.”

She nodded as best she could with his grip so tight against her scalp. “Yes, sir.”

She forced her eyes open, met his gaze as he stared down at her. There was desire there, need, but there was also something she couldn’t read. Fear? Worry? But that wouldn’t make any sense. “I can handle whatever you think I deserve, sir. I trust you.”

He closed his eyes, his jaw flexing as he inhaled a deep breath. Then his grip gentled and traced a finger along the shell of her ear. His words were soft when he finally spoke, so low she doubted Kade could hear them. “I’m going to make this very good for you, Charli.”

For some reason, his earnest tone and the way he’d said her real name had a knot forming in her throat. He’d slipped out of the role-play, and she could almost see a mental shift in him, some tide turning. He gave her one last, long look that seemed to say so much, though she had no idea what the words would be, then turned away.

Charli’s heart began to pound in her ears. She was really going to do this. Part of her was turned on by the idea of having Grant share her like he had the exclusive right to who did and didn’t touch her, but anxiety curled in her stomach, invading the sexual energy humming through her. Something felt…off.

Grant scooted her forward on the desk, her silk blouse sliding along the polished wood, and Kade shoved the rolling desk chair out of the way. She could hear Grant walk to the other side of the room and open a cabinet while Kade filled the space in front of her, the hard ridge of his erection prominent against the front of his slacks. He grabbed Grant’s desk phone and pulled the coiled cord from the base and the receiver.

Her brow wrinkled, the statement not making sense to her. If Grant was so jealous, why was he sharing her? She peered up at Kade when he finished binding her. Shifting his eyes in Grant’s direction, he touched a finger to her lips, warning her not to voice her thought.

He crouched down in front of her, making a show of pulling the pins from her hair. “Call your safe word, Charlotte.”

The revelation tugged at her, making warmth of a different kind snake through her. Kade stood and went for the buckle of his pants, taking his time pulling the belt free. Grant took his place behind her again, his palms stroking along her hips. “You look delicious tied up like this, sweet Charlotte. You’re about to make the two of us very happy.”

Words seemed clogged in her throat, but when Kade dragged his zipper down, Charli found her voice. “Yellow!”

Grant’s hands froze in place and Kade backed up a step.

She tried to look behind her, a feat with her hands behind her back, but she managed to catch his eye. “Please, Grant. It’s okay that Kade is here, but I don’t want anyone inside me except you.”

As soon as the words were out, she knew them to be true. She wasn’t simply saying them for Grant’s benefit.

He stared at her for a moment, the blue of his eyes swirling with an indecipherable concoction of emotions. Then his eyes crinkled at the corners, an invisible smile. “You got it, darlin’.”

His lips hadn’t curved, but she’d seen the pleasure there and couldn’t help the ridiculous little leap of her heart.

Grant quickly unbound her hands and flipped her onto her back, his expression almost reverent. “It was brave to call your word. Thank you for letting me know. You sure you’re okay with everything else?”

Kade moved to the side of her desk, looming over her on the left. She looked up at him, silently thanking him, but the concerned-friend expression had evaporated. His blue eyes darkened as his gaze raked over her with uninhibited male appreciation. The look alone raised goose bumps on her skin. Kade may be a nice guy and a friend to Grant, but there was no doubt an intense dominance ran right beneath that layer. Kade freed his cock from his boxers and stroked up the length, spreading the bead of moisture on the tip with his thumb and not taking his eyes off her.

Grant set something on the desk next to her and in front of Kade. Lube. Kade squirted some in his palm, then glossed his shaft until it was thick and pink. The sight riveted Charli. She’d never watched a guy jerk off before and hadn’t imagined how freaking hot it could be to see a man taking his own pleasure. The fact that he was still wearing a full suit only added to the effect.

Grant’s fingers spread her, finding her soaked. “I think she likes the show, Vandergriff. Dirty girl.”

Charli’s attention snapped toward Grant. Was he going to jerk off, too? Because even though she’d love to see that one day, she may fucking die if he wasn’t inside her soon. Her body could only handle so much deprivation.

His smile was wicked, a dark promise. “Don’t worry, darlin’, I’m going to take good care of you. But I like seeing that panic in your eyes at the thought of me not fucking you.”

He tugged off her shoes and pushed her heels onto the edge of the desk, spreading her fully, then brushed a teasing finger over her back entrance. An involuntary moan slipped past her lips.

With slow, deliberate motion, he pumped his finger inside her ass, lighting up nerves she didn’t even know she had. Edgy sensation made her squirm. She arched her hips, not sure if she needed less or more.

Don’t think, just do. She brought her fingers to her sex, stroking herself the way she liked and brought her other hand to her breast, drawing her nipple between her fingers.

A soft groan sounded in her ears—Kade. “Fuck, she’s sexy.”

She hardly heard his instruction, the pleasure winding through her body and weighing her down, pulling her under. She touched herself without shame, not caring that two men were watching. She felt sensual and beautiful and more confident in her sexuality than she could ever remember feeling.

But right when she was sinking into the moment, something cool and unyielding pushed against her backside. She clenched automatically. But Grant’s palm stroked her thigh. “Easy, relax your muscles. It’s just a plug. You’re not ready to take me yet, but this will be a good start.”

Kade laid his free hand over the one she had against her pussy. “Keep going, Charlotte. You’re driving me fucking wild. I love watching you.”

She moved her fingers, dialing up the pleasure again, and Grant pushed the lubed plug past the tight ring of muscle, stretching her. She bucked against the bright burst of sensation. “Shit…”

Grant’s expression turned ravenous, and he unfastened his pants. “Don’t come yet. You’ve still got me to deal with.”

Holy hell.

He grabbed her beneath her knees, pushing the backs of her thighs up and out, opening her for him. She had no idea how she was going to take him, too, but she yielded to his knowing hands, trusting that he wouldn’t hurt her. His cock pressed against her soaked sex and, after a little bit of effort, slid in, filling her to the hilt. Every muscle in her body seemed to contract. The plug made everything tighter, fuller. It felt like he was everywhere.

He pumped into her, his cock jostling the plug with every thrust, and her fingers pinched and stroked her clit as if under someone else’s control. Her thoughts began to whirl into oblivion. She angled her head back, the onslaught of sensations making her body pulse with electricity. Orgasm waited impatiently in the wings, her mind holding it off until she heard the words she needed.

Though it was near impossible to keep her eyes open, she locked onto Grant’s gaze like a lifeline. But the intensity in his eyes was enough to knock what little control she had flat out of her. She was his in that moment. Whatever he said she would do. His pleasure was hers.

Sweat dotted his forehead and his hair was mussed, like he’d been running his hands through it. He looked like a beautiful beast, feral and determined, claiming his territory. And emotion danced through the blue of his eyes. He was in another place and was taking her there with him.

