Seven

SEVEN

Charli pulled her hair into a twist and kicked up the volume on the small radio in the cabin’s bedroom. This place was too damn quiet, especially at night. And who would want to stay anywhere without a television?

Serenity made her antsy. She’d had better luck relaxing by riding roller coasters or learning to kickbox. Things that turned the adrenaline up and her mind off. Things like getting pressed up against a shower wall by a fully clothed cowboy and riding his hand until her brain exploded.

That had been a pretty big adrenaline rush—well, up until she’d realized she was the only one into it. That the mere thought of kissing her had made him recoil.

God, what had she been thinking? Talk about making a fool of herself. Nothing like coming across as desperate and sex-starved.

And drunk.

She couldn’t forget that part.

Nice job, Beaumonde.

She sat on the edge of the bed, trying to shake off the memory, and booted up her iPad so that she could catch SportsCenter and her own station’s end-of-the-day wrap-up show. The sports radio was not cutting it. And after her long day of purposely avoiding Grant and then an evening chasing down a lead that didn’t pan out, she was ready to relax, watch the night’s highlights, and get to bed. Plus, the network was going to introduce Blondie as the new sidelines reporter on-air and for some reason, Charli felt compelled to watch it.

The screen came to life, but when she tried to access the Internet, she got the no signal message. “You’ve got to be freaking kidding me.”

When she’d done her morning check-in text with Grant, he’d let her know that he’d moved the router in his own cabin, which should give her access to his connection, but apparently it hadn’t done the trick. She wasn’t quite ready to chat with Grant in real time. She needed the mortification of the previous night to settle a little longer before she crossed that bridge, so she sent him another text. But after a few minutes, she hadn’t heard back. She stared down at the absent signal icon on the tablet. “Damn.”

She frowned at the screen. She should go to bed. What good would seeing it be anyway? Why torture herself? But the urge to have that closure was too strong. With a sigh, she got up and toed on her tennis shoes. If Grant wasn’t answering a text, he probably wasn’t home. She could probably sneak over to his yard and borrow his signal long enough to see the show.

Not ready to repeat the debacle from last night, she made sure she had a flashlight before heading out. The walk over wasn’t very long and if she stayed on the gravel path this time, she’d be fine. Plus, being sober always helped. She grabbed her backpack and slipped the tablet inside, then locked up behind her. Grant had told her the grounds were secure and locking doors wasn’t necessary, but frankly, at night the place looked ripe for a Friday the 13th installment. And she’d prefer to skip the ax murdering tonight.

She walked carefully along the path, making sure to keep an ear out for any animal sounds and holding the light out in front of her. But besides a rabbit that darted in front of her and inspired a near heart attack, she was alone on her trip over. Grant’s porch light came into view and she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. His truck was there.

She paused, suddenly panicked that he’d discover her out there. What if he wanted to discuss last night? Or had a woman over or something? She didn’t know anything about his life really. Hell, maybe he had a girlfriend and that’s why he’d left last night. She sniffed. Yeah, keep telling yourself that, Charli. She’d known exactly why he’d turned away. And it wasn’t because of another woman. The way he’d reacted hadn’t left much room for interpretation. It was simple. He was appalled by the thought of kissing her.

It was like high school and college all over again. She was the girl who was okay to fool around with on the sly for a fun night here or there, but not the girl guys actually wanted to date. She was a buddy fuck. Always had been and seemed always would be. She scanned the area for a somewhat safe place to sit and spotted a simple wooden bench beneath one of the large oaks at the edge of his yard. It was shrouded in the shadows and close enough to probably get the signal she’d come for in the first place, but far enough that Grant wouldn’t see her if he happened to step outside. She headed over, parked on the bench, and pulled out her tablet.

The signal wasn’t perfect, but it was there. She cued up her station’s Internet feed and selected the most recent show. Most of today’s scores she’d already heard, so she skimmed through that and made it to the part she’d been both looking for and dreading. The nightly anchors invited Stormy to sit at the desk with them and introduced her. Jack, head anchor, smiled an all-teeth smile at Stormy while he asked her questions and surreptitiously checked out her too-low-cut top. If he’d been a cartoon character, his tongue would’ve rolled out of his mouth and smacked the desk. And even worse were the Internet messages from viewers below the video. No one, of course, commented on whether or not Stormy had sports knowledge or experience. It was all talk of how hot the new sideline reporter was.

Charli’s dinner churned in her stomach, and she clicked the off button. Well, apparently they’d nailed their target market. The market that had no interest in her. But before she could fall back into that lovely dark place of feeling sorry for herself, the front door of the cabin opened and Grant stepped out. She instinctively shrunk backward, making sure she stayed cloaked in the shadows of the oak. The last thing she needed was Grant finding her out here and adding creepy stalker to her list of attributes along with girl who throws herself at men whilst drunk.

He glanced around the yard, but not with intent, then shut the door behind him. He was still fully dressed in what she was beginning to think was his uniform—plaid shirt and worn jeans, but he’d taken his hat off, revealing that dark wavy hair of his beneath. Her fingers flexed, remembering what it felt like between her fingers, wondering how that shadow of a beard would feel against her skin.

Stop it. Even knowing he had no interest in her, she couldn’t stop herself from the fantasies. It was as if his presence scrambled the signals in her brain—making her think things she never thought, want things she’d never considered. But after the humiliation of last night, she’d needed to get herself together and show him that she wasn’t some desperate woman trying to get his attention. He couldn’t know that he had any power over her. Not if they were going to exist together these next few weeks. They would need to agree to forget what happened last night and move on. Delete that episode altogether.

Just not tonight. She wasn’t ready for that conversation quite yet.

She held her breath, though at this distance there was no way he’d be able to hear her breathe, and watched. She expected him to head to his truck, but instead he turned at the far corner of the house and walked away from her and toward the resort. Apparently, he was going to work, but what would a resort need the owner for this late at night? Wouldn’t everyone be settling in or sleeping by now?

Once he was far enough away, she let her lungs empty and tucked her computer back into her knapsack. She’d be able to escape to her cabin without him ever knowing she was here if she left now. But as she watched Grant’s sauntering gait disappear into the night, she found herself rising from the bench and heading away from her cabin instead of toward it, the draw of the unknown too tempting for her reporter instincts.

If he could install a tracking device on her car, then she could be nosy, too.

She tucked her bag behind a bush near the back side of his cabin, then picked up her pace so she wouldn’t lose him. She kept a decent distance behind him. Grant had been in the military and so undoubtedly had finely tuned senses for people sneaking up on him. And the grounds were so damn quiet, one snapped twig and she’d reveal herself. But Grant never looked back, just continued to stride with that swagger of his. A man on a mission by the looks of it. Maybe something had gone wrong at the resort and he had been called over.

Grant opened the padlocked gate that led to the other side of the property, and Charli ducked behind a tree as he turned to swing the gate closed behind him. Some creepy-crawly thing landed on Charli’s arm and it took everything she had not to yelp and shake it off. Grant snapped the lock closed, the sound echoing in the silence, and continued on his way. As soon as his back was to her again, she did a little shake and got the damn bug off her arm, shuddering. She’d rather face a coyote than bugs.

In order to follow Grant, she had to climb over the low post-and-rail wooden fence, which made her glad she’d chosen sneakers tonight. She hopped down to the other side and glanced around, half-expecting a SWAT team to lower down from the surrounding trees. Grant had made everything sound so top secret over here.

But no one came to tackle her, and she was able to catch sight of Grant again in no time. There were paved paths on this side with solar-powered garden lights lining some portions of the trails. The wild Texas brush and trees were trimmed back and looked neater, more manicured. There really was no way to remain hidden, so instead she pushed her shoulders back and tried to pretend like she belonged there. If anyone but Grant saw her, maybe they’d assume she was another guest.

The main house loomed in the distance—a breathtakingly large building of cedar and river rock. Lights glittered around its perimeter but the few windows she could see were all dark. She had no idea if the main building had rentable rooms or if it was just the place for dining rooms and spas or whatever the hell rich people needed on their rustic vacation. Regardless, Grant seemed to be making a beeline in that direction.

As soon as she rounded the last bend though, something off to the right caught her eye. A flash of movement. She turned her head, taking her eyes off Grant, and almost tripped over her feet when she saw two men underneath a nearby tree. One of the men was shirtless and pressed up against the bark; his partner’s forearm was pressed over his wrists, holding his arms taut above his head. Charli’s gaze tracked down and she couldn’t help but gasp when she saw where the man’s other hand was. The fly of shirtless guy’s pants was spread wide and the man’s fist was wrapped around his partner’s shaft in what looked to be a painfully tight grip.

The man against the tree shifted his gaze, catching sight of her. Their eyes locked.

Charli stopped, feet frozen in place. Not sure what to do. Was the guy being attacked? She couldn’t imagine any man wanting to be gripped that tightly. Did he need help? But then he smiled at her—a lazy, drunk-on-pleasure smile, one that stirred something unfamiliar within Charli. His partner released his grip on the man’s cock in an instant and smacked him audibly across the cheek.

Charli let out a little yelp.

She moved forward, not sure what she was going to do, but unable to stand there and watch someone get hurt. But the man against the tree shook his head at her and winked, then apologized to the guy who’d just hit him and lowered his head.

She halted her step. This was some kind of game.

A game he didn’t want her interfering with.

She backed away, moving onto the path again and trying to get her legs to work correctly beneath her. She had no idea what was going on. How had Grant passed right by this couple and not seen what was happening? What if someone on a family vacation passed by with their kids?

She wrapped her arms around herself, somehow both hot and cold at the same time. Her body’s odd reaction to seeing the couple was something she’d rather not think too hard on. She started walking up the path at a much faster pace than before. Now she was going to have to admit to Grant that she’d snuck onto the property. She didn’t know what was allowed at his resort, but she couldn’t imagine public sex was okay. He had a right to know what was going on.

She scanned the path in front of her and sighed. Of course, she’d lost sight of her cowboy during the diversion. Some stalker she was. Not sure what else to do, she made her way up to the main house and considered her options. The place had a number of doors and she had no idea which Grant had gone into or if they were locked or alarmed. And really, she no longer remembered why it had sounded like such a good idea to follow him in the first place. Maybe it was time to tuck tail and run.

The soft female voice startled Charli. She spun around to find a stunning blonde smiling back at her—a stunning blonde wearing what looked to be a red latex catsuit. “Uh…”

She tilted her head, assessing her. “You new here?”

She laughed. “Sorry. You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to. We’re all just a little curious about our tight-lipped boss.” She stuck out her hand. “I’m Kelsey, by the way. Or Lady K as most everyone knows me around here these days.”

Pieces started to slide into place in Charli’s brain. “Nice to meet you. I’m Charli.”

Oh, shit. “Altogether.”

She walked through the door, her hips swaying on top of crazy-high-heeled boots with the ease of a pendulum. Charli followed her in, feeling like a schlub in comparison. How were some girls born with that vixen gene? Charli had no interest in other women, but even she couldn’t help but be drawn in by Kelsey’s magnetic sexuality.

Kelsey walked forward with long strides that belied her petite size. “So what side of the sandbox do you play in?”

Charli frowned. “I’m, um, not sure yet.”

Kelsey gave her a quick grin over her shoulder. “Oh, I know how that is. Sometimes you just have to give each role a shot and see what lights you up.”

The halls were quiet and decorated with deep maroons and dark wood. There were no windows but soft glowing sconces lit their way, giving the whole place a somehow comforting womblike vibe. Kelsey turned a corner and crooked a thumb toward the door on the left. “Here we are. Keep quiet when we go in. I’m a little late, so things have probably already gotten started. This is an open session, so if you want to join in at any time, go for it.”

Charli nodded, scared about what she was walking into but too damn curious to turn around and hustle back home. “Thanks.”

Kelsey turned the knob with nimble fingers and pushed the door open without a sound. On the other side was a small room. Charli peered over Kelsey’s shoulder, her lips parting when she saw the space was filled with half-dressed men and women on their knees. She pressed her fingers over her mouth, barely managing to choke down a gasp of surprise and avoid alerting everyone to her presence. Having a notion of what the place could be and actually seeing it were two different things. A ripple of nerves went through her.

Kelsey stepped inside, and Charli didn’t know what else to do but go in with her. Hell, at the very least, this was a whole lot more interesting than what was going on at her empty cabin. The man at the front of the room—the only person standing—nailed the two of them with his gaze. “Ah, I told you all we’d have a special treat. Lady K has generously offered to help tonight.”

One of the two men kneeling turned his head to see Kelsey and broke out into a wide, awed smile. Kelsey’s expression turned icy in an instant—from Snow White to evil queen in zero point five seconds. “Sub, I didn’t give you permission to look at me.”

The words were like the snap of a whip. The man instantly lowered his head as if he’d been struck. “So sorry, mistress. Forgive me. I was overwhelmed by your beauty.”

She sniffed, a haughty tilt to her chin. “Flattery will get you nowhere. Master Colby must’ve not gotten to that part of your lesson yet.”

The man at the front—Colby presumably—sent Kelsey a conspiratorial smile. “We’ve only started working on proper kneeling techniques. But I’ll be sure Antoine earns your forgiveness later, Lady K.” Colby looked to Charli as if noticing her for the first time, then back to Kelsey. “Have you brought us another trainee?”

Colby’s dark eyebrows lowered, thunderclouds crossing his features, and he shook his head. “No observers for my trainings. Participate or leave.”

Charli’s throat seemed to shrivel, and she couldn’t get a response out. Kelsey must’ve recognized the panicked look because she put a hand on Charli’s elbow and leaned next to her ear. “Don’t freak out. Nothing major happens in this session—it’s all manners. Stay and see how you feel. Might help you with your decision.”

More because her legs wanted to give out from under her than anything else, Charli let Kelsey guide her down into a kneel. So this is why Grant had been so guarded about the resort. Grant—the cowboy military guy turned vineyard owner—ran some sort of kinky S and M club? She couldn’t even wrap her mind around the thought.

And if he ran it, did that mean he was into it, too?

Charli was dragged from her thoughts as Colby walked over to one of the younger women in the front—a dark-haired beauty who looked to be pulled from the pages of an old-fashioned pinup calendar. He cupped her chin and titled her face toward him. “Stella, would you please show the group what a nice stand and kneel you have?”

The girl kept her eyes down. “Yes, sir.”

With one fluid movement, Stella rocked forward, tucked her toes under, and rose to a stand. It was a simple sequence of actions, but even Charli couldn’t deny the utter elegance it conveyed—like a silk curtain lifting with a gust of wind.

Colby gazed down at her with pride. “Lovely, Stella.” He looked to the group. “You see that, subs? None of this putting one leg up first or pushing yourself up with your hands. Unless you have some injury stopping you, your master or mistress deserves that kind of grace from you.” He put a hand on Stella’s shoulder. “Down.”

The idea should have rankled Charli. She’d spent her whole life making sure men saw her as an equal, showing no weakness, no softness. But there was such feminine beauty to Stella, Charli couldn’t help but feel a tug of envy. What must it be like to draw that kind of rapt attention, to get that dripping-with-lust gaze from a man? Something low and deep within her stirred at the notion.

