Fall Into You (13 page)

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.

“
No, sir
is the proper response. Say it.”

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.

“In my world,
stop
and
no
are sometimes thrown around for effect. The only thing that makes everything stop
is your safe word. Here that word is
Texas
. You say it and whatever is happening stops, no questions asked.”

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.

“Do you understand?”

“Yes…sir.”

“Take off your clothes.”

“What? Like here?” She knew the words sounded stupid even as she said them, but she
couldn’t help it.

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.

“All of it,” Grant said, his voice quiet but firm.

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

Awkward, embarrassed, freaking exposed.

“I didn’t ask how you feel. This is about what I want. Not you. And right now, I want
to see all of you. Go back to your cabin or get naked.”

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.

“I’m waiting, freckles.”

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.

“Shit, yes,” she murmured.

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

“Yes, what?”

“Sir,” she corrected in a hurried rush. “Yes, sir.”

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

“Good girl.” His hand found her waist, then traced down and over her hip bone in a
slow, tortuous trail. His thumb brushed her mound. “You’re so lovely here, Charli.
Nothing sexier than a natural redhead.”

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.

“Mmm, good girl,” he breathed against the side of her neck. “So wet and eager for
me.”

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.

“But no coming unless I say so,” he added.

“Are you kidding?” She couldn’t help it. Her mouth had a mind of its own.

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.”

“Grant, I—”

“Wrong answer.” He planted a hand between her shoulder blades forcing her down into
the position. Her blood was roaring in her ears and ribbons of dread curled in her
stomach. It was like that moment before she’d bungeed the first time—fear and exhilaration
twining together. She laced her fingers together, putting herself in a sort of praying
position.

She probably needed to pray.

“Ready to press the escape hatch, Charli?” Grant asked, the question deceptively soft.

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.

“No, sir.” The answer was automatic but truthful. She shifted restlessly, both worried
and desperate for whatever was to come.

“We’ll see.”

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.

“Count, Charli.”

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

“One for questioning me.”

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

“And two for failing to follow a directive after I warned you I don’t like to repeat
myself.”

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.

“You ready for me, Charli? Or do you want to leave now that you have a taste of what
I’m like?”

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.

“Please…” The pressure was building. She only needed the barest shift of his mouth
and she would go over.

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.”

“Don’t need it, sir.”
I just need you. Right. Now.

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…”

“Beg me for it, freckles,” he said, something dangerous and enticing in his voice,
a pied piper’s tune. “I’m not like other guys. I have no problem walking away unsatisfied
to prove a point. So make me believe you don’t want me to do that.”

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.”