Moisture coated her fingers as she worked her clit, his pelvis hitting her knuckles with every thrust. Sensation climbed to a breaking point. Every tendon in her body seemed to coil, energy beating through her in colorful waves.

The dam broke, and the rush of it all crashed over her. A scream tore from her throat as her every molecule seemed to crackle with sparks. Her body writhed, trying to handle it all.

Kade’s groan mixed with their sounds of pleasure, and hot splashes landed against her skin—his release painting stripes across her breasts and belly.

She closed her eyes, absorbing the music of that sound, the feel of him surrendering to her as much as she was slave to him. She didn’t think she could ever tire of hearing him call for her like she was the only woman that existed in the world.

She knew when they drifted back to earth, the outside world would push in, but in that moment, lying there beneath him, she was truly happy.

Maybe for the first time in her life.

And possibly for the last.

TWENTY-ONE

After Grant helped clean Charli up and gave her his dress shirt to wear, she curled up in a chair near his office door, looking a little unsure of herself all of a sudden.

He frowned over at her but was distracted when Kade returned from the restroom and touched Grant’s arm. He turned to his friend, and Kade put a hand out to him. “I’m going to head out now, but thanks for inviting me in, Grant. She really is a lovely sub. You’re lucky to have found her.”

Grant shook his hand, weariness settling over him. “Thanks, man. I’m glad you had a good time. I wouldn’t have trusted her with just anyone.”

Kade smiled like he had some secret. “I know.”

They exchanged good-byes and Kade walked toward the door, stopping next to Charli. He reached out and brushed a hand over her hair. “Thank you, Charlotte. It was a privilege.”

She put her hand over his and gave him a warm smile. “You’re a good guy, Kade Vandergriff.”

Grant’s chest seized with jealousy, the simple move kicking up a shit storm inside him. Kade may have not entered Charli’s body, but he could give her something Grant couldn’t, a tenderness that, by the looks of it, Charli craved.

Kade straightened and gave her shoulder a quick squeeze. “Later, gorgeous.”

By the time Kade walked out, Grant’s mood had tanked. Later, gorgeous? Guess Kade would be looking Charli up after Grant’s time with her ended. He gritted his teeth and picked up the equipment he’d stocked his cabinet with this morning. “Let’s get you back to the house. I’m sure you want a bath.”

The air whooshed from his lungs as if a sack of sand had been dropped on his chest. He turned away from Charli, bracing a hand on his desk.

His shoulders hunched.

He looked over at her, and she took a step back, as if she was suddenly afraid to touch him. “Charli.”

She wrapped her arms around herself, acting chilled despite the warm room. “That’s exactly what happened, isn’t it? Something reminded you of your wife.”

He forced himself to a stand, trying to regain control of his hammering heart. “I’m sorry. I’m okay.” He closed his eyes, took a breath. “It’s been happening a lot lately.”

Ever since you stepped into my life. He didn’t say it, but he knew it was Charli’s presence that was knocking the dust off the memories he thought he’d packed away. He had no idea why. Charli didn’t look like Rachel, and she damn sure didn’t act like her. His wife had been quiet, almost fragile, and innocent to a lot of the world. She’d been sheltered her whole childhood by a very strict family, and Grant had felt the instinct to protect her from the start of their relationship. A job he’d failed in the worst way possible.

Charli’s gaze shifted away from his, though she still held herself tightly. “I’m going to head back to the cabin, give you some space.”

He frowned, turning fully toward her. He was doing it again—putting Charli through an intense scene and then leaving her on a limb by herself while he dealt with own shit. If they gave out membership cards to doms, his should be fucking revoked. He closed the space between them. “Come ’ere.”

She lowered her arms but didn’t make any other move. He drew her against him and tucked her against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, feeling the tension she still held in her muscles. He was fucking things up with her. He could almost see the protective shell closing around her.

After the briefest of embraces, she pushed back, slipping from his arms and moving out of his reach. “I’m going to get going. I have an article I need to write.”

She graced him with a small smile but sadness hung in her eyes. “It was, and I’m not shutting you out. I just need a breather to get myself back together.”

Her eyes went a bit glassy, and she looked away. His heart lurched. “Charli.”

She turned her back to him, swiping at the tears she didn’t want him to see. “Ugh, I hate this. Am I going to cry every goddamned time? I’m supposed to be learning how to be more feminine, not how to turn into a crybaby.”

He stepped behind her, putting his hands on her shoulders and massaging. “It’s my fault. We should be sitting in that chair together right now, stroking each other, and coming down slowly after that scene. Instead, I’m acting like a fucking mental case.”

The tension in her muscles unfurled beneath his fingers. Her head sagged forward. “It’s okay. Grief is a bitch. Believe me, I know. I still can’t go into a hospital without wanting to vomit. Even the scent of strong cleaners can yank me back to the day my dad died. And don’t even try to talk to me on Father’s Day.”

He spun her to face him and swiped the tear tracks off her cheeks. How she could be so understanding was a wonder. She’d just put herself completely in his hands, taken risks she’d never taken before, and he’d brought another lover’s memory into the room between them. Most women would’ve been insulted and strode out the door or pulled the saccharin oh-you-poor-thing routine.

But instead Charli was looking at him with gentle eyes—not pity, but empathy. He’d gotten used to the pity thing once people knew about Rachel. He hated it, which is why he rarely told anyone anymore. But the way Charli stared up at him only made him want to hold her tighter. To be open with her.

She slid her hands up his still-bare chest to circle her arms around his neck. “You don’t have to apologize. And you don’t have to hide that part of yourself from me. I’d rather you be honest if you’re dealing with something than putting on a happy face and pretending everything is hunky-dory. I don’t need the unflappable master dom persona all the time. I can handle the human man beneath that.”

Her words pried under that shield of armor he spent so much time honing and hit him right in the sternum. He was usually the one giving lectures to subs about letting down their defenses and being open and honest. Now his sub was turning the tables on him and calling him out on his own bullshit.

He turned her and lifted her, catching her by surprise, then carried her over to the chair she’d left. He adjusted her in his lap, fitting her against his chest.

He ignored her protest, afraid that if he responded, he wouldn’t get what he needed to say out. He watched the second hand ticking on the clock over his desk, not really seeing it, but trying to decide how to start. How could he even explain? Finally, he began with the barest truth possible. “I loved her more than I ever thought was possible to love another person.”

Charli stilled against him.

He paused, the sadness threatening to grip his throat and steal the rest of the story. He hadn’t talked about Rachel aloud in so long. And certainly never to a woman he was with. But for some reason, he needed to get it out, to say it to Charli. He ran his hand up and down Charli’s back, drawing strength from her warmth, from her willingness to listen.

