MenageaDare (2 page)

“After knowing about my hard-on, do you really think I don’t
want you?” he asked, gently guiding her back around to face him. “Believe me,
Eve, I’m desperately trying not to pick you up and lock you inside that camper
with me.”

“If that’s true why fight it? You’re a single man. I’m a
single woman. Why not see where these feelings we have for each other can go?”

“You know why,” he answered, drawing her up to him.

“If it’s my father…” A long finger touched her mouth,
silencing her, the edge of his fingernail scraping along her bottom lip to wipe
away sticky marshmallow.

“This has nothing to do with him. Eve, I’m bi. As much as
I’m honestly attracted to you, I can’t just turn it off. See what I’m saying?”

“I’m not intimidated by that, not in the least.” He frowned
at that, the sadness she witnessed in his eyes warning her that she wasn’t the
only one he didn’t want to hurt. He was guarding his own feelings.

“Let me put it this way. If we get together, what happens if
somewhere down the line I meet a man who turns me on as much as you do? That’s
going to hurt you and I can’t have that happen. Not to you.”

“Don’t you see? I’ve spent the better part of a year
fantasizing about all the wicked things you might do to me if we ever became
lovers.”

“So have I, sugar, every day, every night, you’re there,
haunting me more than any ghost ever could,” he answered.

Taking a chance she might never have again, Eve reached up
with her left hand, caught a handful of his hair and brought his head down to
hers, touching her mouth to his.

“I’m not a ghost. I’m real and brave enough to take you on,”
she murmured against his lips, certain he’d pull back any second.

“Please don’t regret this,” Remy warned, his arms going
around her, holding onto her. His mouth moved, his tongue splitting the seam of
her lips, plunging deep, claiming her in a kiss devastatingly male, bold.

He tasted like heaven, with a hint of peppermint stick and
lemonade. He smelled faintly of leather, sandalwood and jeans, enticing despite
the day spent in the truck and the aftermath of a fluke accident that stranded
them at a campground.

Remy was unbelievably strong and tall. He worked out with a
regimented set of light weightlifting, kickboxing, Aikido and swimming. His
primary objective was to keep fit for the cameras and his role as host for the
New
England Paranormal Investigators
reality TV show.

But none of that mattered right now. All that did was Remy’s
kiss and the corresponding need welling up deep within her. Her knees were
weak, so much so that she had to grab hold of his shoulders and hang on as
tightly as she could. Yet she shouldn’t have worried, Remy lifted her up and
wrapped her legs around his waist.

Easing up on their kiss, he murmured, “I’ve got you, sugar.
I won’t let you fall.”

Unable to speak, she sighed and kissed him again, tightening
her legs so that nothing could separate them. A zing of heat and desire
dampened her panties right as his erection brushed the vee of her thighs and a
horn blasted behind them.

“Ah…sorry,” a man said, coughing. “Came to see how you two
were making out…I mean…if you needed anything.”

Reluctantly letting her legs drop until her feet hit the
ground, only to discover that she was trembling, she let Remy shield her from
the visitor’s view until she gathered her composure. When she was able, they
turned toward a man sitting in a golf cart with a little trailer hitched to it.

“Eve, this is Jack Miller, the owner of Sweetwater Campgrounds,”
Remy introduced, sweeping one hand out, the other he kept at her back. It felt
so protective she nearly swooned.

“Hello,” she greeted. “Thank you for your hospitality, Mr.
Miller.”

“No need for formalities,” he replied, shutting off the golf
cart and climbing out.

He looked to be in his fifties, his hair was mostly gray and
he had a bushy mustache. In his hand was a cowboy hat that he’d taken off when
Remy introduced him and worn cowboy boots were on his feet.

“I’m sorry it’s an imposition to wait a few days for a set
of tires,” Jack said.

“With all the other cars that received worse damage, we’re
just grateful no one was hurt,” Remy replied.

“Were you able to find enough to eat? Those teardrop campers
are popular, but also limited in food storage,” Mr. Miller asked, looking over
at the small camper decorated to reflect with the
New England Paranormal
Investigators
logo, a friendly ghost with a video camera in its pale hand.