Colby crossed his arms over his broad chest, looking like a drill sergeant. “Now I want to see all of you follow Stella’s example. Up.”

The group instantly sprung to life, each person trying to emulate the graceful act. Charli hesitated for a moment but then snapped to it when she realized not following would only bring attention to herself. She attempted the movement, but her hand landed onto the floor when she overcorrected on her balance. She rose to her feet with the elegance of an offensive lineman suffering a concussion. Terrific.

Everyone scrambled back to the floor. Some smoothly, some not so much.

Kelsey shook her head, tsking. “Pitiful.”

Charli felt the heat of shame rising up from her chest. Shit, what had she gotten herself into? And why should she even care if she was a pretty kneeler or not?

Charli stared down at her hands, wondering how she could sneak out with anyone noticing. She needed to get out of here—stat. This was way out of her zip code. But right when she started to turn her head to venture a peek at the door, a heavy hand landed on her shoulder. “You seem to be lost, Ms. Beaumonde.”

EIGHT

The voice behind Charli held barely restrained violence. She closed her eyes, wishing she could fall through the floor or wake up. This all had to be some bizarre nightmare, right? Dancing orangutans would twirl through the room anytime now. But of course when she opened her eyes again, Grant’s hand was still on her shoulder. And she was still in the middle of some odd How to Be a Sex Slave class.

His breath was a hot tickle against her ear. “You have three seconds to stand up and come with me before I embarrass you and let everyone know you’re an intruder here.”

Her jaw clenched, but when she caught Kelsey’s curious gaze, Charli tamped down her smart-ass reply. She didn’t want to make Kelsey look bad. Plus, the thought of being exposed as an outsider suddenly seemed too much to stomach. She was in that role way too often in her life already. She rose to her feet—at least a little more smoothly than she had the first time.

Grant seemed huge next to her all of a sudden, as if being in this place somehow made him even taller. He grasped her upper arm and none too gently led her from the room. After shutting the door, he tugged her again like she was some disobedient puppy and guided her down the hallway. “Not a word until I get you behind a closed door.”

The clipped command sent both a whisper of fear and some other unidentifiable emotion through her. She shivered beneath his grip, which apparently didn’t go unnoticed by him. He gave her the side eye and the hard line of his mouth dipped into a full frown. But he stayed silent until they’d gone up an elevator, down another elegantly decked-out hallway, and into cozy sitting room, complete with a stone fireplace. Through another open door, she could see a bigger room with a desk and large plate-glass windows that looked out onto the black night. Grant’s office.

He let go of her arm and shut the door they’d come through, then pinioned her beneath an iron gaze. “Sit.”

She sat, suddenly feeling the true extent of his anger. He was always a bossy son of a gun but here, at this place, she sensed that part of him had dialed up from low buzz to rattle-and-hum mode.

Then it hit her.

Grant was like Colby.

She remembered the way Grant had made her hold the bar in the shower, the way he’d taken control.

He was one of the men who made women kneel for him.

Charli thought of pretty, subservient Stella, and her stomach plummeted like she’d been thrown from a bridge. No wonder Grant had left last night. She was everything girls like Stella weren’t.

She looked away from him, staring at the unlit fireplace. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t have come over here.”

She glanced up at him, meeting the challenge in his eyes. “Some, I don’t know, sex club, brothel, God knows what.”

He smirked. “You think I’m running a whorehouse?”

He closed his eyes briefly, as if reining in the desire to shake her. “Because those people are submissives who want to learn how to please a dominant. This is a fantasy resort. BDSM being our speciality.”

Her brows lifted. “BDSM? Is that the same as S and M?”

He blew out a breath, sinking onto the couch opposite her, the fight visibly draining from him. “That’s the older term for it. But yeah, basically. Bondage, dominance, submission, and sadomasochism. And this is supposed to be a place where I guarantee people the highest level of privacy to practice it. If my members knew that I’d allowed some nosy reporter to sneak onto the property…” He leaned back in his seat. “It could ruin my entire reputation.”

Her teeth had gnashed together at the nosy reporter comment, but she tamped down her response when she saw how weary he looked. This was obviously a very big deal here, and she had been the one to break the rules. She pushed back all the snarky things she wanted to say. “I’m sorry. Really, I am. I’m not going to pretend I understand all this, but I had no right to come over here. Sometimes my curiosity gets the better of me.”

He eyed her. “You think?”

His head tilted, mischief in his eyes. “Not a totally unappealing idea. Maybe you learned more in that training class than I think.”

Her neck burned, the heat traveling up like mercury in a thermometer.

She studied the tops of her hands, his inquiring gaze suddenly too much to take head-on. “I sort of got persuaded by Kelsey.”

A soft chuckle. “Ah, Kelsey. She’s new to my staff, but a very promising domme. If she can persuade you to do something, maybe she deserves a raise.”

Charli’s head lifted, her eyes narrowing. “Right, of course, because I’m nothing like those women in that room.”

He leaned forward, forearms braced on his thighs. “No. You’re not.”

For some reason, the words pierced her like barbed wire. She herself had been thinking in the session she was nothing like those women. But hearing him say it with such conviction lashed at the same battered spot her boss had created when he’d told her she hadn’t gotten the on-air position. Not good enough. Not pretty enough.

She hauled herself up from the couch as if the furniture had caught on fire beneath her. The telltale stinging sensation of impending tears seared her throat. “I want to go back to my cabin.”

He mouth dipped. “We’re not done here. We need to talk about last night, and I need to know that you’re not going to—”

But she was no longer listening as she moved toward the door. She had to get out of here. Right. Now. She wasn’t exactly sure why she felt ready to fall apart. All she knew was she was not going to do it in front of Grant.

She reached for the doorknob but a large palm landed against the wood over her head, preventing the door from opening. “Charli, stop. Why are you running?”

She stared at the door, the polished wood blurring in her vision and Grant’s body heat radiating against her back. He was so close. There was no way she was going to escape without him seeing her tears. She pressed her palms against the door. “Please. I need to go.”

But the words were choked, cracked, revealing what she was trying so hard to hide.

She didn’t want to talk to him. Didn’t want to lay her shame bare. But in that moment, she couldn’t stuff it down any longer. She swiped at her ridiculous tears. “I’ve spent my whole life working hard, proving myself. And no matter what I do, everyone always wants what I’m not.”

She raised her gaze to him and managed a well-duh smirk. “If I didn’t make it embarrassingly clear last night in the bathroom, I’m attracted to you. And of course, you can’t be a guy who would just want to have a quick fling with someone like me. No, you want the epitome of all that is stereotypically feminine. The gorgeous goddess on her knees.”

The lines around his mouth deepened. “Charli.”

She raised her palm. “Please. Don’t. If you say some pitying comment, I’m going to punch you in the face.”

His shoulders sagged with a heavy sigh. “That’s not what I was going to do.”

She stepped around him, walking to the window on the far side of the room and putting her back to him. “Right.”

She heard his boots against the floor as he turned around, but he didn’t come any closer. “Believe what you want, but let me say my piece. Since the night I found you out on the road, I haven’t stopped imagining what it would be like to get you in my bed. Every time you talk back to me, I want to hush you up in all kinds of creative ways. And last night, it took every letter of my moral code to walk out and not take full advantage of the situation.”

Her blood seemed to halt in her veins, her whole body pausing as if to make sure she’d heard him right. His footfalls sounded behind her, and then his scent was invading the air around her.

Her heart was a hard, pounding knot in her throat. He was too close for her to get her thoughts in order. “Vanilla?”

She blinked, her tears forgotten. He didn’t do normal sex at all? And…“Wait, you think I’m attractive?”

He laughed and lowered his hands to his sides. “Good grief, freckles. Is that your first question for me after my big I’m-a-kinky-bastard confession?”

She crossed her arms. “Yes. I need to hear what you think. The truth.”

He looked to the heavens as if pleading for some divine patience. “The truth? You’re hardheaded, you wear clothes too big for that body of yours, and you have awful taste in wine. But yes, I wanted you so badly last night that I could barely make it back to my cabin before wrapping my hand around my cock and jerking off to thoughts of you.”

Even the tips of her ears went hot at that. “Well, there’s a backhanded compliment if I’ve ever heard one.”

He shrugged. “You wanted the truth. Would you rather I bullshit you?”

She glanced down at her comfy T-shirt and loose jeans, seeing her clothes through his eyes instead of hers for the first time. “No. I can take it.”

He tucked his hands in his pockets, his expression turning resigned. “Go back to your cabin, Charli. Don’t tell anyone about this place, and we’ll move on.”

And with that, she was dismissed.

So they were attracted to each other and it didn’t matter. Because she wasn’t some dainty, submissive girly girl.

If she were, then he’d probably have his mouth on her right now. And hell, she’d probably have her promotion, too.

The thought was like a match being struck. She peeked over at Grant again, a small smile forming on her lips.

Tonight, she’d let him be. But tomorrow…Tomorrow he’d find out just how hardheaded she could get.

Game, set, match, cowboy.

NINE

Grant grabbed the rag he’d thrown over his shoulder and wiped the sweat off his face. After the night he’d had, the only cure he could think of this morning was working his ass off in the fields. At least the grapes were doing well because everything else was going to shit. He’d had another failed interview with a potential trainee last night and then Charli had, once again, thrown a grenade into his evening.

Lord, seeing her kneeling there in that class had taken the floor right out from under him. For a moment, he hadn’t been able to decide what action he wanted to take more—drag her to his office to yell at her or haul her off to his play space to discipline her in a much more inventive fashion. His body had wholeheartedly decided on the latter, but his brain had overruled.

This time.

He trudged through the last of the brush to get back to the main path, but muttered a curse when he saw Charli sitting on the fence near his cabin. Think of the devil and she shall appear. Charli had hooked her feet onto the cross post and that red mane of hair was blowing around her like wildfire. If trouble could be photographed, that’s what it would look like.

She grinned and hopped off the fence when she saw him, a new light in her eyes. “Well, look at that. The cowboy actually does farm work?”

The shift to a lighthearted version of Charli surprised him. Huh, maybe they were actually going to be able to move on from the mess of the last few days. He closed the distance between them and tossed the rag back over his shoulder. “Have the calluses to prove it. How ’bout you? Aren’t you supposed to be at your job, Ms. Beaumonde?”

She raised her palm to block her eyes from the glare and looked up at him. “Research day.”

He reached up, took off his hat, and sat it on her head. “You need to get yourself a hat or some sunscreen. You’re already starting to burn.”

The hat tilted off-kilter, too big for her head. She tucked her hands in her pockets with a shrug. “Irish skin, what are you going to do?”

He could think of a number of things to do with it. Like lick it or bite it or turn it bright pink without any help from the sun. He pushed the images out of his head. Focus, man. “So, what are you doing here?”

Oh, Lord. “And I need a drink. Inside.”

He walked past her and she followed him into the house, finding her way to one of his kitchen stools. He grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge, set one out for her, and then went about downing his in one long gulp.

He could feel her stare on him.

He tossed the empty bottle into the recycle bin and sent her a wary look. “Be careful, freckles. That sounds dangerously close to flirting.”

She straightened in her seat, and he couldn’t help but notice how fucking cute she looked with his too-big hat on her. He wondered what she’d look like wearing only his hat.

Maybe he should have put bourbon in his water. “Okay…”

She rolled the plastic bottle between her palms, her hands belying her nerves despite her steady voice and gaze. “Is Colby available for private lessons?”

He damn near choked on his own spit. “What?”

Grant’s thoughts were banging together in his head like cymbals. Crash. Crash. Crash. She wanted sub training? With Colby? “But you’re not a submissive.”

Her eyes narrowed dangerously, and he could feel her digging her heels in on the topic. “So what, you’re like the Sorting Hat in Harry Potter? You’re the be-all, end-all decision on which group I belong in?”

Her already sun-pink cheeks went full red, and he thought he’d succeeded in scaring her.

But then her nipples hardened beneath her T-shirt, and the pulse at her throat visibly quickened. Subtle signs, but ones that were his instinct to notice. He blinked at her, his own blood surging below his belt. Fuck. What he’d said had turned her on. She was having a submissive response.

At that realization, the need he was trying so hard to keep locked down jumped to the surface, uninvited but undeniable. All the urges he’d been failing to feel each time he interviewed a potential sub trainee flooded him like they’d just been lying there in wait for this moment, ready to yank him under. He stepped closer and braced his hands on the counter, inches from her. He needed to back away, to kick her out. Her response was probably a fluke, a reaction to the mention of sex. But he couldn’t move.

She was holding her breath, but he didn’t sense any fear. He sensed…want.

His voice was deadly calm when he finally managed words. And they weren’t the words he’d intended to say. “Are you thinking about Colby doing those things to you, Charli? Is that why your body is coming to life?”

Her hands had stilled against the bottle and the hum of the refrigerator seemed deafening in the silence. She stared at the patch of counter in front of her, her normally defiant gaze not venturing upward. “No. Not him.”

A slew of emotions came with her answer. Relief that she wasn’t hot for Colby. Dread over who she was interested in. And fear about the swiftly dwindling control he had over his own desires. “Damn, you’re bullheaded. Didn’t you hear anything I said last night? I can be tough and mean, freckles. I don’t just like to dominate a submissive; I like to own her while she’s in training with me. You think I’m bossy now? You have no. Fucking. Idea.”

She looked up at him, a glimmer of honest fear finally inching into the green depths of her eyes.

He took his hat off her head and tossed it to the side. “You need to go back to your cabin and forget about this plan. You’re in over your head.”

She stared at him with a go-to-hell in her eyes and a fuck-off hovering on her lips. He thought she was going to traipse off in a huff. But after a few pregnant beats, she tilted her chin up. “Try me.”

The response didn’t even compute in his head. “What?”

She leaned back in her chair, sassy with courage now.

Which only made the crotch of his jeans go tighter, that haughtiness of hers taunting his most primal instincts. The sleeping tiger inside him stirred and lifted a dark eye, his prey in sight.

This was wrong in so many ways Grant had lost track. Charli was Max’s sister. Non-submissive. Someone Grant was supposed to protect. They had no contract between them, no carefully negotiated limits. She was a D/s virgin, for God’s sake. It was everything he was against.

But the switch had been flipped, the temptation too much.

He would have her.

Charli’s lips rolled inward as she watched the change come over Grant. There was almost a visible ripple over his skin, like he was shedding some costume he wore in public and showing her what really lay beneath.

She swallowed hard and rose to her feet. Knowing for sure that her mouth had gotten her into trouble this time. What the fuck was she doing?

But something about Grant’s challenging tone and sun-and-sweat-glazed body had caused a coup in the decision-making part of her brain. Her hormones were now solidly in charge.

Grant walked with slow, measured steps around the counter, then stopped in front of her, peering down with a dark, almost clinical expression. “Your safe word is Texas. You know what that means, Charli?”