He took a deep breath. “When she got pregnant, I thought things couldn’t get any better. I remember wondering how I’d managed to get so lucky, to find the perfect life for me on the first try. And I thought I had it all figured out. She was naturally yielding, probably submissive if we’d been together long enough to figure out what that meant. She looked to me to be the man of the house, and I loved that, loved that sense of responsibility, that I was her rock, her protector. She’d had a pretty rough upbringing and I promised her I’d never let anyone hurt her again.”

Charli’s hand curled into his shirt, right over his now-pounding heart.

He shook his head, remembering the sick feeling when he’d heard Rachel’s cry for help.

Charli looked up at him, horror on her face.

Charli reached up and touched his face, tears filling her eyes. “Oh, Grant. I’m so sorry.”

He looked away. “One phone call to the police and everything could’ve been different. I should’ve never left her side that night.”

She looked as if she was going to push, to challenge him, but instead she simply nodded. “I understand. Thank you for telling me. I know you didn’t have to do that.”

He pushed her hair away from her face and smiled, trying to chase off the gut-wrenching memories he’d invited into the room. “You made me want to tell. Maybe you missed your calling as a domme, pulling all my dark secrets from me.”

She brushed at the tears she’d shed over his story and managed her own wavering attempt at a smile. “Maybe. Want to give me control of your whip, cowboy?”

He sniffed. “Hell, no. Your tongue is sharp enough. You’d be lethal with a weapon.”

She wiggled against his lap, obviously trying to distract him further.

He adored her in that moment. Any other woman would’ve wanted to talk about his feelings, would’ve wanted to coddle and there-there him. But not Charli. She’d recognized how much it had cost him to talk about Rachel, and she’d let him change topics without asking a bunch of questions or prodding for more. Somehow in a matter of minutes, she’d managed to lift his mood and ease the crushing pressure in his chest. Like it or not, this girl was getting to him.

And suddenly he wasn’t sure if that was such a bad thing.

TWENTY-TWO

Charli sat in the break room at work, lost in thought as she unwrapped her sandwich. Coming into work after two weeks with Grant almost felt like waking up from some crazy-hot dream and realizing reality was still there waiting for you. It had been good to get back in the routine of things, to see some of her coworkers, but she’d missed Grant and the country as soon as she’d crossed the line into downtown.

The realization was sobering. She and Grant had definitely made strides in dropping the pretenses of their arrangement. They both knew they weren’t doing this simply for training anymore and had agreed to another two weeks together. They enjoyed each other, had rocking chemistry and a taste for pushing boundaries. But every night after being together, she was painfully aware of the fact that he never kissed her, never stayed over at her cabin, and never invited her to his. This may not be training, but it was still a temporary dalliance. One that would be over soon.

Voices sounded to her left as her coworkers Pete and Steven pushed through the door of the break room. They were laughing and engrossed in conversation. Neither seemed to notice her sitting in the far corner of the room.

Steven barked a laugh. “Well, that is truly the only way to win. Though I didn’t notice the gaffe. I was too busy looking elsewhere. Apparently, it was very cold out there on the sidelines, looked like she was smuggling Tic Tacs.”

Pete grabbed a take-out container from the fridge. “Yeah, wouldn’t mind having a little taste of that candy. Just wish the bitch wouldn’t have stolen my promotion.”

Anger, white hot and instant, flashed through Charli. Her soda can, which she’d been squeezing since the first off-color comment, clinked against the table, drawing both men’s attention.

Pete sniffed and tossed his food in the microwave. “You don’t need to apologize to Beaumonde about a little guy talk. She’s one of us. Plus, I’m sure Stormy isn’t her favorite person either. Beaumonde wanted the job, too.”

Charli’s can buckled beneath her death grip. “So because she got the job, you have the right to act like a goddamned pig, Pete?”

Steven hung back, sipping his soda and shifting from foot to foot like he had to pee. But Pete, undeterred, grabbed his food and perched on the edge of one of the tables near Charli. “Oh, chill out, Beaumonde. Every guy in this office is talking about her tits. If she cared, she wouldn’t wear shirts that are two sizes too small. She likes the attention.”

Charli’s stomach turned. She pushed her sandwich away, muttering, “I think I’ve stepped back into 1970.”

Pete brought a bite of his stir-fry noodles to his mouth, eyeing her, his brows rising as he took in the full view for the first time. He choked down the bite. “Well, fuck me. Look at you. You’re taking a page from her book, aren’t you?”

She stood, too disgusted to tolerate another second of this conversation. “I’m outta here. The average IQ level of the room has plummeted to prehistoric levels.”

But he hopped off the table, sliding in front of her path. His gaze raked down her new silk blouse and the pencil skirt she’d worn as Grant’s assistant. “I haven’t seen you since your vacation. That’s what you were up to, wasn’t it? Redoing your image? You’re worried you’re going to get passed over again so you’re going for the hot-piece-of-ass angle.”

She shuddered, feeling as if she needed to bathe in disinfectant after his perusal, but straightened to her full height, reminding him she had an inch or two on him. “I suggest you move or you’ll be talking in soprano for your next audition.”

As if acting on its own accord, her fist reared back and landed an uppercut square into Pete’s stomach. He doubled over with an oof. She put her hand on his shoulder and bent next to his ear as he gasped for air. “You’re lucky I’m wearing a skirt because otherwise your nuts would be in your throat right now. You say another disgusting thing about me or any other woman in this office, and I’ll report you for sexual harassment.”

She shoved past him and leveled a look at Steven, who raised his palms in surrender. “I really am sorry.”

She simply shook her head and left the two of them in the break room. By the time she made it to the other end of the building, the nausea still hadn’t abated. Pete was a dick, but what he’d said had rung a bell of truth inside her. Wasn’t what she’d been doing these past two weeks exactly what he’d said? She was trying to mold herself into something that would please the guys who only wanted to ogle some girl’s boobs on television.

She sagged in her desk chair, letting her head fall back. Was this the kind of thing she was signing up for? She wanted the on-air position more than anything, and knew her approach had needed some refining, but pretending to be something she wasn’t suddenly felt way too similar to her failed pageant days. Smile a little brighter, Charli. Flutter your lashes. Speak softly to the judges. Watch how your sister does it.

Without thinking too much about it, she followed her first instinct. She picked up her office phone and dialed Grant’s number.

After two rings, she almost chickened out, but then heard the click.

She looked behind her to make sure no one was standing near her cubicle and lowered her voice. “I punched a guy in the stomach already. How’s yours?”

Grant coughed. “You what?”

Somehow Grant managed to pronounce the h in what, his accent getting thicker when caught off guard. The simple little quirk managed to make the knot in her belly loosen a bit. “The guy I’m competing with for the job called me a hot piece of ass and then wouldn’t get out of my way.”

