Fall Into You

This was ridiculous. Grant had horses that would approach at his subtlest signal. Had owned dogs he’d been able to train in a matter of hours. Hell, he could walk over to The Ranch, snap his fingers, and a line of subs would be kneeling at his feet in half a second. But this cat—this cat was topping him.

He picked up the food bowl he’d set out earlier and shook it in Tom’s direction. “Come on. You must be hungry.”

God knows the cat had emptied all the contents of his stomach in that carrier on the way over. Grant’s truck was never going to smell the same.

The front door squeaked, and Grant peered through the pass-through to find Charli stepping inside. She closed the door behind her, set her bags down, and then sagged against the solid wood, shutting her eyes and running her hands over her face.

The simple despair of the move sent all his worry sensors going off. The cat forgotten, he headed out of the kitchen and into the lamp-lit living room. “Hey, you okay?”

She startled, her lids flying open and her hand going to her chest. “Grant.”

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.” He crooked a thumb at the kitchen. “I had stopped in to check on the cat.”

“Oh.”

He took in her red-rimmed eyes, her pale cheeks, and moved closer. Tentatively. He wanted to touch her, to protect her from whatever it was that had put her in this state, but knew that would be a supremely unwise move. “Did something else happen?”

She pushed off the door and shook her head. “No, nothing like that. I’m fine.”

“Well, obviously something’s upset you.”

“I appreciate your concern, but can we not talk about this?” She grabbed her bags, took a wide step around him, and made her way toward the kitchen.

His jaw flexed as he held back the demand to know more. He’d said he’d give her space and already he was itching to push her for information. He rolled his shoulders, trying to shake off his instinct to control the situation, and followed her into the kitchen. “I’m not trying to pry, but I need you to be an open book when it comes to any strange things happening, any threats, any information that may help us figure out who’s after you. That’s why you’re here.”

“I get it. But there’s nothing to report. I’ve had a long day. I’m tired. My boss is a dick. End of story.” She set her canvas grocery bags on the counter and started unloading things. “I want to have a glass of wine, watch some mindless TV, and go to bed.”

“No television in here.”

“What?” She sounded truly horrified but didn’t turn around.

“People come here to relax and get away, not to watch Lifetime movies.”

“Fabulous. Guess I’ll be watching on my computer then.”

He grabbed the bottle of the merlot she’d set on the counter and grimaced when he read the label. “Darlin’, I can’t let you drink this. It’s crap.”

She glanced back at him over her shoulder. “It’s fine. It was on sale, and I’ve had it before.”

He unscrewed the top and sniffed. God-awful as he expected. He tilted the bottle over the sink and poured. “You’d be better off drinking grape soda.”

“Hey!” She turned around and made a grab for the bottle, but most of it was already swirling down the drain. “I spent ten bucks on that.”

“They robbed you. I’ll bring over a bottle of my own stock. I promise you it’s worth more than ten bucks and will go down a lot smoother.”

She slammed the bottle down on the counter and shot him a look that could wilt flowers. “Goddammit. You said you weren’t going to hover, and already you’re controlling my alcohol selections? Back off, cowboy. I’ve had enough of people telling me what I can and can’t do today.”

He knew he should listen. Clearly she was on edge. But she looked so decadent right then—color back in her cheeks, fire in her eyes, the small curves of her breasts rising and falling with her frustrated breaths. He could tell she wanted to lash out even more, that she wanted to take out her day on someone. She needed a release, and though he’d prefer to lift her up on that counter and show her a more fun way of letting go of all that energy, he knew that wasn’t an option. So he was willing to field her wrath if it took that wrinkle out of her brow.

“So you had a bad day,” he said, crossing his arms and leaning against the edge of the sink, purposely prodding her.

She narrowed her eyes, then turned back to her groceries, ignoring his statement. “Where’s Tom?”

“Above you,” Grant said, nodding at the ball of fur squeezed between the ceiling and tops of the cabinets. “I was trying to get him down when you came in, but he was less than cooperative.”