She tried to respond but her tongue had forgotten how to work. She shook her head.

She cleared her throat twice before managing a feeble “No, sir.”

He grabbed her unopened bottle of water, twisted the cap off, and handed it to her. “Drink.”

She did.

Everything stops. Meaning, if she said that word, he’d have proven she really couldn’t handle him. Fat chance. Losing wasn’t her style.

He stalked forward, backing her into the counter. “Make me request something twice and I’ll be sure and show you the punishment part of this dynamic. A favorite of mine.”

The edge of the granite pushed into the small of her back. Her instinct was to rail against him. To tell him to fuck off. But her body wasn’t on board with that plan, and she had agreed to try. So try she would. “Sorry.”

She’d never stripped down for a guy in broad daylight like this. The blinds were open and anyone walking by would easily see inside. But bringing that up to Grant probably wasn’t going to go over so well. With awkward fingers, she fumbled with the buttons on her shirt and peeled it off, revealing her plain cotton bra underneath. One that had gone an odd shade of gray when she’d accidentally washed it with the color load. Fabulous. Nothing said sexy like old Hanes.

She let the shirt fall to the floor, and Grant took a small step back, giving her room to continue. His hawk-like gaze watched her every move, every flinch. She took a steadying breath, toed off her sandals, and went to the button of her khakis. She closed her eyes and tugged them down, knowing that the comfy panties beneath were older and in worse shape than her bra. She stepped out of the puddle of clothing and stared down at her toes. Now she remembered why she always had sex in the dark.

She glanced up at him, finding his expression maddeningly unreadable. “Grant, I feel—”

Awkward, embarrassed, freaking exposed.

She gritted her teeth. So this was how it was going to be. Fine. Her brothers had learned a long time ago to never call her bluff. She never backed down from a dare. So if Grant thought he could scare her off of this by being an asshole, he had another thing coming.

Here goes nothing.

She reached behind her, unhooked her bra, revealing her barely B-cup breasts, and then tugged her panties down and off. The warm air in the cabin suddenly felt ten times cooler against her bared skin. She shifted her weight, all too aware of the telltale moisture between her thighs. Damn. She almost didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that simply seeing him walking in from the fields all glistening and dirty had gotten her body revving.

She stared at his boots, not wanting to see his reaction. Fearing she’d find disappointment there. Knowing that would make her call her safe word before anything else would.

His feet stepped forward until he was a breath away from her. “Look at me.”

Her hands clenched, but she forced her face upward, bracing herself for whatever she was going to find there.

Blue fire raked over her as his eyes traced the planes of her face. “You do yourself a great disservice, Ms. Beaumonde, with those clothes you wear. What’s beneath is even better than I imagined that night I stroked my cock thinking of you.”

Oxygen forgot to move through her lungs.

He planted a hand on each side of her on the counter, caging her between his forearms, and leaned in. She closed her eyes, absorbing what he’d just told her, inhaling him. Clean sweat, grass, and man danced around her in a heady elixir. No aftershave or fancy cologne. Only the most erotic scent she could ever remember smelling in her life.

He nuzzled the spot behind her ear, drawing the tip of his tongue along her lobe. “Are you wet for me, Charli?”

The honeysuckle twang of his voice was like a hot lick to every one of her erogenous zones. She shuddered and he pressed against her, the soft denim of his worn jeans revealing the erection restrained behind that zipper.

He bit her earlobe, the sharp nip sending a zap through her. She gasped.

Hell. What was he doing to her? She could barely grab on to her thoughts.

She pressed her forehead into his shoulder, knowing that her skin was probably blotchy from a full-body blush. She was no virgin, but her encounters had mostly been casual, low-key romps. A little kissing, a little touching, and then the usually lackluster main event. She’d never felt so observed before. “Thank you.”

His palm dipped lower, his finger parting her sex and finding her damp heat. The callused pad of his finger slid over her clit, causing her to arch against him.

The dirty words were so different from the way he talked to her normally, so opposite the gentleman cowboy. But somehow that made it even more effective. Knowing that he was showing her this secret, darker side of himself had her insides fluttering. He stroked her with firm confidence, and a soft moan passed her lips.

He moved his hand away, stopping the decadent stimulation, and took a step back, leaving her there naked and aching. The disapproval on his face was like a lash to her skin. “Turn around, forearms on the counter.”

Her heartbeat raced, her limbs tingling with a rush of fight-or-flight, but she turned around nonetheless and followed his instruction. The cool granite pressed against her arms and an overwhelming wave of vulnerability washed over her. His belt buckle clinked.

Whoa, was he going to take her right here, like this?

The idea shouldn’t have been so damn appealing.

But instead of feeling his hands on her, she felt smooth, supple leather brush across the base of her spine. “Lace your fingers together and put your forehead against your hands.”

She probably needed to pray.

Escape. She could walk out right now. Go back to her safe, little existence where she had all the control, where everything was nice and predictable.

She heard the belt cut through the air before she felt the blazing sting as it landed across the fleshy part of her backside. The pain radiated like a line of fire over her skin. She cried out and her nails bit into the tops of her hands.

Her mind took a second to process what he was telling her. Count what? Oh, shit. The hits. There were more coming? “One.”

The belt came down again, different spot, same wicked bite. She pressed her forehead hard into her hands. “Two.”

Anger sparked bright within her. Never in her life had she let anyone treat her like she was some misbehaving child. Her own father had never even raised a hand to her. As the only girl left in the household, she’d been treated with kid gloves. She wanted to turn around, rip that belt from his hands, and smack Grant in the head.

But then a low rumble of a noise came from him—something between a groan and a growl. His hands were on her in an instant, large palms massaging the throbbing stripes on her backside, activating a pleasant erotic burn that traveled over her nerve endings. “Oh, look how beautiful you are like this. Your skin gets so pretty and pink.”

The tone and reverence of his voice shot straight to that needy part inside of her, dragging her focus away from any lingering sting and onto the pulsing ache between her legs.

She could bail. Probably should. But her feet remained fastened to the floor. This was no longer about winning a challenge. Everything in her ached for him—to experience all of whatever he was. To fall under his dark spell. “I’m ready for you, sir.”

He didn’t say anything for a few seconds, then his low, commanding voice caressed her. “Push up onto your toes and hold that position, darlin’.” She heard the rustle of clothing behind her as he moved. “Remember, no coming.”

She found her bearings on the balls of her feet and gave herself over to the moment. Yes, she’d wandered into uncharted territory. Yes, there would be shit to deal with afterward, but right now all she wanted to do was be there for whatever happened next.

She didn’t have to wait long to find out what he had in mind. Those roughened thumbs of his brushed against her folds and then spread her open from behind. A little noise of surprise eked out of her, and she almost dropped her heels back to the floor. But then his tongue, so hot and adept, was against her. Tasting her. Teasing.

Pleasure shuddered through her, lighting her up like a tree at Christmas. Every sensitive zone on her body perked to attention. Her nipples against the cold granite, the now strangely pleasant burn of the belt marks, the arches of her feet straining, the oh-so-tender skin he licked and nibbled at. Her heartbeat seemed to lodge right behind her clit, the throb becoming a desperate thing.

That urgency was so unfamiliar and unnerving. Guys didn’t do this to her. Orgasms had always been such hard work. A battle. She thought the night in the shower had been a fluke, but he wasn’t even inside her yet and she was ready to detonate.

His tongue slid inside her channel and she moaned, losing her balance for a second. He held her in place, keeping her from slipping to the floor, and fucked her with his tongue. She clenched her threaded hands, the overwhelming need for release making her feel frantic, edgy. Starved.

Just when she thought she wouldn’t be able to hold back anymore, he pulled away, planting a kiss on the back of her thigh. “Heels down.”

She let her feet relax and melted against the counter, her heart pounding like she’d run miles on the treadmill. She didn’t dare get up or look back though. She didn’t want that belt again; she only wanted him.

She listened to him walk back into the living room, the pull of a drawer, then the sound of a crinkling foil as his steps got closer again. A condom. He palmed her hip. “Last chance to back out.”

He slid two fingers inside her and her muscles clamped around them. He made a pleased sound under his breath. “Tell me what you want me to do to you, Charli.”

She winced. Why couldn’t he make this easy? Any other guy would see prone girl on counter, naked and willing, and would get right to it. But no. Not Grant. “Sir…”

She bit her bottom lip, her inner feminist urging her to tell him just that—that she didn’t need him. She could walk away, too. Hell, most of the guys she’d slept with had left her unsatisfied. She was used to it. But another deeper, quieter part of her whispered for her to let go and give in, to get her reward for surviving him. She swallowed hard and opened her eyes, staring hard at the fine pattern of the granite, wishing she could turn around and see his face. “Please, sir. I want you to take me. I need you to.”

She did as she was told and laid her cheek against the counter. He grabbed her arms and guided them behind her back. The soft leather that he’d hit her with now looped around her wrists. He cinched the belt with a clink, binding her arms. Then, he kicked her heels apart with his booted foot.

She only had a second to realize how at his mercy she was before he was sliding inside her. Hot and thick and every bit as toe curling as she’d imagined. Every muscle in her body seemed to contract at the sweet invasion. A low moan drifted off her lips as he eased in, stretching her and taking his time burying himself inside her.

The fit was snug, her tissues tender, no doubt from her long bout of celibacy, but pain was definitely not how she would describe it. Fantastically intense was more like it. “No, sir. Feels…amazing.”

At her words, she felt the tension in his grip ease a bit, and he canted his hips back, dragging himself almost all the way out then pushing deep again. Sensation went through her like ripples over the water. He groaned. “You’re right about that.”

She wiggled beneath him, an involuntary movement, her body craving more than the slow-and-sensual approach.

His free hand wrapped around the front of her hip and found her swollen clit. She bucked against him, but he held her in place with ease. His fingers slid along the slick tissues and pinched gently, winding the tension inside her into a tight, glowing ball. Her breath caught in her throat.

His pace turned NASCAR worthy, and his talented fingers did a move that made her nerves sing. Her body rocked against the counter, her back arching, and the glowing ball inside her burst into a hundred flecks of illuminated sensation. She lost conscious control of her body. Her head lifted and a sound unlike any that had ever come out of her filled the quiet cabin.

A deeper groan came from Grant, and his grip on her arms turned demanding as he reached his own release. Her name tumbled from his lips, and she couldn’t ever remember her own name sounding so sexy. She closed her eyes and let herself fall into the afterglow with him.

Seconds—or maybe minutes—passed with both of them locked in that dreamy place of dwindling bliss, his body draped over her back. She wasn’t sure she ever wanted to get up. But once the only noise in the cabin had returned to the droning fridge and the ticking clock, Grant freed her arms and slipped out of her. His voice was low. “Stay there. I’ll be right back.”

No problem. She wasn’t sure she could move. Her muscles may have dissolved.

Before she knew it, he was back with a warm, wet cloth, attending to her. Then his palm was sliding over the spots where he’d hit her, rubbing in some sort of balm that cooled her skin. She knew when she looked back at this moment, she’d probably feel embarrassed, but right now she was buzzing too much from the orgasm to care.

She pushed herself onto her elbows then rose. He wrapped a robe around her from behind and rubbed her arms, making them tingle and bringing some feeling back into them.

She turned around to find him looking like she’d left him. Fully dressed and wearing a frown. For the first time, she registered that he hadn’t let her touch him or see him naked. He probably had only pushed down his pants and taken her. And he still hadn’t kissed her. She’d let him hit her, restrain her, and fuck her, yet they hadn’t had a first kiss.

The realization dampened her buzz. “I’m…fine.”

He put his finger beneath her chin and studied her face, her eyes. “You’re upset.”

He deepened his frown, staring at her for another moment and apparently confirming whatever it was he was sensing. He lowered his hand and sighed. “I’m sorry, Charli. This was a bad idea.”

The words sent a sharp snap of disappointment through her. She looked down and knotted the belt on the robe. “Always what a girl wants to hear after she’s gotten naked with someone.”

Because she’d kind of loved it. Because it was thrilling in a way that no sex had ever been for her. Because for some odd reason, she’d trusted him not to go too far. But no way she was going to say any of that out loud. She crossed her arms and tilted her chin up. “Because I need this training and wanted to show you I can handle it. I’m not scared of you, Grant.”

He glanced over at her, his expression darkening. “You should be.”

She conjured up a practiced nothing-bothers-me smile, ignoring the fluttering anxiety in her belly, and claimed her victory—though now it felt like an empty one. “Guess I’m your new trainee, cowboy.”

His lips parted, but she didn’t give him time to respond. She picked up her clothes and ugly undergarments and traipsed out of his cabin, taking his robe and her shredded nerves with her.

TEN

He hated losing control.

This loss had at least come with a naked, spanked Charli splayed across his kitchen counter and sex that had damn near blown his head off.

But still, his jaw had yet to unclench.

She’d baited him, thrown a gauntlet down to test his own self-control. And he’d failed. Sure, he’d been the one giving the orders and the swats, but it had been driven by pure emotion—something he worked hard at keeping out of his sexual encounters. And dammit, he’d hit her with a fucking belt with no contract, without even knowing her hard and soft limits. He’d barely managed to stop himself before he’d completely gone off the reservation and taken her to his bedroom—a place he’d never taken any woman. Charli Beaumonde had unraveled him.

And hell if he could stop thinking about her. Since she’d walked out the door, he’d done little else than replay the scene and invent new ones, imagining how much further he wanted to take her. His claim-and-conquer gene was on a rampage, and he wasn’t quite sure how to turn it off.

Plus, now Charli was apparently refusing to stick to his stay-safe rules until he agreed to his end of the bargain and took her on for training. Two days had passed since their encounter and she’d stopped checking in with him. He’d waited for her text this morning, knowing it wouldn’t come, and turned on the GPS tracker. Luckily, Charli hadn’t figured out where he’d installed it. Otherwise, he had no doubt that she would’ve disabled it.

Yesterday, she’d gone to the office and he’d been able to relax and get some work done. But today, she’d turned in the opposite direction, and he’d had to get in his truck and channel his old CIA persona to do a little surveillance. So now Grant found himself parked between two buildings across from a broken-down diner in some town he didn’t know the name of watching Charli eat pancakes with a guy who talked with his hands. Grant adjusted the volume on his phone’s earpiece, trying to stay focused on Charli while still listening in on the conference call with the Water’s Edge department heads.

The others began to debate.

He knew his team meant well. They saw the sales at Water’s Edge and knew the potential their wines had at becoming a mass-market brand, but Grant refused to sacrifice quality. His father had run a successful cattle ranch for decades using that philosophy, and Grant didn’t plan to veer from it in his own business. Plus, The Ranch now brought in enough money to fund him for as long as he needed. The wine business had turned into a mere bonus.

Lars moved on to another item in the agenda, but his voice faded into the background as Grant caught movement in his peripheral vision. Charli had parked her rental car in the alley between the diner and a pawnshop. The shiny rental was the only new model in sight and apparently, Grant hadn’t been the only one to notice that. The pawnshop blocked most of the sunlight, but Grant hadn’t missed the shift in the shadows behind Charli’s car. Someone was in the mood for a little grand theft auto.