The chair squeaked again. “That motherfucker. I’m on the way over.”

He was quiet for a moment. “I see. And what do you think you’re morphing yourself into, Charli?”

She twirled a lock of hair around her finger over and over again, a childhood habit that seemed to reappear when she was stressed. “I don’t know. The sweet, pretty girl who acts submissive and yielding around guys. I’m becoming that girl my mother always wanted me to be.”

Grant sniffed. “Darlin’, you haven’t changed into anything. You are sweet and you are pretty. Those things were there from the start even if you or your mother didn’t realize it. As for the submissive part, the fact that you punched that guy today shows that you’re still all tomboy. None of the training we’ve done has taken any of that from you.”

She stared at her screen saver, contemplating his words. “So all this time, you’ve known training wasn’t working?”

She bit her lip, holding back a smile. “Is that right?”

She leaned forward in her chair, shielding her face with her hair in case anyone walked by. “Maybe you should take care of that.”

She crossed her legs beneath her desk, trying to fend off the dampness gathering there. “Too bad I already had lunch.”

A thick file folder landed on her desk with a loud smack. She jumped, so engrossed in the conversation, she hadn’t even heard anyone approach. “Hold on a sec.”

She spun her chair to find Pete glaring at her. “Trey wants you to work on the Valley High School story. The information is in there.”

He tilted his head, his gaze darting toward the phone and then down to her shirt. She glanced down. Of course, her nipples were standing at attention against the soft fabric of her shirt. He dragged his lips together, as if smoothing invisible Chap Stick. “He wants the story by the end of the week.”

She feared he was going to linger, confront her about slugging him. But he turned around and was gone. She released the breath she’d been holding. Annoying ass. She put the phone back to her ear. “Sorry. Work stuff. Where were we?”

A soft groan slipped from him. “How much privacy does your office allow? Any security cameras?”

She peeked over her shoulder. “I’m in a back corner cubicle and my neighbor is at lunch. No cameras. The office is loud, but I have no door.”

She rolled the lipstick tube between her fingers, so tempted, the sound of Grant’s breath in her ears making her sex throb. Fuck it. With one last check over her shoulder, she quickly put her hand beneath her skirt and tucked the vibrator into her panties to hold it in place.

She gasped softly at the sensation, the vibration nestling right against her clit. “You’re a bad, bad man.”

She wet her lips, wishing she was there to lick that salty taste off him. Her pussy clenched and she squeezed her thighs together, aligning the vibe to the sweet spot on the side of her clit. Sensation pinged through her, orgasm rushing toward her sharp and fast. “Grant.”

She closed her eyes, breathing fast, imagining his come spilling over his fist, and rode the wave of her orgasm. It took everything in her to not make a sound, to not call out his name.

Another flood of moisture coated the vibrator and soaked her panties as the last shudder went through her and she drifted down from the orgasm.

With lightning-fast movement, she pulled the vibrator from her panties, turned it off, and dropped it in her open purse. She clutched the phone to her ear, feeling a bit light-headed. “Whoa.”

There was a click on the phone, and she thought she’d lost him, but then she heard him let out a satisfied sigh. “Ditto. Thanks for that, freckles.”

She could feel his grin through the line. “Now get back to work, slacker. I’ll pick you up at six, and I guarantee that won’t be your last orgasm of the day.”

With that, he hung up.

And as she walked to the restroom to get cleaned up, she came to terms with one foundation-rattling fact. She was addicted. Downright, no denying it, addicted. No matter how often she saw Grant, she couldn’t get enough of him.

And that scared the ever-loving shit out of her.

Because this thing had an expiration date. And it was thundering toward them both.

TWENTY-THREE

Charli stepped out of the steam-filled bathroom, feeling refreshed after her long walk on the grounds this afternoon. In the heat of the shower, her muscles had loosened, but the remnants of last night’s session with Grant remained. Phone sex had definitely only been the appetizer in his plans yesterday.

She unwrapped her towel and turned her back to the full-length mirror in the bedroom, peering over her shoulder. He’d used a whip on her for the first time. The angry welts had mostly faded, but a few bruises now colored her skin. For some odd reason, seeing those marks made her feel lighter, buoyant. She glanced down at her wrists and rubbed the faint pink rope burns, the brush of pain tightening something low in her belly.

The empty room had no response. With a sigh, she tucked the towel around herself again and headed toward the boxes on the bed. Grant had sent them over after she’d gotten home from work today with a terse note. Charlotte, I’m taking you out to a business function tonight. This is what you will wear for me. No additions or subtractions. Wear your hair down. Be at my cabin by six. Grant.

She shook her head but couldn’t help smiling. He’d told her she was going as his date, not as his submissive. This was apparently something for the winery. But even on a supposedly “normal” date, the man couldn’t help but be bossy.

She opened the first box and unfolded the tissue, finding a gorgeous plum-colored wrap dress. Wow, that hadn’t been what she expected. She thought for sure he’d put her in something short and tight. But this had luxury and class written all over it.

She peeked into the smaller boxes. One had a lacy bra and panty set in the same shade of purple as the dress. She held up the thong. He’d said he’d let her wear underwear, but she wasn’t sure if this little bit of material quite counted. Cheater.

The other small box had a pendant necklace and two cuff bracelets that would perfectly cover the marks on her wrists. The final package was a pair of buttery soft, knee-high leather boots. “Ooh.”

A Post-it note was stuck to the left boot. These should be a little more comfortable than those heels I always torture you with.

She rubbed her thumb across Grant’s neat handwriting, warmth whispering through her. Her cowboy had thought of everything.

She groaned. No. Not her cowboy. She had to stop thinking of him like that.

No doubt this wasn’t the first or last time he bought an outfit for a woman to wear for him. This was all part of the game. She’d agreed to play sub to him for the month, and this was simply a part of that.

She let her towel fall to the floor and slipped on the panties and bra. If Grant ever decided to stay with someone longer than a month, did that mean he’d pick out her clothes every day? What if the woman wanted to wear jeans sometimes but he wanted her to wear a skirt? How would that work?

She frowned at her reflection in the mirror. The thought of having Grant take care of her like that was simultaneously appealing and appalling. Knowing that she’d be wearing only things he’d selected for her tonight gave her a little thrill. It felt intimate and personal, having him choose things he thought would complement her body and coloring.

But someone doing that for her every day? She’d freaking lose it. Right?

She tilted her head back, staring at the ceiling. She needed to reel herself in. Over the last few weeks she’d had moments where she’d wondered what it’d be like to really be Grant’s, secretly imagining how it would be to push things further than just a short experiment. But even if she was discovering that she had a submissive streak, Grant didn’t want anything more than a month. He was already in a long-term relationship—with a memory. There was no room in his life for someone else.