She tilted her head back and looked up. “Oh, good Lord, Tommy. Get down from there.”

She made some kissing and cooing sounds and in an instant, the cat slinked to the far end of the space, hopped to the top of the refrigerator, then down onto the counter to Charli’s awaiting arms.

Grant shook his head. He’d been trying to do the same for half an hour and had been convinced the cat was stuck. Apparently, Tom was as strong-headed as his owner.

She set Tom on the floor, and Grant saw the flicker of sadness behind the stoic mask she’d put on after she’d realized he was in the cabin. But as quickly as it was there, it was gone. “I know we don’t know each other very well, Charli, but I can be a pretty good ear if you need one. You don’t have to put on a happy face on my account.”

She glanced up at him, and for a moment, he thought he’d gotten through, but her expression went smooth as glass again. “Thanks, but I told you, I’m fine. Why don’t you lay those rules on me? It’s getting late.”

So, she was going with the brush-off. Fine.

He’d let her get away with it…for now.

But if he was going to protect her, she needed to trust him.

Usually not a problem. Gaining a woman’s trust was his stock and trade. Unfortunately, this time he was going to have to figure out how to do it without restraints and a firm spanking.

Charli kept her back to Grant, loading the few items she’d bought at the market into a cabinet and the refrigerator and trying to regain her composure. When Grant had looked at her, she’d had the uncanny sense that he was seeing to the root of her, seeing every ugly fear and vulnerability, every hurt and trauma. She didn’t like it. At all.

She was too on edge after the disaster of a day to deal with someone like him. One errant word or look and she’d spill her guts on the floor like some damned therapy session. Oh, poor me. Not only did I not get the job I’ve been dreaming of all my life, but oh, yeah, people find it hard to even watch me on television. Talk about humiliating. Why not just put her in a prom dress and dump some pig’s blood on her?

“Right, the rules,” Grant said in that baritone that seemed to vibrate through her rib cage. “Pretty simple. You give me your schedule, where you’re going to be. If you deviate from that, you call me and let me know ahead of time. You send me a text message letting me know when you arrive at work and when you’re leaving. I’m putting a GPS tracking device on your rental car as a backup in case I can’t get in touch with you and you need help.”

She shuddered, flashbacks of her teen years rolling through her mind—the constant checking in and explaining herself to her dad and brothers. “Don’t you think that’s a little overboard?”

He frowned. “Hopefully, it is. I hope that none of this is necessary. But I’m not willing to take a chance.”

She sighed. “Right.”

“As for when you’re here, feel free to explore the grounds, but stay on this side of the property. That long fence along the eastern edge divides the winery from the resort. Members only on the other side.”

She glanced back at him, eyebrow lifted. “Seriously?”

“Is that a problem?”

“No, it’s not like I’m here for a vacation. I just didn’t realize it was exclusive with a capital E.” She grabbed a bag of chips and opened them, her lack of dinner finally hitting her. “You’re not housing the mob over there or something, are you?”

He pushed off the counter to rise to his full height and smiled. “No, nothing so sinister.”

She eyed him, sensing he wasn’t telling her everything, but his smile didn’t falter. She held out the bag of chips. “Want some?”

Instead of taking a chip from the bag, he plucked the one from between her fingertips and popped it in his mouth. “The resort’s room service is available on this side, too—twenty-four-seven. There’s a menu in the desk drawer. Dial three on the phone and you can get anything delivered to your door, no charge.”

“Oh, that’s really generous, but I think I’m covered.”

“A woman can’t live by cheap wine and ham sandwiches alone. I’ll make sure a bottle of wine and tonight’s roast chicken make it over here within the half hour.” He snagged his keys off the counter, spinning the loop around his finger and sauntered toward the side door, giving her an unimpeded view of broad shoulders and that lovely, jean-covered backside. “Give me a call if you need anything else or have any questions.”

She smirked. “What? You’re not sticking around to make sure I get tucked into bed all right?”