Grant didn’t have time to respond. He pulled out his earpiece and grabbed for his glove compartment, which was, of course, locked. “Dammit.”

He yanked the keys out the ignition and unlocked the compartment, grabbing for his gun. He glanced back at the diner. Charli was stepping out, absently digging through her purse for something as she walked—her keys, probably. Shit. He definitely didn’t need Charli surprising a thief.

Grant hopped out of truck, checked the safety, and tucked the gun into his waistband. “Charli! Hold up!”

Charli looked up from her bag and paused as if verifying she’d heard what she’d thought she heard, and then turned her head in his direction. He jogged toward her. Thank God he hadn’t parked far away or he may have not been able to intercept her. When she realized it was him, she put her hands on her hips, her exasperation evident even from a distance.

She glanced back at the restaurant. “What?”

He hustled past her toward the parking lot. “Inside. Now.”

Whether she figured out there was danger or saw his gun, she listened. He turned the corner into the alley on full alert. Charli’s car was third from the street, and besides an empty can rolling in the breeze, everything appeared to be still. He crept forward, his eyes and ears in full scanning mode. But after one step, the backside passenger door on the rental car jolted open and someone barreled out, dressed in all black and running full speed in the other direction.

Grant drew his gun and climbed over the hood of the first car, trying to catch up or at least get a description. But the thief had too much of a head start on him. The guy reached the end of the alley and disappeared into the greenbelt that stretched along the back of the buildings.

The rear passenger door was still wide open, and as Grant frowned down at it, a creeping feeling raised the hairs on his neck. What in the hell would a car thief be doing hiding in the backseat? If he had wanted to hot-wire it, he would’ve been fooling around the driver’s side. Grant ventured closer and peered into the backseat. A shiny roll of masking tape sat on the floorboard. His grip on the frame of the door tightened, lividity burning a path through him. He looked back to the trees, ready to hunt the bastard down and show him all the torture techniques he’d perfected.

Grant backed away from the car, making sure not to touch anything else, and gave Charli, who’d poked her head around the corner of the building, a wary look. This was getting completely out of hand. This was more than someone trying to scare Charli. Someone was trying to harm her. And that shit was completely unacceptable. He wanted to grab her, put her in his car, and not let her out of his sight again until he could personally maim and dismember whoever the fucker was.

Even monitoring Charli this closely, he’d barely had time to step in before she’d gotten into the car with some kidnapping psychopath. Whispers of the night someone had broken into his and Rachel’s home prodded at his mind. No. Don’t go there. He swallowed past the panicky, choking feeling that always accompanied the memory. He didn’t have time to have a freak-out. Charli needed him operating at a hundred percent.

Time for a new plan.

Charli wanted training? Well, she was about to get the session of a lifetime.

He tucked his gun back in his waistband. “We better call the cops, freckles. I thought someone wanted to steal your car, but it looks like someone wants to steal you.”

Charli sat on Grant’s couch, trying to rub the chill from her arms, but the too-cold feeling wouldn’t go away. She stared out the front window, watching the rays of late-afternoon sun slant over the front yard. Someone had been hiding in the backseat of her car. If Grant hadn’t been there…well, she couldn’t stop thinking about the what-ifs. It had been stupid to go off on her own just to prove a point. She’d started to believe the threat wasn’t real, that everyone had been overreacting. But now she was thanking the heavens that her brother had a paranoid streak and that Grant was so relentless in his mission.

She took it from him, warming her hands against the mug. “I don’t think so. Rodney was taking a big chance talking to me. He told me in not so many words that he was paid cash from boosters during his first two years at Dallas U. before he blew out his knee. If that came out and was proved to be true, the NCAA wouldn’t just sanction the college, they’d do a full investigation on the current program. A program that is heading toward the national championship this year, by the way.”

Grant frowned at her, then apparently decided to wave off a football debate. Wise move. She’d win. “But this Rodney guy refused to give you an official statement. Seems kind of shady to me, like he was using that info as bait to get you out there.”

She shook her head and tucked her legs beneath her. “That’s not what my gut’s telling me. I think he was being honest. But he’s got kids now and putting his name out there as a snitch—well, it’s dangerous. You know how people are about football around here.”

Grant sat down on the couch across from her, his mouth set in that way that told her he was making plans without her input. “Yeah. I do know. It is dangerous. Which is why you’re going to back off for a while.”

She halted mid-sip. “The hell I am. Today proved how important it is to break this story. We just need to take extra precautions.”

The chill she’d been trying so hard to chase off disappeared in a rush of angry heat. “Cool my heels? Grant, that’s not how this works. I’m a reporter. This is what I do.”

She groaned; of course he’d been a government operative. That explained a lot. “I’m not going to let them chase me off. I need this story.”

She started to open her mouth to speak, to give the knee-jerk reaction that wanted to come out, but she knew nothing she said would be the real truth. Yes, she believed that what was happening was wrong. Yes, she believed cheaters should be punished. But that burning, desperate drive to get this story as soon as possible had nothing to do with some reporter champion-of-the-truth moral code. This was about proving something to herself, to the mother who had walked out on her, and to everyone who ever told her she couldn’t do it. “You wouldn’t understand.”

She shifted on the couch and sighed. “I need to do more than I’m doing now. I didn’t get into this field to sit behind a computer gathering research for some other reporter’s piece. If I can land this story, there’s no way they won’t give me a promotion to an investigative reporter.”

She stared down at her coffee. “No, I want the anchor position. But apparently I’m not good on camera.”

Charli looked up, startled by the conviction behind his words.

She stared at him, then couldn’t help it, she laughed. “You may be a little overconfident in your abilities there, cowboy. I’m a quick learner, but there’s a lifetime of tomboy in here. Don’t think two weeks is going to cure me of it.”

The corner of his mouth tilted up, drawing his dimple out. “I don’t want to cure you of it, freckles. But I also know that if you give me a little time, I’ll show you how much woman is in there, too.”

The promise in his statement and the look he gave her had her swallowing hard. “What exactly would I be signing up for? Obviously, the other day was a disappointment for you.”

A crease formed between his brows. “You think I was disappointed in you? Darlin’, I can’t get you or that damn afternoon outta my head. I’ve barely gotten anything else done because you’re so…distracting.”

She looked down at her hands, trying to hide how much his words relieved her. After leaving his place, she’d been convinced she must have done something wrong.

She ran a finger around the rim of her coffee mug, not daring to look at him. “It was fine. You didn’t hit me that hard.”

She glanced up, surprised by the deep sincerity in his voice. “I didn’t have an abusive childhood. And…” She attempted an it’s-no-big-deal shrug. “I kind of liked the belt, for what it’s worth.”

She didn’t know what to do with that observation, wasn’t sure what the hell was going on with her at this point. All she knew was that for the last two days, she hadn’t been able to close her eyes without replaying the way Grant had handled her, the sharp way her body had reacted to his touch and words. She hadn’t been able to go to sleep either night without sliding her hand beneath the band of her pajama bottoms, touching herself and imagining it was Grant’s fingers and tongue instead. Her panties were damp already simply sharing the room with him.

She set her mug down and fiddled with the sleeve of her shirt, hoping her neck wasn’t as pink as it felt. Damn redheaded complexion. “What do you suggest for training?”

Boy howdy, had she learned that. “Yes. Lay it on me. What do you propose?”

He crossed his arms over his chest, looking resolute and foreboding. “For two weeks, when you’re not working, you’re all mine.”

She wet her lips, her nerves starting to take root and bloom. “Meaning?”

ELEVEN

Charli had never been to a spa before. Her beauty regime usually consisted of a quick split-end trim in the salon at her gym with an occasional deep conditioner. For a rare treat, she’d spring for a pedicure. But today she had the feeling she was going to experience a whole other side of the rigors of beautification.

Kelsey was sitting in the zen-style waiting room when Charli walked in, looking vastly different than she had the first time Charli had seen her. The catsuit and expertly applied makeup had been replaced by jeans, a soft white sweater, and a bare face that was really unfairly beautiful. If not for the world-weary glint Charli had seen in her eyes the other night, Kelsey could pass for a college student.

Kelsey looked up from the magazine she’d been reading and broke into a smile. “Hey there. Guess you didn’t get lost this time?”

Charli pulled the note Grant had left on her counter that morning from her pocket and held it up. “Grant gives good directions.”

She cocked an eyebrow and her grin turned conspiratorial. “I bet he does.”

Charli shoved the note back in her pocket, trying to cover up her instinctive, awkward reaction at Kelsey knowing exactly what she and Grant were doing. Being open about sex was going to take some getting used to. She’d grown up in a household where even the mention of her period had set her dad into a stuttering, bumbling mess. Any talk of sex would’ve probably made his poor head explode. An appointment card for the women’s health center had just magically appeared on her bedside table the day after she’d turned sixteen. “No comment.”

Kelsey laughed and tossed the magazine onto the coffee table as she stood. “So are you ready?”

She shrugged. “I guess so. Grant didn’t exactly tell me anything more about this than to show up.”

Charli leaned forward, trying to read what was on the list, but Kelsey folded it before she could read anything more than “wax.” Oh, shit.

Kelsey linked arms with Charli like they were two little kids ready to skip down the hallway. The BFF vibe that rolled from Kelsey was foreign to Charli. She’d never really had that kind of thing with girls, even as a kid. While the other girls had been braiding each other’s hair and talking about boy bands, Charli had been knocking down the guys in touch football. The one time she’d even been invited to a slumber party, the other girls had ended up teasing her about her unshaved legs and lack of training bra.

But she liked that things didn’t feel fake or forced with Kelsey. The woman’s warmth and desire to help seemed genuine. So Charli took a deep breath, trying to relax even though she was completely out of her element. “If you say so.”

Kelsey pushed open the main door to the spa area. “I do. This is going to be fun. And boy, are you going to break some hearts tonight. All those subs who were interviewing to be Grant’s are going to be so jealous when they hear.”

Charli’s tennis shoe squeaked against the floor as her step faltered. “What do you mean?”

Kelsey peeked at her, a slight wince. “Shit. Big mouth. Sorry. Never mind.”

Charli stopped and unlinked her arm from Kelsey’s, her unease returning. “No, I want to know.”

She bit her lip and peeked back down the hallway to make sure no one was around. “I thought you would’ve known. Training with Grant is highly coveted. Beyond getting a monthlong immersion with such a skilled dom, Grant also matches up the trainee with a new dom at the end of it. He has an uncanny ability to find the perfect match for his trainees, so everyone wants to be one of his girls. The waiting list is long and the interview process extensive. You jumped all those steps.”

Waiting lists? Interviews? A bitter taste rolled over her tongue. “So he just uses some woman then turns her over to another guy when he’s done with her?”

Kelsey’s head tilted, as if Charli had spoken the question in Japanese. “It’s not using anyone. It’s an agreement. Both know what they’re signing up for and both benefit. Grant’s made it clear that he doesn’t stay with any sub for longer than a month. He’s not looking for more.”

Kelsey shrugged. “You know, love, emotion, potential for marriage and kids. Grant’s an amazing dom, but he likes to keep things businesslike. Contracts, clearly defined rules. I’ve heard he doesn’t even let women come to his cabin. Everything happens here and then he goes home.”

All the new information swam in Charli’s head, not quite lining up. “Me? Why?”

Kelsey said the last two words with mock dramatics and spirit fingers, but Charli’s breakfast had started to churn in her stomach. “This isn’t really full training. I’m just uh, trying things out.”

There was a story there and Charli wanted to ask, but Kelsey turned and motioned at her. “Come on. We’re wasting time and we can’t get off schedule. Grant will be expecting you for dinner at seven sharp.”

Charli hurried to catch up. “Seven? That’s hours from now. We have lots of time.”

Grant sipped his club soda and lime while relaxing in a corner booth of Vines, the only “proper attire required” dining room at The Ranch. The place was already half full, and groupings of every makeup spoke intimately over the candlelit tables. Soft piano music drifted from the other side of the room where Javier, one of the male submissives, played something mellow.

It could’ve been any high-end restaurant in Dallas at first glance. But if one looked harder, paid more attention, he would see the collars gracing the throats of many of the men and women. He would see that it wasn’t just couples, but triads and foursomes sharing intimate conversations and promising looks. He would see same-sex couples being affectionate and relaxed with each other without fear of getting the side-eye from judgmental diners.

The sight gave Grant a deep sense of satisfaction—the kind of satisfaction that could only come from knowing that, for once, he’d done something right. He didn’t have a lot of those things to add to his résumé. He’d let so many people down in his past, he could pave a hundred-mile sidewalk with those regrets and mistakes. But here—this place—he’d gotten that right. He’d built a haven for those who’d found themselves drifting outside the neat lines society had set up for them. And for that he was proud.

But now he was bringing an outsider into this space, and he was more than a little apprehensive about how Charli was going to react. This wasn’t her world, and despite how well she’d handled the interlude in his kitchen, her mind had fought the submission hard. She may have a kinky streak hiding in there, but she definitely hadn’t slipped into subspace at any point, hadn’t truly let go. When he’d checked in with her afterward, her gaze and tongue had been as sharp as ever. She wasn’t going to break easily, if at all.

Not that it was going to stop him from trying. That was for sure.

And though he was willing to do whatever it took to keep her on the property and safe, he knew agreeing to train her was pure selfishness on his part. He wanted to touch her again, to taste her, to make her let go and lose herself—if even for a few seconds. He could teach her ways to soften her image and approach, to act more feminine, without bringing her to his bed. He knew that. And he suspected she did, too.

But she’d agreed anyway. And once she had, he couldn’t resist the opportunity to have her—even if it was for only two weeks. She was the first woman in as long as he could remember who had drummed up such an urgent need in him. And despite all that stockpiled bravado she carried around, he’d sensed a glimmer of relief in her when he’d held her down and taken her, that fleeting disappearance of will. And it’d been like a drug to his system.

A very dangerous drug.

Because now all he could think of was breaking that part of her open, of being the man to show her exactly who she could be if she gave into it. Of her fully surrendering to him during the next couple of weeks.

Something that was highly unlikely. Some women thrived on letting it all go, on being taken care of, on putting themselves into the hands of someone they trusted. But a woman like Charli, who prided herself on doing everything herself and in her own way, was going to rebel in the kind of arrangement he enjoyed. Even with the training being her idea in the first place, he knew she wasn’t going to submit quietly.

But despite all his concerns, he relished the challenge ahead. Harnessing and redirecting that rebellion in Charli could prove to be a helluva good time. He’d get to enjoy her feisty, albeit reluctant, submission, and she’d get to learn how to be a lady. Win-win. Prizes for everyone.

He took another long drag from his soda, wishing it were some of his vineyard’s Chardonnay instead but playing it safe in case he decided to initiate Charli tonight. He had no idea how pliant or pissed she’d be after all the treatments he’d set up for her today. He chuckled to himself, wondering what kind of hell she’d given the waxing technician. He doubted Charli had held back her opinion.