And hell, it wasn’t like Charli was Ms. ’Til-Death-Do-Us-Part either. Getting attached to someone was dangerous enough. She’d learned that the day her mother and sister had walked out of her life. But how much more intense would that loss be if she were in a D/s relationship and her dom left her? That kind of lifestyle and level of care could become addictive quickly, and having it end would surely make someone feel adrift.

She shuddered. She could never let herself become that dependent on anyone. Already Grant was becoming too important a part of her day.

Charli shrugged on the dress, wrapping it around herself and coming to a decision. Tonight, she’d be Grant’s date, get some social practice in, but then they were going to have to talk about their situation afterward. She’d left herself too open with Grant. She’d wanted to help him see past his grief over his wife, but in the process, she’d forgotten to protect her own heart. The fact that she was even imagining the idea of giving herself to him for a moment proved she was sinking too deep, getting caught in the quicksand.

She took the cuff bracelets from their box and slipped them over her wrists, ignoring the hot shiver that went through her, and then bent to grab the necklace. But the sound of her cell phone vibrating on the bedside table had her veering in another direction.

Charli reached for the phone, the caller ID flashing unknown number. “Hello?”

There was a long pause, and Charli thought the call had dropped, but then the man cleared his throat. “This is Rodney Wilson. I’m sorry about the last time we met. I’m ready to talk now. For real.”

Charli lost her ability to speak for a moment. And the first words that jumped to her lips were holy shit, but luckily she managed to choke those down. She gripped the bedpost, the reporter inside her jumping up and twirling. “On the record?”

The warning sent a dart of anxiety down her spine, but not enough to outweigh the excitement of knowing she was finally going to get the truth and break this story. “Thank you. I’ll be careful.”

She ended the call and did a little spin for real this time, her dress swirling around her. This was it. Not only would she be able to expose some nasty cheaters, but she’d prove that she was capable of handling a big story.

With a smile on her face, she hurried to the bathroom to finish getting ready. A few days and she’d be able to go back to her normal life. No more worrying about someone trying to hurt her. No more hiding out.

And no more Grant.

Her smile faltered in the mirror.

Grant stared down at the scalloped-edge invitation he’d discovered in his mailbox. He read the words again, each sentence settling in his gut like heavy boulders.

Georgia Eleanor Waters and Barry Sparks request your presence at their wedding…

Grant sank onto one of his barstools, the combating emotions too much to process standing up. His mom was getting married again? To someone who wasn’t his father. The notion seemed too preposterous to even comprehend.

And who the fuck was this Barry guy?

Did he treat his mother well? Did he make her happy? Did he have a job or was he just after the family’s fortune?

You wouldn’t know, asshole, his conscience whispered at him. You never go home.

Grant’s front door swung open, banging the wall and startling him from his thoughts. “What the hell?”

Charli burst through the doorway like a cyclone, all smiles and flushed cheeks. “Oops, sorry, the wind took the door right from my hand.”

She pranced inside and pushed the door closed behind her, her red mane whipping around in one final gust. She spun back around, a wide grin still on her face.

Fuck, she was gorgeous. The outfit he’d chosen for her looked even better hugging her body than he’d imagined. And knowing what she had on underneath had him almost forgetting what he was so upset about a moment before. He glanced at the clock over the fireplace. “You’re early, freckles.”

Her excitement was contagious, and Grant couldn’t help but return her smile. He tossed the invitation and accompanying note onto the counter and pulled her close when she reached him, caging her between his thighs. “That’s awesome, darlin’. Congratulations.”

Without warning, she wrapped her arms around him in an enthusiastic hug, almost knocking him off the stool. He closed his eyes, absorbing the scent of her shampoo and the feel of her body against his, a thread of regret knitting through him. If she landed her story, this would be one of the last nights she’d be here with him.

She pulled back from the hug but remained standing between his knees. “So I thought maybe tonight, I should stay at my house instead of coming back here. I have to meet him early, and it doesn’t make sense to come all the way back out this way.”

Grant frowned. “I’m not leaving you unprotected, Charlotte. Even for one night.”

The little shiver she gave at the use of her full name, her sub name, brought Grant more pleasure than it should’ve. She shrugged. “So stay there with me.”

The suggestion was a simple one on its surface, but the idea of sleeping next to her in her own house had tension gathering in his shoulders. He didn’t sleep with anyone. And his nightmares wouldn’t care if he was alone or otherwise. They’d come anyway. He rolled his shoulders, trying to loosen some of the tightness. There was always the couch, and he could pull an all-nighter, keeping guard. God knows he’d pulled enough of them in his military career.

Her nipples hardened behind the soft material of her dress, her body instantly responding to his suggestions. She poked his chest. “Hey, you said this was going to be a normal date. Strictly business.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re incorrigible.”

Reluctantly, he released her. “I need to get changed and pack an overnight back. Feel free to pour yourself a glass of wine. I shouldn’t be long.”

Before he realized what he was doing, he leaned over and kissed her on the corner of her mouth. Just a quick I’ll-see-you-in-a-minute peck, but it was the kind of comfortable kiss lovers share when they’ve been together forever.

He froze for a second afterward, and Charli blinked at him, obviously surprised.

Maybe it was for the best that Charli was about to walk out of his life. He liked his world steady and solid beneath his feet. And right now he was balancing on goddamned Jell-O.

TWENTY-FOUR

Charli fiddled with one of her bracelets as Grant drove along the two-lane highway. They’d made small talk about her story for a few minutes, but as dusk had settled in around them, cocooning the truck’s cab in hazy blue-and-orange light, Grant had gone silent. Clearly, that little peck he’d given her had sent him retreating into his cave.

She shifted in her seat, the quiet becoming suffocating. It was a long ride into the city. Broody silence was only going to make her more nervous about the event tonight. She scrounged her mind for some neutral topic. “So who’s getting married?”

He gave her a sidelong glance. “What are you talking about?”

That little muscle in his jaw twitched. “My mother, apparently.”

He kept his eyes on the road, but his grip on the steering wheel seemed to tighten. “My dad passed away a few years back.”

He shrugged, though the move seemed stiff. “It is what it is. The truth is, I should’ve been there. I should’ve been home running the farm so he could retire. But I was too caught up in my own shit to take on the responsibility.”

She frowned. “You were serving our country. That isn’t exactly shirking responsibility.”

He glanced over at her, then back at the road. “Yeah, that’s what I told myself, too. It sounds so brave and noble. But all I was doing was running—running fast and far. I let my family down.”

Charli could tell he wanted to close the subject, but it took all she could not to press more. His guilt was so palpable it was like cigarette smoke filling the cab of the truck—acrid and invasive. She stared out the window, watching the sun sink below the horizon and the city lights come into view in the distance. “Are you going to the wedding?”