Remy bent down and picked up the big overstuffed paper bag,
keeping it in front of him.

“Got fixings for s’mores, hotdogs, coffee, a half-dozen eggs
and bread for toast in the morning,” he said. “I also picked up some lemons and
peppermint sticks, makes for a tasty treat.”

“Great, don’t forget the diner at the entrance to the
campground. They have excellent meals, on the house, considering what you two
have been through. Anything you need, give me a call on my cell phone. I’ve
given you my card,” Jack Miller said kindly.

“Will do,” Remy said.

Eve thanked the other man again, watching him walk away. But
once the golf cart headed down the gravel road, Remy withdrew all the way to
the chuck wagon-style kitchen built into the back of the camper, where he was
busy storing food in ice chests and a tiny fridge.

“Can I help with that?” she offered, though it seemed as if
the job was done in the matter of a few seconds.

“Not necessary,” Remy answered.

“How about the inside of the camper, can I make up the bed
or something?”

“Won’t take but a few minutes to unroll the sleeping bags
and fluff the pillows.”

Translation, he was putting up the boundaries and treating
her with kid gloves again. Damn, their first chance blown by the honk of a horn.

“Remington Sinclair, don’t you dare do this,” she warned.

“Do what?”

“Pretend our kiss didn’t happen. It did. I’ll never forget
it.”

Remy stopped what he was doing, straightening to his full
six foot six height. “Tell me something, sugar. Does the erection in my pants
look as if I’ve forgotten?”

Lowering her eyes to his well-worn black jeans, she
instantly felt the pang of desire deep in the heart of her pussy. Whoa! Remy
Sinclair’s bulge was so significant she actually started to drool.

“Remy,” she murmured, stunned even as he headed right for
her.

“Does it, Eve?”

Backing up against the truck, she was stunned when she could
go no further and Remy kept coming at her. At last he was there, nuzzling his
nose into the crook of her neck, pushing his cock right into the vee between
her thighs.

“Does it?” he repeated himself, rocking into her.

The heat of his cock, the thickness and rampant need driving
him to thrust his hips had her right where she’d longed to be for months. If
Remy stripped her right then, she’d have spread her legs and invited him to end
their sexual frustrations once and for all.

“You’ve not forgotten,” she answered.

“Now that you know I want to fuck you, take some time to
make sure you’re ready for me.”

“I don’t need time,” she stated.

“Being with me goes beyond the norm, Eve. You need to be
prepared. Once we’re hidden inside that trailer tonight, if you’re still
willing, you’re mine.”

With kisses and bites, Remy’s mouth carved a heated path
from her throat to her lips. Temptingly his mouth lingered over hers, testing
her, his tongue tangling with hers in a little dance before drawing back.

Drawing back, he pressed his lips to her forehead, breathing
in and out, calming himself perhaps.

“Promise you won’t let me hurt you, Eve. If I push you too
much, ask too much of you there’s always an out. Do you understand?”

“I think so,” she said. “Do you mean a safeword?”

“Eventually you’ll need one, but we’re nowhere near ready to
talk about what that means,” he answered. “Think on it for a bit. Please. Be
sure, sugar.”

“I’d like to grab some things out of my suitcase and head to
the bathhouse to wash up. Do you mind?”

Remy stepped back. Naturally, her eyes went to the zipper of
his black jeans. Whoa, he was still hard. If only she could reach out and
touch…

“Eve, eyes up,” he warned in a soft voice that commanded
more response than if he’d shouted. “That’s for your benefit, okay? Grab what
you need and I’ll escort you to the bathhouse.”

That made Eve smile. “Are you getting protective on me,
Boss?”

“Yes. If something happens to you, it’d kill me.”

“Nothing’s going to happen to me, Remy, but it’d be very
nice to have company.”

“Give me a sec to get a change of clothes too,” he said.

His easygoing charm returned and Eve became more settled.
Joining him at the back of the truck, she waited while Remy opened up the
canvas top to reveal where their suitcases were stored.