His glass thunked onto the table as the muscles in his forearm forgot to work. He stared at the redheaded beauty murmuring to the hostess. Well, I’ll be damned.

Charli peered into the dining room, her fingers worrying whatever she was holding in her hands. She looked lost. And unsure. And completely, jaw-hit-the-table gorgeous.

Grant rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly feeling hot all over. Damn. He’d known without a doubt that Charli would clean up well. Not many women could still look beautiful in relaxed-fit jeans and a ponytail like she did. But he hadn’t expected her to channel a Hollywood starlet or something.

The hostess leaned over and pointed to Grant’s booth. Somehow he managed to raise his hand in greeting and not smile like some goofy teenager who’s realized he’s landed a date with the prom queen. He straightened his shoulders, trying to regain his mental balance. He was supposed to be the cool and in control one here. Since when did he get like this over a pretty woman? He had beautiful subs offering themselves to him on a regular basis and it barely registered on his radar. This should be no different. She should be no different.

As Charli got closer, Grant saw what she was holding in her hands. Shoes. A pair of sexy black heels he’d picked out for her earlier today. A perfect complement, Kelsey had assured him, to the dark green strapless dress he’d chosen for Charli. His gaze went to her stocking feet, then slid up her long legs, to the hem of her short dress, and not stopping until he reached the column of her bare neck.

Not bare for long. The collar tucked into the inner pocket of his suit coat seemed to warm against his ribs at the thought. Soon.

He stood as Charli walked over to the booth. She set the shoes on the seat, put her hands on her hips, and arched a newly manicured brow at him. “Broken ankles or bare feet. Those are your choices.”

He smiled down at her. “Already giving me orders, freckles? That’s not how this works.”

She released a breath and then leaned in, keeping her voice low. “Look, it’s been a long day. I’ve been through what I think may be considered cruel and unusual under my constitutional rights as an American citizen. I’ve been waxed and plucked and exfoliated and…ironed, I think. Some woman whose name I can’t pronounce has now seen more of me than my gynecologist ever has. And this dress is…drafty. You gotta give me something here.”

He stared at her for a moment, a bit stunned by her rapid-fire speech, then laughed, loud and open, not caring that it drew the attention of the other guests. He raised his palms. “Fine. Point taken. Sit down. We’ll save the shoes for later.”

He palmed her waist and moved behind her to block anyone else’s view. “Lesson one, freckles. When wearing a dress, you need to be more aware of yourself. Giving half the restaurant a Basic Instincts moment is not that big a deal here. But back in town that may be a bit embarrassing.”

Panic flitted over her expression. “Seriously?”

He laced his fingers and leaned forward. “Yes. That’s how it works, Charli. I need you to understand that before we go any further. This is a power exchange, it isn’t ‘let’s play sexy times and get some plastic handcuffs and whipped cream so we feel kinky.’”

She held his gaze for a moment, then looked down at her water glass as if needing a second to process what he’d said. “Right.”

She ventured a glance upward. “I’m not scared, not for my safety at least.”

He nodded, pleased to hear that she at least trusted him on some level. He let go of her hand, giving her some space to speak whatever was on her mind.

Her bottom lip jutted out in frustration, creating an unintentional pout. He had an urge to sink his teeth into that plump pink flesh. She was so damn cute when she was annoyed. “That only takes a little practice.”

She gave him a yeah, right look. “I’m not even sure why you agreed to do this. There’s obviously no shortage of women around here willing to, uh…service you or whatever. Every time I speak your name it’s like I’ve mentioned some goddamned rock star.”

He snorted.

Amusement lit her eyes. “What? I’m serious. I think some of the girls are planning to make I Heart Grant T-shirts.”

She drew a heart shape in the air between them, while batting her eyelashes in an overexaggerated imitation of his so-called admirers.

He smirked, loving that she had no filter. Thought to mouth. He wondered if that’s the real reason her bosses were reluctant to put her on the air. Nothing like live TV and someone who isn’t afraid to say exactly what’s on her mind. Could be disastrous.

It was going to get her in trouble as his sub as well, but he couldn’t help looking forward to administering the fun consequences. “First of all, you wouldn’t be servicing me, you’d be subbing for me. Different animal. This isn’t prostitution. Both parties get equal benefit in this arrangement.”

The waiter stopped by the booth and upon hearing Charli’s words, simply laid down the escargot appetizer, gave Grant a new drink, and disappeared.

Grant took a sip of his club soda, amused. “That is a great benefit, but no. What you get is, well, that can be different for each person. Most subs would say they find freedom in the role.”

She eyed the appetizer and frowned. “Freedom? By being someone else’s slave?”

She sniffed the toast, examining it. “I’m thinking I could accomplish that with a trip to Barbados and an attentive waiter.”

He laughed. “Yes, but could that waiter teach you how to wow those horseshit-for-brains bosses of yours with your feminine charm?”

She popped the escargot into her mouth and mumbled “no” whilst chewing.

Her eyes narrowed as she took a sip of water. “That wasn’t a mushroom, was it?”

She winced. “Fabulous. Maybe a warning next time, cowboy.”

She grabbed another piece of bread and dipped it in the sauce, skipping the snail. “Yes, but they could probably pour this butter sauce on your boot and it would make leather taste good.”

Hmm. Visions of Charli putting her lips to his shoe drifted through his mind. He smiled. Maybe she’d come to know exactly what leather tasted like before their two weeks were up. “That can be arranged if you’d like to test the theory.”

She coughed, half-choking on her last bite of bread. “Shit. Everything I say around here is going to get me in trouble. You’ll never catch me kissing any guy’s shoe.”

He leaned forward and put a finger to her lips. “No cursing. Unless we’re in bed, then it’s fair game. New, refined Charli is going to know how and when to speak like a lady.”

Her lips pursed beneath his finger.

She tried to bite his finger, but he pulled away in time. “I have a feeling I’m going to be spending most of these two weeks in time-out.”

She didn’t have a pithy response this time. Instead, she took a sudden, deep interest in her open menu. But he knew she wasn’t deciding between steak or fish when a soft pink crept up her neck and found its way to her cheeks. My, my, maybe his little reporter had more of an appreciation for pain than he thought.

The sight had him wanting to skip dinner altogether. What exactly was she thinking about? Was her body warming at the thought of him disciplining her? Of him putting his hands on her? Because his temperature was certainly rising. Or was she simply embarrassed by the conversation?

She was such a puzzle. Coarse and hardheaded, beautiful and awkward, intelligent and driven. Anyone who met her would see right away she was a woman in charge of her life. But there, underneath all that, seemed to be something so vulnerable and innocent. Fragile, even.

And that had him both hungry for her and damn terrified.

Because if he could tear through all that other stuff, get to the core of where that glimmer was coming from, he was afraid he may not want to take her collar off when two weeks was up.

And there wasn’t much he wouldn’t try in this world.

But permanent wasn’t in his vocabulary.

TWELVE

Charli could barely focus on chewing her fish. Why was she so damn jittery? It was as if her blood had been replaced with Red Bull. She’d thought she could hold her own with Grant. She’d even managed to banter with him at the beginning of dinner, despite him looking so damn hot in that suit of his.

But as the conversation had gone on, she’d felt the shift in their dynamic. Like tilting a water table, the power had rolled over to him. He corrected her posture, her bad language, the way she kept tugging at the low-cut bodice of her dress. He was subtle about it, but she didn’t miss the significance. She had agreed to put herself in his hands. To be his…property.

The thought was still too much to wrap her head around. She’d spent half her life wiggling out from under her father’s and brothers’ crushing overprotectiveness, and now here she was giving the power over to a guy. Maybe all those concussions had caused some brain damage.

Grant glanced at her uneaten dinner, frowned. “Did you read through the contracts I sent you?”

Boy, had she. Some of the items listed in those papers had made her eyes pop…and others had made her body stir—even if the whole idea of a contract felt sort of clinical. She set her fork down and tried to drink some iced tea, hoping her voice wouldn’t croak when it came out. “I did.”

She’d looked closely at his limits. Most had been things related to The Ranch’s rules and safety. He’d also included his medical test results and had her verify hers. The only one that had stood out was that his sub was not allowed to stay at his cabin. She would be provided her own space.

Even though she knew this wasn’t a real relationship and hadn’t been expecting overnight cuddling or whatever, seeing it in black and white had still stung a bit. She decided he needed a little poke as well. “Yes. I added one.”

Mr. Cool Cowboy coughed, set his glass down. “Excuse me?”

She grinned, pleased that he looked so distressed. Maybe she still had some power in this dynamic after all. “Kidding. I’m so new to this, I’m still not sure what my hard limits could be. I didn’t add anything to yours.”

He didn’t look at all amused by her little joke. He pulled his napkin from his lap and set it next to his plate. “Charli, I’m starting to wonder if we’re making a big mistake here.”

She paused, her fork hovering over her plate. “Wait, what? Come on, I was only messing with you. Don’t be so uptight.”

She set her fork down and shifted in her seat, uncomfortable under his unyielding gaze. Had he answered when she’d asked him the same question? She couldn’t remember what his response had been if he had. “You know why. I need to learn some things. Be more refined, as you put it.”

His frown deepened. “You could learn that in one of those manners classes people give for debutantes. Why are you agreeing to give yourself to me?”

She fiddled with the edges of the napkin in her lap, wracking her brain for an answer. Why was she doing this? Yes, she wanted to learn to be more feminine. But he was right; she didn’t need to be someone’s submissive to do that. Was it simply because she was attracted to him and knew this was the only way he had relationships?

No, she may have not had a lover in a while, but she wasn’t desperate. She’d long ago learned how to take care of her own sexual needs. She was better at it than any guy had ever been. Well, until the other day in the kitchen. She’d never get that kind of orgasm on a solo tour. But still…

Why this?

Grant reached out and put a knuckle beneath her chin, forcing her to look at him. “Charli, I need your honesty here. I don’t want to take this any further until I know where you are with this.”

She nodded, attempted a small smile, failed. Honesty, huh? Fine. What did she have to lose at this point. “I’ve had three relationships in my life. The first in high school with a cornerback who was happy to relieve me of my virginity, but not so keen on telling his friends he was sleeping with the team’s ‘chick kicker’ instead of a cheerleader. Another early in college with the guy who is now my boss.”

Grant frowned. “Your boss?”

Grant’s brow wrinkled. “Meaning you only liked it four times? Or you only came four times?”

Grant’s dimple appeared.

She glanced over at the other tables, praying no one was listening to the conversation. How could this man turn her palms sweaty and her skin hot in one quick second? Never in her life had anyone asked her about something so personal. “Uh, sometimes. If I can stay focused on…you know, whatever fantasy I’m conjuring up.”

He shrugged as if to say—take it or leave it. “Why do you think it was easier for you to enjoy it with me?”

The corner of her mouth hitched up. “But that’s the thing. With you, I don’t feel like that. I feel like you see me, the woman.”

The blue in his eyes seemed to darken, and the scant slice of air between them charged with an energy that hadn’t existed a few moments before. He laid his hand palm-up on the table. “Take my hand.”

With only the slightest of hesitations, she obeyed.

He curled his fingers around hers, the grip possessive. “From this point on, here on the grounds you will go by your given name, Charlotte. When I call you that, you are mine.” His thumb caressed the backside of her hand. “My beautiful, obedient submissive.”

Beautiful. Sure.

She blinked, a bit stunned by his swift reaction and apparent anger.

She cringed and looked down. “Grant—er—sir, please.”

She closed her eyes, her fight-or-flight response screaming at her. Why was this so hard? She didn’t think she was horrible-looking. But memories assailed her—her mother standing her and her sister next to each other when her mom was still trying to get them both into pageants and modeling—comparing, contrasting, Charli never getting anything quite right. Wasn’t her torso still a little too long, her smile too tilted, her figure too boyish?

She took a deep breath, trying to focus on the here and now. She wasn’t that awkward kid anymore. Plus, Grant wasn’t going to let this go. She managed to open her eyes and say, “I’m beautiful.”

His eyes softened as he reached out and cupped her cheek. “Good girl. Now we have to work on getting you to believe it.”

She rolled her shoulders, trying to release some of the tension that had gathered there. “I have a feeling you can be mighty convincing.”

He stood and held out a hand to her. She took it and let him guide her on the step down, this time very aware of keeping her dress in place. “Where are we going?”

Before she could take another step, he dragged her against him, his hot body pressing against hers in all the right places. His breath was warm against her ear. “It’s been a real long while since I’ve acted like a true member here. I think it’s time to fix that.”

She glanced around at the other people in the restaurant—almost all were now looking their way. Her cheeks burned and cool air drifted up her skirt, teasing her newly waxed skin.

Grant balled up the panty hose, rose, and tucked them in his suit pocket. He cupped her ass through the dress and molded her against him. “When you’re with me, I don’t want anything blocking my touch. No panty hose, no underwear. I don’t even want your clothes in the way. Skirts, dresses, and lingerie only. Everything else is banned.”

Normally, she would’ve protested, questioned. No underwear? No jeans? But the way his erection was dragging the soft material of her dress against her most sensitive spot was completely fragmenting her thoughts. She shuddered against him.

He pressed his nose into her hair. “That excites you, sweet Charlotte? Knowing that whenever I want you, wherever we may be, all I need to do is shove your skirt up and take you?”

Charlotte. Just hearing the name she’d never used sliding off his honeyed baritone helped her fall more deeply under his spell. And his words did excite her, more than she wanted to admit. She liked the idea that there could be times he wouldn’t be able to resist her. That he’d have to have her right then and there. “Yes, sir.”

Just being this close to him had her body instinctively loosening, her muscles unwinding. Something about the combination of his easy touch, his illicit words, and that intoxicating masculine scent of his had her mind calming, her will quieting. What would it be like to do what he asked? To really let him take over?

No one knew her here. This was only temporary. Maybe she could slip into this foreign role for a little while—that of the yielding, cherished submissive. She’d never had a man look at her the way Grant was right now. Like there was no other woman who could possibly compete.

It was potent and erotic and so damn alluring.

Grant bent his head and brushed his lips against her jaw—a promise of kisses to come. “You ready, freckles?”

She wound her arms around his waist and pressed her forehead against his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat, feeling wanted. “I’m all yours.”

And that was that. Before they stepped out of the restaurant, she’d done the impossible. She’d surrendered.

THIRTEEN

Grant wasn’t sure what he wanted to do with Charli first. It’d been so long since he’d indulged in The Ranch’s accommodations, and he’d never taken on someone who wasn’t already part of the scene. Well, not since his wife. When he’d been with Rachel, he hadn’t known such a lifestyle existed. They’d been young and had still been figuring out the basics of vanilla sex. Kink hadn’t even hit their radar.

An edge of anxiety curled in his stomach at the thought of Rachel, but he shoved it to the back of his brain where he stored the bad shit. He wasn’t going to ruin this night.