He groaned. “Are you always this relentless, freckles?”

He put the blinker on and merged onto the interstate. “Because I don’t go home.”

The stark statement was like a door slamming shut and locking. You’re not welcome here, Ms. Beaumonde. She sighed and leaned against the seat, closing her eyes. It was going to be a long few miles before they made it to their destination.

After leaving the truck with a valet, Grant took Charli’s elbow and gathered her close to his side. Somehow even in a tailored suit, he smelled like the country air. She had the urge to burrow against him and absorb his scent.

He nodded to a path that looped around the side of the events hall. “Looks like the party is out back. They like to have everything in the gardens when it’s warm enough.”

She nodded, her nerves starting to creep in. “Okay.”

She laughed. “I’ll do my best. Though it feels a little awkward posing as your date just so we can train.”

He turned her toward him, cupping her shoulders and pinning her with his gaze. “Listen to me. You’re not posing as anything. And you’re not here as my submissive. You’re my date—my smoking-hot, makes-me-hard-just-looking-at-her date. I wouldn’t want anyone else by my side tonight.”

Her neck went warm, and she glanced over at another couple strolling a few feet away, hoping they couldn’t overhear what Grant was saying.

She bit her lip, heat gathering much, much lower than her face now. Her panties went damp against her skin. “Yes, sir.”

She put her hand to her mouth, surprised the response had rolled off her tongue so instinctively.

His eyes went almost black in the moonlight, and he smiled. “Oh, darlin’, now you’ve really got me tempted to take you back to the truck and forget this whole plan.” His arms slid from her shoulders down along her arms. “But I’m a man of my word, so let’s get moving before my baser instincts veto my nobler ones.”

She took a deep breath and nodded, trying to quell the surge of need rising in her. How was it that with a few simple words, this man could turn her sideways? She had every intention of telling Grant tonight that things were getting too intense, that they needed to back off. But right now, she was having an exceptionally hard time accepting that he’d never touch her that way again, never command her, that she would never visit that blissful place of surrender he’d brought her to.

Grant’s hand closed around hers, and he turned them toward the path. “Come on, Charlotte. Let’s go play nice.”

Grant could barely concentrate on the conversations as he circulated around the gardens, introducing Charli and making small talk with friends and colleagues. He’d offered her a stiff drink when they’d first come in to help soften her nerves, and since then, she’d become downright effervescent. The girl could speak on almost any topic. Talking sports was her obvious favorite, but she was well schooled on current events, politics, and the city. The people he introduced her to seemed captivated and kept giving Grant approving looks. He’d even gotten a shoulder pat from the stodgy, retired CEO of a local restaurant chain and a whispered, “That one’s a keeper, son.”

The only time Charli had faltered was when a senator’s wife asked her who had designed her dress. After a moment’s hesitation, Charli had smiled and said she had no idea, that it was a gift and that she was fashion-challenged. The woman had laughed and confessed she’d found her own outfit at a consignment store.

As the night went on, Grant became more and more perplexed as to why Charli was having any issues at her job. Sure, he could tell that she was a little more deliberate in the heeled boots, a little more aware of the way her dress moved when she sat. But other than that, he didn’t see any of the awkward tomboy image she was so worried she had. He’d been training her on a few things but knew that he hadn’t provided some metamorphosis.

So why had she gotten passed over for that job? Did she panic on camera and lose the girl-next-door charm that seemed to glow from her tonight? Were her bosses unable to see the potential beneath her oversized clothes and clean-scrubbed face? Surely her company had makeup and wardrobe people. They had to see that Charli could be gussied up. No one on television wakes up looking like they do on camera.

Charli turned and smiled at him when the couple they’d been chatting with excused themselves. “You’re going for the strong and silent image tonight, cowboy?”

He drained the last of his wine and set it on a nearby table. “Sorry, freckles. I thought I’d let you take center stage tonight. You’re far more charming than I am.”

She snorted. “Yeah and pigs have wings. All this chatting is exhausting, though.”

She glanced over at him with a conspiratorial smile as they made their way from the crowded lawn into a more secluded part of the property. “Breaking the rules, huh? You sure you’re not just trying to get a girl alone, Mr. Waters? I’ve heard you’ve got a bit of a reputation.”

She rewarded him with a little squeal and a flash of lust in her eyes. She picked up her pace and got a few steps out of his reach, peeking back over her shoulder at him.

The eyebrow arch and head tilt she gave him were pure mischief. Before he could blink, she took off toward the water glimmering in the distance.

He launched into pursuit. “Oh, now that’s your ass, freckles.”

His dress shoes were slippery against the grass, but Charli wasn’t exactly wearing sneakers either. So before long he was only a stride or two behind her. She dared a glance behind her, her smile wide, before she unexpectedly veered right and left him skidding past her. He grabbed onto a tree to slow himself, then changed direction.

Charli ran along the edge of the pond, but her steps faltered when she saw the thicket of trees on the far side of it. Grant grinned in triumph. She only had two choices—surrender or risk traipsing through the wilds surrounding the property in the dark. Before she could act, Grant reached her, capturing her by the waist and spinning her off her feet.

She shrieked and he dragged her to the ground, pulling her down on top of him in the grass. “Gotcha now, darlin’.”

He chuckled and slid his hands from her waist down to the curve of her butt, fitting her pelvis against his thickening erection. “Yes, but you make such a sexy little captive.”

She groaned. “Down, boy. We’re at a fancy-schmancy party, remember?”

She made a soft sound and closed her eyes as he touched her. “I may or may not have entertained the idea before. How do you feel about pirate outfits?”

He laughed. “Not a chance.” But maybe he’d have to play this cat-and-mouse game with her at The Ranch, where no one would blink an eye if he caught her, stripped her down, and tied her to a tree.

But right now, he didn’t have the patience to wait until they were back at his place. He needed her now. Right here.

He traced his fingernail against her slit, and she quivered hard against him. “So responsive. You’re protesting, but your body certainly appreciates that we’re out in the open. I think you may have a bit of an exhibitionist streak in you, Ms. Beaumonde.”

She dragged her teeth over her bottom lip, but no additional protest came.

He gave her an unapologetic smile. “Sit up, sweet Charlotte, lift your skirt, and straddle me. Your only instruction is to not make a sound when you come for me. You understand?”

Even in the moonlight he could see her pupils go wide with desire, the risk of discovery clearly making her anxious but feeding her need for playing at the edge at the same time. “Grant, I don’t know…”

But even as she made her lackluster objection, she was lifting off him, following his directive whether she knew it or not.

Her breathing became more shallow with each inch of exposure. “What if I can’t be quiet?”