He halted his step and she had the urge to put her hands over her face. She’d meant the question as a joke, but once the words were out of her mouth, she’d realized how they’d sounded. Like a lame attempt at flirting.

And maybe it had been exactly that.

Maybe she wanted him to stay and help her forget her awful day.

But he kept his back to her and turned his head to the side, revealing only his profile. “I don’t think that’d be a good idea, Charli.”

“Right,” she said softly, then added: “I was only kidding.”

“Good night, freckles.”

She sank back against the counter. Good was about the last thing tonight could be called.

The wine better make it over here quickly.

SIX

The night was filled with a harmony of frogs and crickets as Grant headed back to his house after checking on things at The Ranch. He had interviewed a potential trainee tonight—one who was having trouble letting go of control in her scenes with other doms. She’d been pretty and open to the type of play he enjoyed. She’d read through his contract and didn’t have any major sticking points. But once he’d started talking to her, he figured out one thing rather quickly—he had no desire to tie her up and beat her. And that was a damn shame.

So instead, he’d thanked her for her time and had gone back to work. He’d ended up spending half an hour mediating a tiff between two longtime members over who had reserved what playroom when, then had worked the floor for the rest of the night. But instead of all that business clearing his mind, walking the play spaces had only inspired images of his new “neighbor” and how she would look naked and restrained on all that equipment—how she’d feel writhing beneath his hands and mouth.

In the end, he’d left with a hard-on and headache. Not exactly the kind of night he’d been craving.

He took a swig from the bottle of water he’d grabbed on his way out and made the last turn in the path toward his place. The glow of his porch light burned in the distance. Almost home. But snapping twigs and a muffled curse somewhere off to the left had him slowing his steps. He turned, squinting through the inky darkness and cluster of trees. “Hello?”

More unintelligible sounds, then a clear “goddammit.”

Uh-oh. He took a step in the direction of the noise. “Charli? Is that you?”

“No.”

But it was. Even having just met her, he would recognize that slight rasp in her voice anywhere. Despite his best efforts, the sound went straight to his groin every damn time. Something about that hint of hoarseness made him think of how she would sound when she cried out in pleasure. Or pain. He was a fan of both.

He adjusted the front of his jeans and made his way through the grove of trees, almost afraid of what he’d find. Once he got to the other side and the moon offered enough light to find her, he discovered Charli sitting in a puddle of mud with her hands above her head, holding something.

“What in the hell?”

She looked to the heavens and groaned. “Can you take this please? If it gets wet, they’ll probably fire me.”

He grabbed the device from her, an iPad from what he could tell, and offered her a hand. “Need some help?”

“I got it.” She pushed herself up and then grimaced when she put weight on her right leg. “Ouch.”

He had to hide his own grimace, but for a completely different reason. Since he’d left her earlier, she’d changed into boxers and a T-shirt—both of which were now soaked and covered in mud. If it had been anyone else, it would’ve been comical. But all he could focus on was how the garments now clung and outlined every naked part beneath—curves and dips and points. Mud wrestling had never sounded so tempting.

He cleared his throat, thankful for the dark night as his cock hardened behind the fly of his pants. “Are you all right?”

“I think I tripped over a root or something.” She shifted her weight to her other foot and winced a bit. “Pissed off my ankle.”

He frowned at the way her words stumbled into each other, hearing the slight slur in her voice for the first time. Apparently the wine had made it over to her cabin. “Let me help you get back to your place. Do you need me to carry you?”

She shook her head, swaying on her feet ever so slightly. “I can…manage. Just carry the tablet so I don’t get any of this on it. Don’t need another talk from the boss, now do I?”

She took a few hobbling steps and tilted to the left. He reached out and grabbed her elbow. “Enjoyed the wine, Charli?”

“It was soooo smooth,” she said, flashing him an off-kilter smile and stumbling another step. “And potent.”

“So I see.” He tightened his grip, halting her. “Tell you what. This isn’t working. Wait here and don’t move.”