He couldn’t decide if he should ease Charli in or drag her into the deep end with him. He didn’t want to scare her or freak her out. But her tendency to overthink things and her penchant for thrill seeking made him wonder if going whole hog would actually be best. And hell, she hadn’t checked one damn thing on her hard limits list, so he had no idea if she was simply unsure of her limits or if she was craving someone to push her. He’d need to try a few things and gauge her reaction before knowing the best path to lead her down. All he knew was that if she needed to be reminded how much of a woman she was, he was happy to make that happen.

He peeked over at her as they walked down the quiet hallway that led from the restaurant to the play areas. She gave him a wavering smile, and he squeezed her hand. “What’s on your mind, freckles?”

He slowed his step and stopped, tugging her arm gently to square her to him. “Look at me, Charlotte.”

Her shoulders rose and fell with a heavy breath, but she tilted her face toward him and met his gaze.

He pulled the leather collar from his suit’s inside pocket and wound it around her neck, her pulse thumping against the delicate skin of her throat as he snapped the lock.

Seeing the simple strip of leather had his own heartbeat picking up speed. He cupped her face with his palms. “Now you’re mine. All you need to do is focus on what I tell you. Try not to think when I give you a command, just do. I’m not here to embarrass or humiliate you. That’s not my kink. I do enjoy giving some pain, but I gave you words to use if that is ever too much.” He brushed his thumbs across her cheeks. “Anything I do with you or to you has a purpose and is for our mutual benefit. It may not always be clear how, but you’re going to have to trust that I have a good reason.”

She nodded, her shoulders straightening despite the obvious shadow of worry in her eyes. “Yes, Grant. I mean, sir.”

He smiled and kissed the top of her head, a little swell of satisfaction going through him. A dangerous swell. She’s not really mine, he reminded himself. He didn’t have the right to feel that pride.

Her mouth curved under his touch. “Damn, I thought I’d lost that thing. And I can’t believe you are teasing me about my accent.”

He tightened his grip on her hip, her words niggling at him. Why would she want some job that was going to strip her of all her flavor? Did she really want to be some generic talking head—a woman who could be interchanged with any of the other ones on different stations?

He’d taken her on for training with the promise that he’d help her refine her image, but if she thought he was going to help her become some cookie-cutter, soulless version of herself, she had another think coming. The more he found out about this job of hers, the more he wanted to yank her from it and put her up at The Ranch. She wouldn’t have to worry about her safety, her image, or anything in between. And she wouldn’t need a salary because she would never go without. He could provide everything she needed.

The dark part of his mind laughed at him. Yeah, asshole. Everything except what she deserves.

He glanced down at Charli—she was so full of life and fire and ambition. Beyond her career aspirations, she no doubt wanted to get married one day and probably have a family. Be someone’s soul mate. That was what she deserved. And that was the one thing he could never give.

All those years ago, when he’d knelt next to his wife’s lifeless body, his soul had died there with her. And those things didn’t grow back.

His fingers pressed against Charli’s hip, halting her as they reached the door at the far end. Charli peeked over at him, frowning, her instincts too damn keen. “You all right? You’ve gone broody.”

He needed to tamp down the ugly thoughts of the past. Charli deserved his full and undivided attention tonight. If he could slip fully into his dom role and do what he did best, he should be able to shake off all the riotous feelings Charli’s presence seemed to kick up inside him. She was just a woman looking for some training and some fun. He had to keep that at the forefront of his mind.

He gave her rear a light swat. “Okay, darlin’, ready to step into my world?”

Charli sent Grant a skeptical look. Something had darkened her cowboy’s mood, but clearly he wasn’t going to talk about it with her. His whole posture said trespassers will be shot on sight, so she fought her instinct to pry.

She reached out and grabbed his hand, lacing her fingers with his. “I’m ready if you are.”

He lifted her hand to his mouth and planted a kiss on top of it, his eyes not leaving hers. “Born ready, beautiful.”

A wash of heat went through her, radiating out from the simple touch. It was as if he knew some magic code that flipped her internal switch, lighting every erogenous zone in her body. Her nipples stiffened against the soft material of her dress, and a kernel of warmth gathered between her thighs. She shook her head, amazed at how instant her response was. “I bet you could walk into the grocery store and get a stranger to strip for you with that charm of yours.”

He chuckled and tugged her close, trapping her hand between them. “You have the urge to lose your clothes already, sweet Charlotte? I must really be on my game tonight.”

Having his body pressed up against hers sent her ability for witty retorts short-circuiting. She took a shuddering breath, enveloping her senses in his natural, grass-and-sun scent.

He brushed her hair away from her forehead and tucked it behind her ear. “When we walk through this door, I expect you to become my submissive. I know this is all new to you, but look to me for your cues. Speak and act only with my permission. I’m looking forward to showing you off.”

She swallowed hard. Showing her off? What exactly would that entail? Some weird combination of nerves and wild anticipation curled like vine around her stomach, but she found herself nodding. “Yes, Grant.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, then turned her, tucking her arm into his elbow, and led her through the door.

Soft music met her ears and she blinked, adjusting to the low lighting of the room. People were milling around or sitting at small tables, all in various states of undress. Some were sporting suits and dresses like she and Grant. Others were in leather and lingerie. And a handful had nothing on at all. The mix of refined and conservative next to blatantly sexual scrambled her brain for a moment—two worlds crashing together.

As Charli was taking it all in, a man shuffled by wearing nothing but a collar and the leash his domme was tugging him by. Each time the woman yanked at the leash, the man grunted with pleasure. Unable to stop herself, Charli glanced downward and saw that his penis was trapped in what looked to be a painful contraption made of progressively smaller metal rings; something that had to prevent him from getting a full erection.

A little gasp escaped her, and she quickly looked away, feeling as if she’d intruded on the couple’s privacy. She was no blushing virgin. But in this kind of environment, her sexual experiences were about the equivalent. There were probably more naked people in this room then she’d seen in her whole life. She actually had to fight the urge to put her hands over her eyes like some kid who knew she wasn’t supposed to be watching an R-rated movie.

Grant moved his hand to the small of her back and put his lips next to her ear. “You’re so damn sexy when you blush. But try to relax. No need to be embarrassed about anything here. You can look at what you want. Watching is half the fun.”

She wet her lips, trying to tamp down the knee-jerk reaction. “It’s just…a lot to take in. It feels awkward to look. And that seems…painful.”

His fingers drew lazy circles at the small of her back as he guided her through the arrangement of tables. “It only feels awkward because you’re seeing it through a preconceived filter, that shame response we’re all taught. But if you can learn to push past that, you’ll be able to see how beautiful all of this can be. Like how enthralled that male sub was with his wife.”

She looked up at him in surprise. “They’re married?”

He smiled. “For over ten years, I think.”

She chewed on that information, and Grant stopped at a large booth. There was a small, gold plate fastened on the wall above the table that read Master Grant, but a lanky blond man had already taken up residence on one side of the booth.

When the man noticed them standing there, a smile appeared, a dazzling grin that somehow put Charli at ease in an instant—as if this stranger was someone she’d known her whole life. He stood and put out his hand to Grant. “Long time no see, my friend.”

Grant laughed. “I just bet you do.”

The two men exchanged a knowing look, and Charli realized she’d missed some private joke.

Grant put his arm around Charli again and urged her forward a tick. “Charlotte, this is Jace. He owns the store that supplies a lot of The Ranch’s equipment, and he’s also a good friend of mine.”

Jace’s gaze dipped down to her collar, his eyebrow lifting a bit. He didn’t reach for her hand but looked to Grant. “May I?”

Grant nodded, and Jace took her hand. “A pleasure.”

The way Jace looked at her—not necessarily sexual, but appraising—clued her in that he was a dom, too. He released her hand and returned his attention to Grant. “She’s lovely. Glad to see you taking a night off for a change. I thought with all the workshops on the schedule tonight, you’d be doing some demos.”

Grant guided Charli into the booth as Jace returned to his seat on the other side. Grant slid in next to her and laid a hand on her thigh, idly rubbing his thumb along her bared skin. “No. It’s so busy tonight because we have a group from an out-of-town club here for training. I put Colby in charge of coordinating everything though.”

Jace leaned back in the booth, stretching his arm along the back of it. “That’s too bad. I always learn something from your demos.”

Charli looked back and forth between the two of them, having no idea what they were talking about. Her lips parted to ask, but Grant squeezed her thigh. A warning.

Before Jace could respond, a couple stopped in front of their table. Jace turned his head and smiled at the petite dark-haired woman and the much taller Hispanic man. “Well, it’s about damn time. I thought I was going to have to go back to the cabin and drag y’all out.”

The woman rolled her eyes and crooked a thumb at her partner. “Not my fault. Andre got distracted by the new six-headed shower.” She looked over at Grant. “Nice addition, by the way.”

Grant nodded, an amused expression on his face. “Glad you enjoyed it, Evan.”

Jace rose and wrapped his arm around the woman’s waist, pulling her against him and laying a way-more-than-friendly kiss on her lips.

Charli watched them in confusion. She’d gotten the impression the two strangers were a couple. But the way the woman melted against Jace said otherwise.

When Jace released Evan, he moved around her and pressed a quick kiss to Andre’s mouth as well. “Don’t tell me she fell for the line—come and check out this new shower, baby?”

Andre’s smile was like lazy sex on summer night. “I don’t need lines, bro.”

Charli could only stare. All three of them were together?

Evan glanced over, her blue eyes widening when she noticed Charli there. “Good Lord, how rude are we? Grant has a guest.” She gently shoved Jace into the booth and slid in next to him. “I’m sorry. These two have a way of distracting me. I’m Evan. And this is Andre.”

As Andre sank into the booth, flanking Evan’s other side, Charli managed to introduce herself, her mind still absorbing the fact that this woman had managed to snag not just one but two freaking gorgeous men. And based on how Jace and Andre were looking at her, Evan hadn’t only snagged them but had their utter devotion.

Maybe Charli should take training from this chick. Was she a submissive? Her gaze drifted to Evan’s throat, but she saw no collar there.

Grant draped his arm along the back of the booth and idly played with a lock of Charli’s hair. “Go ahead and ask your questions, freckles. I see them all over your face.”

She shot a sharp look Grant’s way. Was he trying to make her look like a complete novice? Embarrass her?

He sighed. “These are my friends, Charlotte. I planned for us to sit with them so that you could see that the people who are part of this scene are just regular folks. That you don’t need to be intimidated or feel out of place.”

Evan gave her an understanding smile. “I was totally freaked out the first time I visited. I had no idea what to expect. I definitely didn’t expect to fall for these two.” She raised her arms, showing matching bracelets on each wrist. The delicate circles were pewter and aged copper woven together in a pretty pattern.

Charli stared down at the jewelry, realizing the two metals probably represented her two lovers—fair and dark. No collar, but cuffs. So Evan was their submissive. A little spark of melancholy went through Charli as she remembered the band around her neck was only made of disposable leather.

Good Lord, what’s wrong with me?

Evan sniffed and nodded toward Grant. “Hardly. But Mr. See-Right-Through-Your-Bullshit here recognized it in me before we even finished my first tour.”

Grant gave her an easy smile. “That’s my job, darlin’.”

Charli straightened, a little perturbed by Grant’s obvious warmth toward Evan. Had he offered to train her when he’d figured out she was submissive? How close were all these “friends”?

The jealousy was ugly and totally uncalled for—as if she had any claim on Grant anyway. But there it was nonetheless, setting her teeth on edge. She tried to shrug off the tightness in her shoulders. Grant’s fingers drifted from her hair to her neck and massaged.

Shyness threatened, but she remembered what he’d told her before they walked in—don’t think, only do. So after a breath of hesitation, she scooted closer to him. His palms spanned her waist and he lifted her easily over his leg and settled her between his thighs, as if she were as petite as the woman sitting across from them. A beat of pleasure went through Charli, the feeling of being small and easily handled such a rarity for her.

Grant put his hands on her shoulders and began to work at the knots that had formed there with his thumbs. A soft sigh escaped her, as the muscles yielded to his commanding fingers. If this is what being submissive was about, she’d clearly been missing out. Wasn’t she supposed to be the one serving him?

Though, honestly, massaging him wouldn’t be a hardship either. Getting her hands on all those lean, honed muscles of his would be quite the treat.

The conversation continued around her, and Grant gave her permission to speak freely with his friends. Despite that first whip of jealousy, Charli found herself liking Evan. She seemed like a no-nonsense woman with a good head on her shoulders. Not at all what she would’ve imagined a submissive woman to be like. And Evan’s two guys were like a comedy team with their easy volleys back and forth. Charli got the sense that the three of them probably created quite a cozy and loving household.

But just as Charli began to relax and mellow, the guy from the training class she’d crashed sidled up to the table. The dip in his brow said something was wrong before his mouth opened. “Hey, Boss.”

Grant straightened a bit behind her. “Colby.”

Grant made a displeased noise under his breath. “What was he supposed to feature?”

Colby was speaking a different language as far as Charli was concerned, but could feel Grant release a long breath behind her, which didn’t bode well. “Give me a minute, Colby.”

Colby nodded. “No problem. I’ll be in the staging room.”

After Colby strode off, Grant scooted out of the booth, taking her along with him. She turned to face him, her recently loosened muscles starting to coil again. Grant put a hand to her cheek. “I’m sorry, darlin’. I planned for tonight to be about getting you acclimated, but I’m going to have to take care of this first. I promised my friend Stefan that we’d train his staff well for his club opening. We don’t have anyone here besides me and Elliot who are trained in Shibari.”

With some other woman. He didn’t have to say it. She’d pieced together Colby’s conversation. “Oh.”

She gritted her teeth. She’d been through the gauntlet of beauty treatments today, had been twisted up with nerves all evening, and now he was going to send her home so he could tie up some other naked woman? Oh, hell no. Her freshly polished nails dug into her palms as she tried to frame her retort to match her role. “Sir, Grant, you set up tonight as my opportunity to serve you, correct?”

His mouth thinned, no doubt noticing her words had come through clenched teeth. “Yes, Charlotte. But—”

Either Jace or Andre coughed behind her, obviously covering up a laugh or a sound of surprise. She didn’t bother to look back at them, her eyes fixated on Grant. He crossed his arms, staring down at her, his expression a mix of things she couldn’t name. “Charlotte, you struggled standing naked in front of me the other day. You’re not ready to do that in front of a room full of people.”

Naked? In front of a crowd?

Her heart hammered against her ribs, her palms going sweaty at the thought. But she matched his posture and jutted out her chin. “Maybe you’re underestimating me, sir.”

He leaned closer, his voice going low and dangerous. “You’re treading a fine line, freckles. I’m doing this to protect you from something you’re not prepared for.”

Red edged her vision.

Screw that.

Without breaking eye contact, she lowered herself until she was kneeling on the cold floor at his feet. “I don’t share, Grant. Add that to my hard limits. If you send me away, I won’t need my cabin anymore.”

The music and ambient conversation in the club seemed to fade as her challenge hung in the air between them. Grant stared down at her, the muscle in his jaw twitching. Power and anger seemed to drip off him, the impact of it splashing down over her like fat raindrops. She’d threatened him, and he didn’t like it. Adrenaline leaked into her system, giving her that panicky rush that usually only preceded things like that slow climb on a roller coaster before the big drop.