Her eyes went round, and her little hum of fear went straight to his cock, nourishing that dark desire inside him. He loved pushing her boundaries, making such a strong, put-together woman quiver.

She widened her legs, straddling him fully. The sight of her polished fingernails pulling aside the lace and revealing the pink, swollen lips of her sex was enough to have him let loose his own groan. “You have the sexiest fucking cunt I’ve ever seen. It’s taking everything I have not to put you on your back and lick and nibble every tender bit of it.”

Her cheeks darkened in the moonlight, but her eyes were pure want.

He propped himself on his elbow and took his cock in his hand, positioning himself at her entrance. Damn, he was glad he’d decided to forgo condoms with her. Being bare inside Charli was the most decadent treat he could imagine. Her slick heat enveloped the sensitive head and sent a shock of pleasure marching up his spine. “Ah, baby, yes. You feel so good.”

She lowered herself at a tortuous pace—teasing him but also teasing herself. He could feel her inner muscles clenching around him, trying to draw him deeper. He was glad he was the one lying down. His knees would’ve given out otherwise.

She sank down, burying him deep inside her heat, and he had to bite his own tongue not to moan. But the rapt expression on her face was worth it. She was no longer worrying that she was fucking him where someone could discover them. All she was focused on was the pleasure of it, her need for release, and her desire to please him. She’d gone into subspace without any restraints or pain play. She was all his right now. And he fucking loved it.

She raised herself and plunged back down, slowly at first and then faster, until she was riding him with a rhythm that had his own mind going fuzzy. The sound of skin meeting skin filtered through the night, and the intoxicating scent of sex enveloped them, mixing with the smell of the freshly cut grass. Grant’s free hand curled into the sod as every nerve in his body seemed to vibrate.

Rarely did he give a woman free rein like this. He was so used to controlling the speed and execution of every little aspect of sex. But Charli was sending him down a track with no brakes, and all he wanted to do was enjoy the ride. No soft, romantic lovemaking for his girl. She wanted it hard and fast tonight, and he was happy to oblige her. He worked his fingers against her folds, teasing and pinching, then stroked her clit until he could feel she was on the brink.

She fell forward, bracing her hands against his chest, and canted her hips even faster, fucking him with a desperation that turned his blood into rocket fuel. Her sharp pants hit his cheeks, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away from her face—parted lips, closed eyes, the gorgeous glow of exertion. He loved how she let the passion engulf her.

He pressed his fingers along the sides of her clit, and her body tightened around him, her thighs squeezing his hips and her pussy contracting around his cock.

Liquid bliss shot through his veins and straight downward, his release hurtling forward. “Fuck, baby.”

Orgasm crashed over both of them, pulling them under and drowning them. He grabbed her hips, driving deep, and stifling a moan as his release pulsed inside her. Her nails dug into his shirt, but the only sounds that escaped her were these little sharp catches in the back of her throat. It was the sexiest damn sound he’d ever heard.

When both their sounds of restraint had quieted, she finally opened her eyes and melted against him, pressing her cheek to her shoulder. “That was way more fun than an awards presentation.”

He hurriedly tucked himself back into his pants and pulled up his zipper. “I think I hear someone.”

Panic lit her features. “Shit.”

She scrambled to her feet, straightening her dress and checking to make sure she was covered. But there was no way she’d be able to hide that flushed, post-orgasm glow. He stood and dusted the grass off his backside. “Just take a deep breath. Someone’s coming, but I doubt anyone saw us.”

Soon, two men walked out from the bank of trees a few yards away and headed toward the edge of the pond. They were deep in conversation and didn’t seem to even notice they weren’t alone. Grant grabbed Charli’s hand. “Come on. Let’s pretend like we got lost and make our way back to the party.”

She nodded and clasped his hand, but before they took a handful of steps, one of the men glanced over and saw them. The conversation halted.

Grant raised a palm. “No problem. We got a little off course. We’re heading back now.”

The white-haired man headed their way, and his companion turned and followed. As the two men approached, Charli went stiff next to Grant. She pulled her hand from his. “Crap. What the hell is he doing here?”

Grant was about to ask her what she meant, but then the elderly man’s wide-shouldered friend squinted at Charli. “Beaumonde?”

Charli sighed. “Hi, Trey.”

Trey. Grant searched his brain, trying to remember if Charli had ever mentioned that name.

The guy looked Charli up and down with evaluating eyes. “Wow, I barely recognized you all dressed up. What are you doing here?”

Grant gritted his teeth, the guy’s tone and perusal of Charli pushing Grant’s mine buttons.

Charli shifted from one boot to the other, then looked over to Grant as if deciding whether to come up with a story or tell the truth. “I’m on a date. This is Grant Waters. Grant, this is Trey Winger, my boss.”

Her boss. And ex-lover. The guy who told her she wasn’t good enough for an on-air position. Grant stuck out his hand and shook Trey’s maybe a bit too firmly. Trey looked between Grant and Charli, openly curious.

Trey shrugged and put a hand on the older man’s shoulder. “Mr. Brinkley invited me. He sits on the station’s board of directors and owns this property.”

More introductions were exchanged, and Grant could sense Charli’s professional image rising like the tide. Her posture turned straighter, her voice firmer, despite the fact that her heart had to be hammering in her chest. Hell, his own knees were still a little weak from their interlude. Seeing Charli flip that switch so easily gave him a ridiculous sense of pride. His girl had her shit together.

His girl. Damn, he needed to tame those thoughts.

He grabbed her hand again anyway, ignoring the satisfaction he felt when she grabbed back.

Mine, his mind whispered.

TWENTY-FIVE

She shrugged, thinking back to the way Trey had looked at her when he’d realized who she was. That wow reaction had been more than a little satisfying, had made every wax and pluck of her makeover worth it. Nothing like a great how-ya-like-me-now moment. “I really don’t think so. Trey’s not smooth enough to cover up his reactions that well. He wouldn’t have said anything, but he would’ve shown some sign.”

She looked over at him, frowning. “It’s going to be a huge story. Of course, he’d be interested in going.”

Grant’s gaze slid toward her, then back to the road. “You should know that boss of yours is still interested in you.”

She snorted. “Oh, please. First of all, this is the guy who told me I wasn’t pretty enough for TV. Second of all, I’ve been down that road with him and have no interest in going back. He knows that.”

Plus, how could she go back to someone like Trey after experiencing what she had with Grant? It’d be like going back to canned ham after you’ve had Kobe beef.

She laughed. “Ooh, jealousy. Looks kind of pretty on you, cowboy.”

He sniffed.

Grant made the turn onto her street and stared out at the road. “You know you could always stay at The Ranch and tell Trey and the rest of the guys who turned you down for the position to go fuck themselves. I could cover your expenses until you find something else.”