It took a few minutes to grab something to wear for the rest
of the evening. Tucking her clothes, toiletries and a bath towel into a small
knapsack, she watched Remy remove two camp chairs and carry them over to a fire
pit. Shortly, he returned to refasten the canvas top.

Knowing there was a lot of expensive equipment stored in the
back she paused.

“Remy, are you sure one of us shouldn’t hang back and guard
the equipment? I know you just got a new thermal-imaging camera.”

“It’s doubtful anything will happen to it way out here. Even
so, equipment is replaceable. You’re not.”

Suddenly aware of how fast her heart was beating, she had to
take a breath and calm down. Wow, Remy Sinclair was many things, a gentleman
among them. To think her father had been against the idea of her driving across
the country with her boss.

Granted, as the CEO and CFO of Stratham Investments, her
father wasn’t always the easiest man to deal with on a daily basis. But after
his younger business partner and his mistress were revealed as killers, he’d
developed serious trust issues, running background check after background check
on his employees from top to bottom.

Additionally, he’d attempted to lure Eve into accepting a
lucrative position in his company rather than preferred her current job as
Remy’s history consultant and her part-time gig as a history and genealogy
instructor at Salem Community College.

Fortunately, she was able to handle the workload because the
classes were mini-semesters and she’d worked out a schedule with Remy that
allowed her to concentrate on teaching when the classes were in session.

The problem with her father was multiplied by the fact that he’d
reluctantly agreed to back off pressuring Remy with details about their road
trip after she agreed to think about dating his VP of marketing, Matt Bucher.
There were a lot of reasons she’d never date Matt, but those stemmed from
circumstances when she was a teenager.

“Can I help you with that?” Remy offered, reaching for her
knapsack.

“I’ve got it,” she said.

Remy confiscated it anyway. Flinging the bag over his big
shoulder, he manipulated his stack of folded up-clothes so that he could fall
into step beside her and place his arm at her waist. Loving the way he stayed
at her side, she walked with him to the gravel road that led to the campground
entrance.

At the door of the bathhouse, they kissed and separated,
with Remy promising he’d come running if she needed him. Eve snagged her bag
and ducked into the women’s side, noticing in an instant that the facility was
clean and felt very safe.

A couple of teenaged girls were fawning over their makeup in
a mirror and talking about some boys they’d met at the indoor pool. A mom and
her young daughter were setting their shower supplies up outside of a shower
stall.

The bathhouse itself looked like a log cabin with vaulted
ceilings, paddle fans, exposed beams and it had a fresh pine scent. Better yet,
it was heated, which was lovely since it had grown a bit chillier with the sun
beginning to go down.

Proceeding to a far shower stall, she went inside and locked
the door. The stall was two sided, with the shower closed off by a curtain, a
stool to sit on and a narrow table, where she placed her pajama pants,
underwear and a Boston Red Sox tee shirt.

She wouldn’t have to take too long. She’d washed her hair
and taken a hot bubble bath late last night in anticipation of leaving early in
the morning. After spending so long in the truck and then the mishap on the
road that temporarily stranded them at the campground, a shower was definitely
in order.

Stripping quickly, she was careful to check that her hair
comb still bound her locks up off her shoulders to keep it from getting too
damp and slid the curtain aside, reaching in to turn on the water. Taking soap
and the travel-sized package of feminine cleansing tissues, she stepped inside
the shower.

She didn’t know if it was her imagination or not, but she
thought heard water running beyond the wall she was facing. Maybe Remy was on
the other side taking his shower. There was no way to know, but it sure was
nice knowing he was close.

Concentrating on her task, she picked up her soap and
scrubbed herself clean. A few minutes later, she watched the last tendrils of
suds swirl down the drain as she washed between her legs with cleansing wipes.

If this night was going to happen, she wanted to smell nice
and look nice for Remy. It was still
if
in her mind. Hopefully, he
wouldn’t talk himself out of it while he was away from her.

He’d told her point blank that he was a bisexual switch and
she’d known with a little help from her friends back home that he’d recently
joined Druid Creek Castle’s BDSM club. Once she’d learned that, she began
researching the lifestyle but she was a long way from understanding or deciding
if she wanted to engage in it.