He leaned forward, his evaluating gaze coming closer. She looked down at her lap, the response automatic. He grabbed her hair and forced her face back upward. “Don’t play demure now. That’s not going to get you out of trouble. Talking back and cursing? You’re lucky this is your first night because otherwise I’d take you over my knee right this second in front of everyone.”

Breath became hard to come by, and her limbs tingled as if blood had forgotten to flow. She managed a whispered “I’m sorry, sir.”

His grip tightened against her scalp. “Oh, sweet Charlotte, this is going to be fun.”

FOURTEEN

Grant led Charli to what he’d called the staging room. Her legs barely wanted to cooperate beneath her as she tried to keep up with his purposeful pace. She was really going to do this. She was going to let Grant get her naked and tie her up in front of an audience. She inhaled deeply through her nose, the combination of nerves and strange anticipation making her brain fuzzy.

Inside the staging room, Colby was standing with his back to them at a nearby table, laying out different lengths of rope, and a curvy, dark-skinned woman sat on the couch closest to him, her gaze down, her hands folded neatly in her lap—the picture of demure beauty. An inviting smile crossed the woman’s lips when she peeked up and noticed Grant. Charli wanted to throw a right hook her way.

The door clicked shut behind them, and Colby turned. “Oh, hey, Boss. Nyla is rea—”

Colby’s gaze went to Charli, a hint of surprise crossing his features. “Sure, you got it, Boss.” He nodded at Nyla. “Go back to Master Elliot. I’m sure he would appreciate your comfort while he’s sick. Tell him we appreciated his willingness to lend you to us tonight. And if his fever gets any higher, you call in the doctor even if he orders you not to.”

Nyla’s perfect posture sagged a bit, her relief evident. “Thank you, sir. And don’t worry. I know how hardheaded he can be. I’ll keep an eye on him.”

Nyla peeked at Charli once more, obviously curious but too polite to stare, then headed out the back door.

Grant’s hands landed on Charli’s shoulders, causing her to jump. His breath tickled her ear. “Take off the dress.”

Her attention slid toward Colby, who was winding another rope but watching her and Grant closely. Words stuttered and stumbled in her mouth, but none made it out.

Grant stepped around her and crossed his arms. “Scared of Colby seeing you naked? In a little while, he’s going to be one of many.”

She wet her lips, her heartbeat going staccato. She was scared, but that wasn’t the only thing stirring inside her. Desire coiled low and hot in her belly.

She glared at him. “Yes, Grant.”

He stepped back and released her arms, making room for Colby. Colby put his hands on her waist as he moved behind her, his touch surprisingly gentle for a man who looked like he could snap a two-by-four like a twig. His voice was low enough for only her to hear it. “You may want to drop the eat-shit-and-die look you’re giving him, sweetheart. You’re pushing his buttons, and there’s a lot he can do to you once you’re tied up and incapacitated.”

Goose bumps prickled her skin at the warning. She lowered her gaze, and Colby went to work untying the corset-style fastening of her dress. The backs of his fingers grazed the sides of her breasts as he grabbed the soft fabric and drew it down her body. She closed her eyes, trying to quell her nerves and self-consciousness. Colby tapped her calf and she stepped out of the dress, leaving her completely exposed for the two of them.

Colby circled around and smiled as he openly peered at her nudity, somehow managing to convey warm appreciation instead of lewdness. “That full-body blush of yours is one of the sexiest damn things I’ve seen, sweetheart.”

She dipped her head, her blush deepening no doubt. But the compliment made her feel more steady on her feet. A little sexy, even.

He turned to Grant. “I would say you’re a lucky guy, Boss, but I have a feeling you’re going to have your hands full with this one.”

Grant didn’t smile or even look at Colby. His focus was solely on her, his burning hot perusal turning her quivery and wet. His gaze tracked down to the juncture between her thighs, and she had the urge to shield herself. He’d ordered her to be waxed, and nothing but a trimmed triangle of hair at the top was left. There was no hiding how he was affecting her.

His eyes met hers. “I’m looking forward to the challenge.”

Colby clapped him on the shoulder and chuckled, his easy nature a stark contrast next to Grant’s stoicism. “I’ll get these ropes set up. I’ll let you know when the group is ready.”

Grant waited until Colby left the room, then took a few steps closer. He palmed her waist, then tucked his other hand between her legs, finding her damp heat. He grazed her already throbbing clit. “You’re so fucking gorgeous right now. I wish you could see yourself through my eyes. You would never doubt your feminine wiles again.”

A harsh breath escaped her as he slipped two fingers inside her. She put a hand to his shoulder, steadying herself, his words knocking her off balance as much as his touch. “Thank you.”

A few strokes and she’d be there.

But instead of continuing, he gave her nipple a soft bite and pulled his hand away. The corners of his mouth lifted into a sly grin. “Not so fast, darlin’.”

He put his fingers in his mouth and sucked slowly, tasting her arousal and keeping his eyes on her. The satisfied sound he made in the back of his throat lit her body on fire. “Mmm, you’re so tempting. But you haven’t earned that orgasm yet. Not with that smart mouth you’ve been using tonight.”

He took a step back, removing himself from her reach. She felt the loss of him immediately, cool, empty air replacing his scent and warmth. “I’m sorry, Grant. The thought of you tying up some other woman…”

She stopped, realizing she’d spoken her thought aloud, a thought that revealed how possessive she felt of him already.

His expression remained placid, but the flare in his eyes and the erection pushing at the fly of his perfectly tailored slacks said he was anything but. “Finish your sentence.”

She cringed but forced her vocal cords to work. “The thought made me mad. And jealous.”

He seemed to consider that for a moment, his head tilting ever so slightly. “Interesting. Kneel down.”

She responded in an instant and attempted to rock down gracefully. Her knees hit the polished wood floors with barely a sound. Yeah, buddy. She fought back a proud smile.

He nodded in approval as he walked a slow circle around her, like an animal sizing up its prey. He stopped in front of her again. “Very nice. Get used to holding that kneel.”

He stepped back a few feet but continued to watch her as he slipped his suit coat off his shoulders—a slow, fluid motion of a man in no hurry. He folded the jacket and laid it neatly over the arm of the couch, smoothing out an errant wrinkle. Next, he pulled at the knot on his tie, the soft silk-against-silk sound the only noise in the room. His movements stayed methodical, deliberate—his stare unyielding. With each removed item, Charli found her heartbeat ticking up a notch. She moistened her lips. Was he going to take off everything? Was she finally going to get to see all of him, touch him?

He ran the silk tie over his palm with an oh-the-things-I-could-do look on his face, and she could almost feel its smoothness against her own skin. What would it feel like against her wrists, her ankles? But he laid it across his suit coat, leaving it unused. His long fingers went to his cuff links and he unfastened the buttons at his wrists. Clink. Clink. The cuff links hit the glass side table, startling Charli.

Grant gave her a wicked smile as he rolled the sleeves of his white dress shirt up his forearms. “Am I making you nervous, Charlotte?”

He ran the pad of this thumb over her mouth, and without pausing to think, she parted her lips and sucked. The dark blue in his eyes went almost black as he let her lick his salty skin. Seeing his response sent a hot rush through her, an ache. Knowing she could do that to him with such a simple act felt…invigorating.

In the past, she’d hated giving blow jobs. It’d always felt like a chore or a favor. Plus, Trey had always come too fast, then wouldn’t be interested in sex for the rest of the night.

But right then, there was nothing she wanted more than to unzip Grant’s slacks and take him in her mouth. The desire to give him that pleasure was as strong as her own need to be touched. Let me please you. The urge was entirely foreign, but her hormones were buzzing too strongly for her to examine it any deeper.

He brushed her hair away from her face with gentle fingers. “This is only supposed to be an intro training. But you’re making it very hard for me to restrain myself, Charlotte, especially when you look at me like that.”

She swallowed hard. This world, his world, scared her on some elemental level. But instead of making her want to run, the fear was like a heady elixir filtering through her blood, spiking it. She didn’t want training wheels. She wanted Grant. The real Grant. “Please don’t give me the watered-down version of yourself, sir. I’m a big girl and understand the safe word.”

He shook his head as he twined her hair around his hand. Once. Twice. “I really did have you pegged all wrong, freckles. That’s a first.” His grip was snug, making her scalp sting. “The fear feeds you, doesn’t it? That’s why you’re always chasing some edge.”

She tried to shake her head, denying the accusation but not even fully processing what he was saying.

The sharp command was like a lightning strike to her system, sending her into some new dimension she was sure she hadn’t visited before. She did as she was told, fumbling for a moment, before getting the button undone and the zipper down. His cock pushed through the opening in his boxers, hard and thick…and pretty, if cocks could be classified as such. Oh, God, yes. No longer thinking, just acting on her own impulses, she nuzzled her cheek against him, inhaling his scent, relishing the velvety skin of his shaft.

He groaned softly, his fingers flexing in her hair. “Open, Charlotte. I need to feel you around me.”

The need spoken matched her own. She parted her lips, and he guided her into the position he wanted. His cock slid hot against her tongue, his masculine taste activating something wholly carnal inside her. She closed her eyes, savoring him for a moment, then moved forward to take more. But he held her fast.

She lifted her gaze to him, her insides flipping over when their eyes met. The unfettered want in his expression was like a palpable blow to her body.

Yet. The warning whispered through her and bloomed like a hothouse flower inside her. He was in control of her destiny here. Yes, he was going to share the sight of her with the audience, but she knew sharing could mean a lot more than that at The Ranch. She’d seen the limits checklist. Hadn’t marked no on any of those boxes. Though some of those items had given her pause, she wasn’t into half-assed. She’d agreed to give him the control, so she was going to let him use it.

She held the eye contact as she moved back and forth along his length. He took his time, the intense expression on his face a reward in and of itself. His sexuality was so raw, so close to the surface. Seeing it start to leak through that thin societal veneer fed something deep and dark within her, made her crave more. What was Grant like when he shed that layer completely?

He released the harsh hold on her hair and spanned his palms along the sides of her head, his tempo increasing. Every time his cock tapped the back of her throat, her sex clenched. But instead of feeling impatient for her own release, she was enjoying the slow burn that was overtaking her. It was like being enveloped by the sun-warmed ocean one agonizing inch at a time.

Grant’s gaze never left hers, and she found herself falling into those blue depths, their surroundings blurring into the background. It was only the two of them and this one moment. Her eyelids fluttered closed.

Grant smacked her cheek, light but attention-getting. She blinked up at him—surprised that he’d hit her face, but more shocked that it’d sent a hot dart of need straight downward.

He rubbed a thumb over her cheekbone. “That’s the risk and beauty of setting no limits, Charlotte. I get to find your edges. Dangerous game to play with me.”

Dangerous, indeed. Especially when each time he pushed at those boundaries, she found herself wanting to vault over them, to see what was on the other side.

She shifted forward and took him as deep as she could, holding the eye contact and sliding the tip of her tongue along the base of his cock. He let out a groan and she slid back, oh-so-gently dragging her teeth along his tender skin, dishing out a little bit of his own medicine.

The wildness in him broke through. The sight took her breath away and made every part of her throb. Her nipples brushed against the fabric of his pants with each thrust and she started to wonder if it was possible to come simply from that and the pressure of her thighs squeezing together. She moaned around him and that sent him over the cliff.

He shoved his cock deep to the back of her throat, and with a slew of swear words mixing with her name, his hot release pulsed into her. She took all he had to give, digging her nails into her thighs, and holding back her own orgasm.

After a few panted seconds, he slipped from her mouth and tucked himself back into his dress pants. His gaze skated down her body. She couldn’t slow her breathing. Her skin felt so sensitized, and everything was throbbing in time with her heartbeat. How in the hell had he done this to her with a simple blow job?

There was a sharp rap on the door, drawing her focus to the other side of the room.

Colby stepped through the doorway, his gaze landing on Charli, then darting back to Grant. “Everything’s all set up, Boss. Need anything else?”

When Grant didn’t respond immediately, Charli looked back to him, finding her cowboy smiling darkly.

Fuck. She felt like a grenade with the pin stuck—ready to detonate, but unable to without that final pull.

God, yes. “Please.”

He grabbed the tie he’d discarded earlier from the arm of the couch and stepped behind her, fastening her wrists at the small of her back. The move had her breasts jutting out and fully exposed to Colby, who’d stayed near the doorway. The wolfish grin that crossed Colby’s face had her belly fluttering.

Grant slid a hot palm along her ass and sat his chin on her shoulder, his stubble sending goose bumps along her skin. “You know, Colby? Before I agreed to take her on myself, my lovely Charlotte asked to be trained by you.”

Colby’s eyebrow lifted. “Is that right? Well, color me flattered.”

Colby took a step toward them.

She forgot to breathe.

Charli’s heart hammered hard against her ribs. Grant was going to let another man touch her. She could stop it. She could use the safe word. But the thought of them both was only making her wetter. It was the stuff of fantasies, but no one really acted on those, right?

Grant had told her to put trust in him, that whatever he told her to do was for their mutual benefit. And for some reason, she felt compelled to listen. Plus, in her world, men didn’t look at her like this. Having two potently handsome men treating her like she was some sort of siren was damn hot.

Colby’s hazel eyes searched hers, obviously double-checking that she was on board with this. When she didn’t say a word, he closed the distance between them and lowered his head. Moist heat wrapped around her nipple as Colby took her flesh into his mouth. She cried out at the sudden rush of sensation, her nerves humming like a power line ready to spark. Grant’s hand continued to cradle her breast, holding her in place for Colby’s attention, and he trailed kisses along the curve of her neck.

The sight of Colby’s lips moving over her skin and Grant’s long, tan fingers stroking her breast was erotic overload. Her clit pulsed between her thighs, blood pumping to all her most sensitive parts. Grant pressed his teeth into her shoulder until she felt the snap of pain race through her. “You’re so goddamned responsive, freckles. You’re getting me hard all over again.”

He licked the spot he’d bitten, then stepped out from behind her. His gaze branded her as he took in the full frontal view of her naked and bound, another man sucking her nipple to a hard, aching point. Grant reached out and pinched her other nipple. She bit back another yelp.

He smiled and nudged Colby over a bit. “You have permission to come.”

The hot cavern of Grant’s mouth closed over the other aching bud, sucking and nibbling without pretense of gentleness. Whereas Colby was playful and teasing, Grant was unrelenting intensity. Her body bucked and her arms strained to reach out and grab the two men, but the tie didn’t give.

Grant gripped her waist, steadying her. Moisture painted her thighs, her need for all of him turning her inside out. If he would just touch her clit, slide his fingers inside her, she’d be able to get there. She wriggled against his hand, trying to convey that message. But he smacked her thigh hard. Then, the two men bit down simultaneously, and every knotted part inside her came unraveled in one blissful moment.