His words sounded off the cuff, but the shift in his posture said otherwise. She stared at him, the suggestion stalling her ability to respond for a second. Was he seriously suggesting that she stay? The thought of having something longer term with him tugged at a longing deep within her bones, but she knew that it would eventually end badly. After all, he’d said she could stay at The Ranch, not with him. She had no interest in being some woman he kept around for occasional entertainment.

He shot her a come-on-now look. “You know that’s not what I was suggesting. I just hate to see you working so hard for people who don’t appreciate your skills. You’re busting your ass, and they don’t even pay you enough to afford a safe car to drive. I have the means to help you if you needed time to find something different.”

She didn’t have an answer to that.

His truck rumbled up her driveway, and she couldn’t help the little pang of sadness that hit her seeing her house so dark and lonely. Her home wasn’t much, but it’d been her first real place after moving out of her family’s house, so it always gave her a sense of pride knowing she’d gotten it on her own. And though Grant’s guest cabin was great, nothing could replace having your own things around you.

Grant shut off the engine. “Give me your keys. I want to check inside and make sure everything’s okay before you go in.”

He held out his palm. “Better to be safe, freckles.”

She sighed and dropped her keys in his hand. He reached past her and unlocked the glove compartment, removing his handgun. Her first instinct was to protest, but if anything was wrong in the house, she’d want Grant to have protection. “Be careful, okay? I’d rather not end the evening with a dead date.”

He smirked. “Aww, nice to know you care, freckles.”

She rolled her eyes, but the move was forced. The truth was she did care. Too much probably. And the more they spent time together, the more her heart was digging roots into the slippery slope they were both residing on.

He disappeared inside the house for a few long minutes, no doubt examining every nook and cranny, then finally stepped back onto the porch. He looked so big standing there in front of her dainty white house—like the big, bad wolf ready to blow it down. He leaned against a post and sent her a smile that promised sin.

Her stomach did a little flip. She pushed open the truck’s door and climbed out. “Everything looks all right?”

She took the two steps up to the porch. “You didn’t get enough by the pond, cowboy?”

He locked an arm around her waist and pulled her against him. “Not nearly. Never enough with you.”

Her skin went goose bumpy as her chest pressed against his. “You know I have an early morning ahead of me?”

She knew she should stop him, knew that every time she let him touch her she became more ensnared in her fucked-up feelings for him, but she couldn’t resist the siren song and the rush of having his hands against her again. “Why do I never want to?”

He shoved the dress off her and kissed and licked his way up her neck. “You’re always so edible, Charlotte. I can taste the night air on you.”

She tilted her head back, and he traced his tongue along the hollow of her throat. Like a burning match to wax, her insides went warm and liquid in an instant. “God, yes.”

He chuckled against her jaw. “I’m not the only insatiable one here. Go to your bedroom and stand by the foot of the bed to wait for me. I want to take my time with you.”

He released her and she made her way through her small living room to her bedroom. The room was bathed in the warm glow of her bedside lamp, the scene so familiar but yet foreign. Never before had she walked into her room and viewed it through someone else’s eyes. The thick posts of her bed now seemed a sensual choice, sinister in the best way possible. Her sheets—a high-thread-count gift to herself—now beckoned with promises of downy softness against bare skin. And oh, the things Grant could do with the small collection of vibrators she kept hidden in her panty drawer.

She left her undergarments on and faced the bed, keeping her back to the door, but her eyes fixed on the mirror above her dresser. Her heart hammered as she listened to Grant’s heavy footsteps make their way around her home. She had no idea what he was doing but had no doubt he had more in store for her than a quick romp before bed.

A shadow crossed over the mirror and she sucked in a breath as Grant’s wide frame filled her doorway. “What a pretty view.”

He stepped behind her, his body heat radiating onto her skin, and ran a gentle hand over the curve of her ass, then traced along the crease. The pad of his finger pressed against her back entrance through the thin fabric of her panties. She shivered, the still-foreign sensation stoking the flames of need inside her.

She wet her lips, catching her own unsure eyes in the mirror’s reflection even as the decadent sensation of him teasing her there had a new rush of moisture slicking her panties. She’d enjoyed the hell out of the plugs he’d used on her, but he was so much bigger than that. There was no way it wouldn’t hurt. “I’m a little scared.”

He kissed the slope of her shoulder, his teeth grazing her skin. “I could make you feel better and say it doesn’t, but I’d be lying.”

She closed her eyes, trying to reel in her runaway nerves. He was a sadist and had never apologized for that. Of course he didn’t mind that she was scared.

Her leg muscles seemed to liquefy as he worked another finger inside her. She bowed forward, her palms hitting the mattress, saving her from falling face-first into the comforter. His words were like the sharp, quick stings of his riding crop—the accuracy behind them exposing all her vulnerable places.

She stiffened, the assumption—though screaming with truth in her ears—all too close to what she’d been dealing with all her life. You’re not like normal girls. “So, what, I’m not worth the wining, dining, and romancing?”

His free hand came down hard on her ass, the sharp smack sending a jolt through her veins and a cry from her lips. “Don’t do that, Charlotte. Don’t turn my words around and use them as weapons.”

Her fingers curled into the comforter, rebellion welling up inside her.

He pulled away, removing all contact. “Before you speak, I suggest you think long and hard about what you want. I’ll give you one chance to make a request tonight. If that’s candles and opera music, I’ll make it happen. But whatever you request better be what you really want, not what you wish you wanted.”

She stared at the tone-on-tone stripes of her comforter, her breathing rapid with a confusing combination of anger and desire. Grant’s hard command had tempted a knee-jerk response, but she’d bit down on her tongue to keep it in. When she pictured the gentle, romantic evening he was offering her, it left her cold. Her other lovers had tried that route, and it’d never affected her the way she’d hoped it would. She craved genuine emotion with Grant, but not in that Hallmark-commercial kind of way, and definitely not in the bedroom.

The breath filling her lungs turned hot as reality coursed through her. Even if she wanted to be that sweet, flowers-and-hearts girl, she wasn’t wired that way. And neither was he. She could either keep trying to convince herself she could be or accept what was. She shifted her weight from foot to foot. What she needed—wanted—danced on her lips, the forbidden desire they’d playfully mentioned earlier tonight hovering in the silence between them. Capture. Force.

How often in the last few weeks had she wondered what it would be like to see Grant really let go? Despite everything they’d done together, she always sensed he was being careful with her, like he was afraid to show her too much darkness. But she craved that from him.

She pushed herself upright, her resolve calming the disjointed emotions battling inside of her. She met his stoic gaze in the mirror, her own expression reflecting the confidence in her decision, but also the underlying trepidation inherent in it. She turned around to face him.

She swallowed past the kink in her vocal cords. “I want you to make me do it.”