Before she could protest, he left her standing there in the dark and jogged toward her cabin. She’d thankfully left the door unlocked, saving him the trouble of going to his place for the key. Once inside, he found the half-empty bottle of wine and a cupcake wrapper. The roasted chicken he’d sent over looked untouched. He set her computer tablet on the counter and grabbed a large towel from the bathroom.

He hustled back outside, finding she had followed his instruction, something that gave him more pleasure than it should have. He handed her the towel. “Clean off what you can, then I’m carrying you the rest of the way. You may have sprained your ankle.”

“I don’t need to be carried. I’m fine.”

“This isn’t a negotiation. You’re injured and drunk.”

She raised a finger to him. “I am n—”

He cocked his head, giving a pointed glance at her muddied state, and she clamped her mouth shut. With unsteady movements, she wiped off her bare legs and cleaned her arms and hands.

He looked over her shoulder toward the fields, trying to do anything but watch her spread that wet mud along that freckled skin. “What were you doing out here anyway?”

“The Internet signal sucks. Thought if I got close enough to your cabin, I could catch your wireless if you had it.”

“You could’ve called me.”

She gave him a warning glance, no doubt anticipating a hindsight lecture, but he kept quiet. Some things didn’t need to be said.

Once she’d cleaned off what she could, Grant bent and put an arm beneath her knees and under her back, lifting her with one swift movement and catching her by surprise based on the hitch in her breath.

“You’re going to throw out your back, you know?”

He gave her a wry look. “I’ve carried injured men on the battlefield. I can handle one little sports reporter.”

“Little?” She snorted. “I’m almost six feet tall.”

“You’re small to me. Live with it.”

She kept quiet the rest of the walk back to the cabin, though he wished she would’ve kept chattering—anything to take his mind off the fact that she was pressed up against him and that she clearly had no bra on under that wet T-shirt. Those pert nipples would fit so perfectly in his mouth, would look so pretty in clamps. He forced himself to keep his eyes forward.

“It’s not good to stomp around here in the dark,” he said, his voice coming out gruffer than he intended. “We’re not in the city, freckles. A twig gotcha this time, but there are animals out here, too—coyotes, bobcats, snakes. They keep away from the lit areas of the resort, but you never know what you’ll find over here in the shadows.”

“I had only planned to be out for a minute.” She rested her head against his shoulder, and he wondered if she even realized she was doing it or if the wine was softening her.

He bumped open the cabin door with the toe of his boot and turned sideways to fit them both through the door. “And look how much trouble you got yourself into with only a minute in your pocket.”

“The half a bottle of wine didn’t hurt,” she said, the words sliding off her lips like lazy raindrops. “Made me forget about my shitty day for a little while, too.”

He set her down gently in the slate-tiled bathroom and opened the door to the walk-in shower to turn on the spray. He wanted to ask her more about her day, but he’d already tried that earlier and she’d instantly shut down. He kept his back to her and adjusted the knobs. “The water takes a minute to heat, but it should help sober you up at least.”

He started to turn around, but the sound of wet cloth smacking hard tile was like a sonic boom in his ears. His feet rooted to the spot as he caught the faint reflection in the shower glass of Charli bending and slipping off her shorts. Another plop as the boxers hit the floor. The steam fogged the glass before she straightened, but he had no doubt she was standing naked behind him. “Uh, Charli, I’m still in here.”

“So,” she said, sounding like a petulant teenager. “Didn’t ya know? Guys don’t think of me as a girl. So no harm.”

“Guys don’t wha—?” He must be having a dream. He’d really made it back to his cabin and he was in his bed now, having erotic dreams about Charli like the night before. That must be it.

“I’m hard to watch, cowboy” she said, her tone bitter. “They’d rather watch some blonde baton-twirling fashion reporter than me. Because she’s pretty. Even if she probably doesn’t know a first down from first base.”

Grant breathed in a deep gulp of steamy air, willing himself not to turn around and take the eyeful he so wanted. She was drunk. And apparently some idiot at her job had thrown a grenade at her today. He couldn’t give in to the urge.