She screamed, the combination of pain and wicked pleasure launching her into orgasm. Her sex pulsed in time with her pounding heart, and her breath came in sharp bursts. The sensation was different than a normal climax, sharp and fast, a release that somehow satisfied and made her ache for more at the same time.

The men switched to gentle licks and her knees wobbled beneath her.

Colby backed off, and Grant gathered her to him. Her head sagged against his chest, his words crashing over her.

I won’t let you fall.

If only he could truly guarantee that. She already felt her world tilting, and it had nothing to do with her shaky legs.

FIFTEEN

Grant waited until Charli’s breathing returned to normal, then wrapped a silk robe around her shoulders and kissed the crown of her head. She gave him a faint smile as she tucked her arms into the robe.

She glanced at the doorway Colby had used to exit. “Nothing, really. I guess I just never would’ve pegged you as the sharing type.”

She tied the robe’s belt around her waist and sent him a sly look. “You have spoiled, only child written all over you.”

He smirked, though the words niggled a sore spot inside him. “I’m the eldest of four actually. Two sisters and a brother. And though my momma tried, my daddy would’ve never let her get away with spoiling us.”

She tilted her head, as if thrown by the revelation, and leaned against the wall. “Wow, one of four. Never would’ve guessed that. Are you close to your family?”

He grabbed a switchblade sharp enough to cut through rope and hooked it to belt. “Last I checked this isn’t interview time, Ms. Reporter.”

The little huff she made would’ve brought a smile to his face under any other circumstance, but her line of questioning was sending him to that guilty place he didn’t like to visit.

He turned around, pinning her with a fierce look. “Yes. That’s how this works. We’re not on a date, Charli. This isn’t get-to-know-you time.”

Her jaw flexed, a wounded expression flitting over her features before she covered it.

Ah, hell. Now he felt like a dick. This is why he avoided pillow talk at all costs. It never led anywhere good. But Charli hadn’t earned his ire. “Fine. Yes, sometimes I like to share. Knowing someone is mine and I have the say on who can and can’t touch her turns me on. But that’s not to say I’m not possessive.”

She nodded, a little I-told-you-so playing at the corners of her mouth. “So, I was right. You are selfish.”

The sympathy that crossed over her face dug through him like a trowel. She wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her head to his chest. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pried.”

He rubbed her back, enjoying holding her maybe a little too much. “You don’t have to apologize. I should’ve expected it. You’re nosy by nature.”

He grabbed her belt and pulled, opening her robe and pressing her against him. “Nosy. And naughty as all get out, I might add.” He slipped his hands onto her bared waist. “Likes to be shared, gets off on a little fear, and has a body that responds like it was meant for this. You’re a surprise at every corner, freckles.”

He pinched her hip, earning him a delicious yelp. “Come on, smart-ass. Let’s get this demo over with. If I have to wait much longer to get you in my dungeon, I’ll end up fucking you in front of everyone out there.”

There it was. That flare of heat and fear lighting her eyes. The desire in him swelled, feeding on it. It was a drug he could get used to imbibing.

She wet her lips, and he stared at her mouth, wanting to kiss her, to taste that need from her. The thought punched him in the sternum—the shock of that old, now-alien desire almost knocking him on his ass.

He didn’t do kissing. Beyond the occasional friendly peck, it was off limits. The act always seemed too tender, too personal, a betrayal to the memory of the last woman he kissed.

He cupped Charli’s cheek and brushed a thumb over her lips, but held back from putting his mouth on hers. What was it about this girl that made him want to break all his rules? He sighed and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Time to get you trussed up, darlin’.”

Grant led Charli out of the staging room and into one of the training rooms where a small audience waited for them. Charli tensed beneath his grip when she stepped into the spotlighted area. He’d anticipated some fear and kept her close to his side. “Breathe, freckles. You look beautiful. These people are lucky that they get the privilege of seeing you.”

She nodded, though he could feel the harried beat of her heart at her wrist. “Sorry. The last time I was paraded onstage like this was when I was eight and my mother forced me into a beauty pageant. I tripped, tore my dress, and all the other kids laughed at me.”

Her tone was light, but the pain he could hear beneath it twisted something in his chest. He halted her at the center of the small platform and pulled the tie he’d used to bind her arms earlier from his pocket. He put his knuckle beneath her chin, keeping her attention on him and not on the people in the crowd. “Charlotte, I’m going to blindfold you.”

Her eyes widened.

He watched her throat work as she swallowed. “But what if I mess something up?”

He frowned. Her desire to do everything exactly right was damn endearing, but he hated to see the stress creasing her brow. “Relax, darlin’. Nothing you could do up here will disappoint me. No one is here to judge you or laugh at you. You could safe word the minute the rope touches your skin and everyone would understand. All right?”

She nodded, though doubt still lingered in her eyes. “Yes, Grant.”

She shivered, but to her credit, kept her posture proud.

He put a hand to her shoulder to ground her and guided her to a resting kneel. “If at any time something goes numb, becomes painful, or makes you feel panicked, use your words. Yellow means I’ll back off and check in with you. Say Texas and I’m cutting the ropes off and kicking everyone out. There’s no shame in using either.”

She released a shaky breath. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”

He kissed the spot on her shoulder where his hand had been, then straightened and stepped to the side to face the audience. He started off talking about the lengths of ropes, why hemp was usually preferred, how to soften the rope by boiling it. It was all relatively dry stuff, but having Charli naked and kneeling in his peripheral vision had his skin prickling with awareness. She looked so damn tempting, her color easing slowly from the pink flush of embarrassment back to her natural freckled alabaster. She was sinking into the zone he needed her in. Focused. Ready for whatever he needed from her. Submissive.

He ran the length of rope along his palm as he answered a few questions from the audience. What he wouldn’t give to grab Charli and take her somewhere private. Though he liked a little exhibitionism and sharing every now and then, he preferred his D/s behind closed doors, enjoyed the sacred space it created between the dominant and submissive. And with Charli he was suddenly craving that more than ever.

He glanced over at his pretty sub. She’d lowered her head, shielding her face with that silky red curtain of hair. A wave of possessiveness went over him, and he found himself resenting the audience for being present. He wanted to tie her up for his eyes only. He wanted to run the rope along her soft skin, sensitize her, have her quivering and bound and begging for release. His cock pushed against his zipper as the images flitted through his head.

But he wouldn’t give these strangers that gift. That would be his.

Deciding to cut the presentation as short as possible, he headed over to Charli and began to demonstrate a few of the basic tying techniques, binding her wrists and ankles in a few easy-for-beginners options. Then he tied her arms behind her with a series of double-coin knots, making a line down from her shoulders all the way to her wrists.

With each new knot, Grant could see Charli’s breathing becoming more shallow, could feel her skin warming even though the room was cool. Some people panicked in rope bindings because it could feel more restrictive than cuffs, more claustrophobic, but Charli seemed to be having the opposite reaction. He could sense her sinking deeper into herself, any lingering anxiety draining from her.

Pride ballooned in his chest. His little trainee was quite the protégé. Despite her obvious issues with being exposed in front of others, she’d listened to his instructions and blocked everything out. She was only there with him, no one else. He finished the last knot and gave her shoulder a soft bite before whispering, “I can’t even tell you how fucking perfect you look right now, sweet Charlotte. I’m the luckiest guy in the joint.”

She flexed against her bindings, and her teeth dragged over her bottom lip.

Hell, based on how he was feeling at this moment, he may not want to ever share her again.

Charli listened to Grant wrap up the demonstration with only half an ear. Her arms were still bound behind her, her breasts no doubt jutting forth for all to see, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care. The audience’s presence had melted away in her mind. Grant’s steady voice, his sure hands as he tied the ropes, the feel of his callused fingers brushing over her skin, his scent…Those were the only things she could focus on. And with each passing minute, her body’s awareness of him became more and more acute.

His slow footsteps sounded in her ears and she stretched her fingers, wishing she could reach out and touch him, explore. He stopped in front of her, his pant leg brushing her knee, then his voice was close enough for her to feel his breath on her cheeks. “We’re all alone again, Charlotte.”

He untied the blindfold and she blinked at him, the sudden light leaving spots in her vision. “They’re gone?”

He was squatting in front of her, want in his eyes. “You didn’t hear all that commotion as everyone left?”

She shook her head, still feeling a bit dazed.

He smiled and cupped her breast, circling his thumb around the tip and making her shiver. “So you can lose yourself to it.” Deep satisfaction colored his tone. “You’re getting a taste of subspace, freckles. I hope to bring you there often.”

She didn’t know what the term meant, but if he kept caressing her nipple like that, she wasn’t going to be able to remember her name in a second.

He rose off his haunches and moved around behind her. “Let me get you out of this, then I’m taking you where I can have you all to myself.”

After he removed all of the ropes, he slipped her robe back on her shoulders and tied the belt around her waist. “Be right back.”

He left her there while he went into the staging room. When he returned a few minutes later, he was wearing jeans and boots and holding the bag he’d asked her to pack this morning. He held it out to her. “You’re allowed to put on panties and shoes for now. My dungeon isn’t in this building. We have to go outside.”

She raised her eyebrows, but took the bag and followed his instructions, slipping on a pair of simple black panties beneath the robe and toeing on her ballet flats. “Okay.”

He grabbed her hand and kissed the top of it. “Our chariot awaits, sweet Charlotte.”

Chariot? She had no idea what he meant by that, but as he led her down a few hallways and out a side door, the last thing she’d expected was standing outside waiting for them—waiting and…chuffing. “Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Grant gave a hearty laugh. “Watch your mouth, freckles. Maggie here will be offended.”

The horse turned a big eye on Charli, while Grant ran an affectionate hand down Maggie’s blue-black flank. “Sorry, it’s just I’m not exactly dressed for horseback riding.”

Grant checked Maggie’s saddle, then put out a hand to Charli. “You’re fine. It’s warm enough tonight and it will be quicker than walking. Plus, it’s more fun than the golf cart.”

With a sigh, she gave Grant her hand, and he helped her get her foot in the stirrup. He counted to three, then hoisted her up so she could mount the horse. Maggie stirred beneath her but otherwise seemed totally content with a half-naked stranger climbing on top of her. Charli snorted.

He shook his head. “Yeah, I’m not touching that one.”

With the grace of a man who’d done it a thousand times before, Grant put his boot in the stirrup and swung his leg over, filling the space behind Charli. The heat of his chest seared through the thin silk of her robe, making every inch of her reignite with awareness. He reached around her and grabbed the reins, cocooning her with his scent. He nuzzled her ear, his voice low. “Hold on, freckles.”

She grabbed onto the saddle horn, and Grant made a soft clicking sound to get Maggie moving. Charli gripped hard as the horse made its way down the slant in the path. “Whoa.”

He led Maggie away from the main building and toward the back of the property. Cabins dotted the area to the left, but Grant stayed off the walking paths and instead weaved along the fences protecting the vineyards. The rows of grapevines seemed to stretch out forever under the moonlight. “How is it Ms. Rough-and-Tumble has never been horseback riding?”

She adjusted her grip on the saddle horn, her fingers starting to hurt from grabbing it so hard. “I grew up in the suburbs. Riding four-wheelers was about as country as I got.”

She sniffed. “Cute would probably not be the most accurate description. And I didn’t get to do those things with my brothers. My dad was of the lock-daughter-up-until-she’s-twenty mentality. I’d have to sneak out and play with the neighborhood boys and tell Dad I was playing with Barbies.”

What about her? was the first retort that jumped to her lips, but she bit it back, taking a long breath and staring out at the dark night in front of them. The last thing she wanted to do was talk about her mother, but she’d asked Grant some prying questions earlier, and it was only fair that she give him a little honesty, too. “My mom moved to Los Angeles when I was nine to help my older sister pursue her acting career. I wanted to go with them and be on TV, too, but mom told me the talent agent said I didn’t have the right look.”

The muscles in Grant’s forearms twitched as he gripped the reins tighter, but he stayed silent.

She cleared her throat, trying to move past the lump that always lodged there when she thought about the day her mom walked out. “It was supposed to be temporary—my mom living out her own failed dream through my sister. But my sister landed a part in a kid’s show, and my mother landed a spot in the director’s bed. They came home the next Thanksgiving, and Mom told Dad she was leaving him. Us. Neither she nor my sister ever came home again. It was like we didn’t even exist for her anymore.”

Grant kissed her shoulder. “I’m sorry, darlin’. I didn’t mean to bring up something that would upset you.”

She took a few seconds, waiting for the burning sensation of more impending tears to abate, then rolled her neck, trying to shake off the bad memories. “It’s okay. It just makes me angry that he wasted the rest of his life loving someone who wasn’t going to love him back. He was a great man. He could’ve found someone else and had another chance at being happy.”

Grant turned quiet for a moment, and the only sound was hooves hitting the packed dirt. She thought he’d ended the discussion, but finally he said, “Sounds like she was the love of his life. Sometimes there’s no coming back from that.”

She scoffed. “That’s bullshit. Something doesn’t work out, so you roll over and wait to die? Screw that.”

Her jaw clenched—as if she needed a reminder of her piss-poor love life. “You know I haven’t. But based on what I’ve seen, they can keep it.”

She frowned. She doubted Grant had even crossed into his forties yet, but she had a feeling he wasn’t talking about his age in years. He’d seen a lot of hurt in his life; he wore it in his eyes. Part of her wanted to ask him if he’d ever been in love, but she had a feeling she already knew the answer. And it wouldn’t be a happy story. She pushed away the melancholy thought and straightened her spine. “Well, good thing I’m only using you for your body and not trying to woo you then, Mr. Cynical.”

She laughed and poked him in the thigh.

He stopped Maggie in front of a fence and, after making sure Charli was still holding on, dismounted in one fluid motion. He tied the horse to the post, then helped her with her own awkward disembarkation. She landed with an unladylike thunk and almost toppled onto her butt. He grabbed her waist and held her steady. “Whoa, there.”

His thumb brushed her lips, and a shade of sadness crossed his features. “I’m living the life that works for me. I have everything I need.”

She looked back toward the main house, which was only a few squares of light from this distance. Of course he had everything he needed—a beautiful home and property, all the money he could want, and gorgeous women lining up to be with him. Most men would switch places with him in a second. But she sensed a deep loneliness behind his words.

She stepped closer and wound her arms around his waist, wishing she could peek inside her cowboy’s brain. “But what about what you want?”

His lips curved a bit as he stared down at her. “Right now what I want is rubbing her body up against me and making me forget what we were talking about.”

She laughed, loving that he could make her feel like a vixen with a few simple words. “I’m that distracting, huh?”

She couldn’t help the yeah, right snort that escaped her. “Sexy body? There are twelve-year-olds who have more curves than me.”

His gaze turned lethal. “That just earned you a punishment, Charlotte. I’m getting real tired of you dismissing my compliments.”

She winced. “I’m sorry. It’s just…”

He set her down on her feet, cutting off her words, and grabbed her upper arm, the light mood from a moment before gone. “Let’s go.”

He led her away from Maggie and toward the wooden building looming against the dark skyline. “Where are you taking me?”

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.