“Smart,” Grant said. “Maybe you should be his boss instead of the other way around.”

“I wish.”

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

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

“I’m not going to quit my job,” she said. “And I’m definitely not going to let you pay me for sex.”

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

“I appreciate the thought. But I can take care of things myself,” she said, straightening in her seat.

“You don’t always have to, though,” he said quietly, almost more to himself than to her.

She didn’t have an answer to that.

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

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

“I’m sure nothing else has happened. They took everything they could possibly want the first time.”

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

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

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

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

“Don’t come in until I give you the all clear.” He hopped out of the truck and headed toward her front door, scanning the area as he went.

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

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

“We’ve got the place all to ourselves,” he said as she got closer. “And can I tell you how happy I am that you have a four-poster bed?”

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

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

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

“Hmm,” he said, backing them both through the open doorway, then kicking the front door shut. “Maybe we should skip sleep altogether, then.”

“You’re insatiable.”

“Guilty as charged.” He went for the tie on her wrap dress and pulled. “But you can always say no.”

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

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

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

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

“Yes, Grant.” There really was no other answer she could’ve given. Her body and mind craved him like nothing she’d experienced before. She needed this. Him.

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

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

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

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

“I need to take you here, sweet Charlotte,” he said, his voice gruff. “I can’t keep touching this beautiful ass of yours and not feel it around me.”

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

“Mmm,” he said, taking a long, deep inhale as he continued to stroke her. It was as if he was breathing in her fear, feasting on it.

“You like that I’m scared,” she said, more realization than accusation.

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

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

“A little fear makes your pulse go fast and your skin turn flushed.” He pulled her panties to the side, then slid a finger along her folds, sinking deep into her pussy. “And look how wet it makes you. I’m not the only one who gets off by the rush of adrenaline. There’s a reason you seek out all those extreme sports and adventures. You’re made for this, Charlotte. Your body and mind seek it.”

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

“I bet if I lit candles and played soft music while gently introducing the possibility of anal sex to you over wine, you’d shut down. You’re not that kind of girl.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tell me what you want, Charlotte,” Grant repeated, his voice like the far-off rumble of a thunderstorm. “And I’ll do it.”

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

“Well?”

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

TWENTY-SIX

The flicker of surprise that crossed Grant’s features at Charli’s request was as quick as a blink, but she hadn’t missed it. He unfurled his arms from their crossed position over his chest, his fingers flexing at his sides. “Tell me your safe word, Charlotte.”

Her heart pounded so hard, she wondered if her ribs would have a permanent imprint. “Texas.”

His eyes seemed to turn black in the soft light of the bedroom. He leaned over slowly, his mouth brushing the shell of her ear. Then one whispered word filled her mind. “Run.”

Her body reacted before her mind kicked in, her bare feet squeaking against the wood floor as she juked around Grant and took off into the hallway. Her house wasn’t big, but she had the advantage of knowing every hiding place and every room with a lock. He gave her a few seconds’ head start, so she slammed her office door to make him think she was hiding in there and headed to the kitchen instead. The attached laundry room had a lock and had another door that led to the screened-in porch on the back of the house. That could work.