“Darlin’, obviously you’re working with some world-class imbeciles. But do you mind wrapping up with a towel? Otherwise, you’re going to be real mad at yourself and me in the morning.”

She sniffed. “Well, see, there you go. The thought of me naked is even too much for you to bear.”

Oh, she had no idea. “Now you’re just talking stupid.”

“Great. So I’m not just ugly but stupid. Gee, thanks. You can go now.”

“Enough.” He spun around right as she was securing the towel, a towel that barely made it past the juncture of her legs. He wet his lips, the rest of his planned words sticking to his mouth like taffy.

“Just go.”

He closed the distance between them with two strides, and up close he could see that even though her jaw was set, her eyes were glassy with unshed tears. “Look, I don’t know what happened to you today or what you’re trying to prove to yourself right now, but let’s get one thing straight—you know nothing about what I think of you.”

“So tell me then,” she challenged. “Can’t be any worse than what I’ve already heard today.”

He moved into her personal space, backing her into the wall and bracing his hands on each side of her. “The truth? I think you’ve had a really shitty day and you’re looking for a fight or a fuck to make you forget it.”

Her eyes widened, her breath hitching.

“You want to yell at me, freckles? You want to pummel me to get all that anger out? Because go ahead. I’m right here.”

She stared back at him, frozen for a moment, then she licked her lips nervously. “That’s not what I want to do with you.”

His breathing was loud in his own ears. He needed to walk away. Right. Now. But his mouth was acting on its own accord. “Tell me what you want, Charli.”

Half of him hoped she wouldn’t follow his command, that she’d push him away. Because this was about as bad an idea as he’d ever considered. But if she told him, if she asked, he didn’t think he had it in him to deny her.

She couldn’t seem to bring her gaze up to him, but he didn’t miss the whispered plea. “I need to forget today. I need something good.”

And with that, his desire knocked off his good sense. Bang, bang. Dead.

“Something good it is, then.” He lifted Charli up and wound her legs around him, fitting the bare curve of her ass into his palms and dragging her against his straining erection. She tucked her face into the crook of his neck and made a soft, desperate sound that curled through him like hot smoke, filling his nerve endings.

But his raging libido was going to have to wait. He wasn’t going to fuck her drunk, couldn’t cross that line. But he could give her what she needed. He carried her over to the shower and pulled open the door, the steam spilling out into the room, then stepped in fully clothed, bringing them both under the hot stream of water. She lifted her head, surprise coloring her eyes as the water sluiced over her, soaking the towel and sloughing the dirt off her arms.

“Your clothes,” she said, looking down at his now-saturated shirt.

“Don’t worry about me, freckles. Just hold on to that towel bar behind you and let me make you feel good.”

Her gaze went hazy with arousal and maybe a little fear, but she followed his instruction. He kept an arm banded around her to make sure she was steady on her feet, then he slipped his hand beneath the edge of the towel, brushing against the smoothness of her inner thighs and sliding upward to find the damp thatch of hair at their juncture. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the shower wall. God, he wanted to yank that towel off her, see her stretched out like this and totally bare, but he knew if he took it that far, he’d end up inside her, taking more than he had any right to. He brushed his finger along her cleft, and she bucked against him, the simple touch pulling a moan from her.

The sound was like a stroke to his cock, her sensitivity like waving a red flag in front of a bull. Oh, how he could torture someone so responsive, drag out her pleasure until she was begging for release. “Darlin’, if you’re that keyed up, this isn’t going to take long.”

“Please,” she whispered, her hips tilting toward his touch.

He smiled, giving her what she sought, a firm slide over her clit. The nub seemed to swell beneath his fingers, her arousal coating his skin despite the shower water pounding down on them. He could smell her sexy scent, so sweet and tempting. He’d love to part those thighs and taste every bit of her, but instead he tucked two fingers inside her heat and kept his thumb against her clit.