He gathered her closer to him, turning her, and tucked her head under his chin. Her body continued to quiver with aftershocks as he rubbed a gentle hand up and down her back. When she finally stilled, he slipped an arm under her knees. “Let’s get you out of here and into bed. It’s been a long night.”

He set her on the closed lid of the toilet and toweled her off with patient attention. Her muscles felt like wet rubber bands, but the buzzing afterglow of her orgasm and the view of the sexy man before her had entertaining other ideas than sleep. Her eyes traveled over Reid’s luscious backside as he bent to grab a T-shirt from his bag. He had slipped on a pair of boxer briefs, but before he had turned, she hadn’t missed the ramrod erection he was sporting.

When he spun to face her again, he smirked. “LeBreck, are you checking me out?”

“Can’t a girl look?

He laughed as he slipped the shirt over her head. “Sure, I give you permission to objectify me at any time.”

She poked his side. “You’re an arrogant bastard, you know that?”

He bent and laid a quick kiss on her lips. “You love it. Now come on, off to bed with you.”

Reid carried Brynn into the bedroom and settled her beneath the covers. She closed her eyes and for the brief moment, he let himself drink in the view. The polished, put-together professional was nowhere to be found. Her makeup had long since worn off and her blond hair was starting to curl where it’d gotten wet. He loved seeing her like this—her only adornment the flushed hue of a woman well satisfied. If she were his, he’d make sure that she went to bed every night with that look.

He groaned inwardly. There he went again—thinking stupid shit about staking some claim on her. He’d already stuck a toe in dangerous waters, offering to take her on as a sub if she ever wanted to join him at a club. As if she’d ever be open to that after she found out why he was really here.

Didn’t matter. She’d recoiled at the idea anyway. And how could he blame her? Brynn didn’t want a guy who could offer her a weekend collar; she wanted one that would offer her a lifetime ring. Deserved it.

She shifted onto her elbow and peered up at him from under her lashes. “I think it’s time you get a little TLC, too.”

Her voice was as innocent as a spring morning, but the suggestion in those moss-colored eyes shot straight to his groin. “Sugar, it’s almost three in the morning.”

She nodded toward the now aching bulge in his shorts. “Doesn’t look like your friend knows that.”

He gave her a rueful smile. There’d be nothing he’d like more than to slide in bed next to her and keep her awake until the sun came up, but he knew better. Besides the fact that they needed to be rested for tomorrow, one-on-one sex with Brynn was not an option. “Don’t worry about that. He can’t help standing at attention anytime you’re around. You’ve already given me more than enough tonight.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “Since when have you gotten enough?”

He laughed and kissed the crown of her head. “Since I discovered years ago that you are absolutely insufferable without sleep. I refuse to subject myself or the rest of the resort to that tomorrow.”

She pushed her lip out in a mock pout and shifted into a sitting position, bringing her thin T-shirt and the hard points of her nipples into clear view. “I’m not that bad.”

“Uh-huh.” He turned away from her and headed toward the closet, trying to think of anything besides how much he wanted to tear the shirt off her, seize those tight little buds with clamps, and test out that spanking bench taunting him at the end of the bed.

He’d lock her down on all fours, spread her wide so he could enjoy every detail of that smooth pussy, her sweet ass. He’d tease and pinch and nibble until her honey dripped down her thighs—until he knew she was aching just for him. Then he’d take her—utterly and completely—until she was so exhausted that all she’d be able to do when he was done with her would be to curl in his arms and let him hold her while she slept.

His erection hardened to the point of pain, and he had to stifle a groan. Fuck. He needed space. Air. Something. Before he broke every rule he’d set for himself coming into this thing. He yanked a pillow and extra blanket off the top shelf of the closet and spun to face her.

“Get some rest, LeBreck,” he said, forcing a casual tone. “We have another full day ahead of us tomorrow.”

Her attention zeroed in on the items in his hand. “You’re not sleeping in here?”

“I’m a rough sleeper. It’ll be best for both of us if I use the sofa bed out front.” He knew the excuse was lame, knew she would see through it. But at the moment, he didn’t care. He needed out of the room. Now.

A cool mask stole over her features, and he could almost see the mental retreat from the openness they’d shared a few minutes earlier. She leaned over and clicked off the bedside lamp, plunging them into shadows. “Don’t forget to shut the door on your way out.”

He cringed at the icy tone. He’d hurt her. He’d known it would, but if he stayed, he’d hurt her much worse. So without another word, he stepped out of the bedroom and put a solid wooden door between them—hoping it was strong enough to protect them both.

EIGHTEEN

now

Brynn sat on the side of the bed with her knees to her chest, staring out the window as the last glimmers of the setting sun peeked through the trees bordering the back of their cabin. She and Reid had wandered to every possible place on the grounds today—smiling, touching, acting like a couple. Convincing everyone within shouting distance that they were for real.

Almost convincing her.

She rubbed her burning eyes. Absolute exhaustion had overtaken the two of them late this afternoon, and Reid had suggested they come back to the cabin to shower and rest before the festival. He’d managed to fall asleep on the sofa bed. But, she’d only closed her eyes for a few seconds before uninvited thoughts had crawled into her brain and taken over like ants at a picnic.

When Reid had shut the door to the bedroom the night before, she’d been left with a feeling she hadn’t experienced in a decade—a hollow, yawning ache deep inside her chest. A feeling of incompleteness. Of wanting. Needing. Forcing her to accept something she’d thought long dead.

She loved Reid. Probably had always loved him. And no matter how many miles, years, chapters of life she’d put between them, she couldn’t run from the fact that some door within her only accepted Reid’s key. Being with him again had flung that door wide open, yearning for him to step inside and stay awhile.

Only Reid had no interest in stepping over the threshold. Couldn’t. He needed something she couldn’t give him, and she wanted the kind of life he had no interest in.

She rested her chin on her knees and rocked, letting the realization that she was going to have to let him go all over again roll over her. She knew, technically, she didn’t even have him this time. But when he’d held her last night, caressed away her fears, it had felt like he was hers and she his—if just for a few moments. A few perfect minutes.

Now there would be no more. At least not with him.

She prided herself on being able to tough things out in life, but she couldn’t grit her teeth through this one. After the Bacchanal, there would be no more playacting with Reid. Every time he touched her, whispered her name, commanded her, she fell a little deeper into the hole. If she let herself tumble any further, she’d never be able to climb out. So before the party tonight, she needed to draw the line between them again so they could move forward and coexist. The only time he needed to touch her was at the Bacchanal. Period.

A light knock on the front door roused her from her thoughts. She stood and wrapped her robe around her. Quietly, she padded down the hallway and peeked into the living room. Reid was still splayed across the sofa bed, the sheets a tangled mess around his legs, and his bare chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. Every muscle in her body strained to move forward, to crawl into bed next to him, and bury her face in his neck—absorb his scent, his heat, his being.

The hole in her chest widened a bit more, and she forced her eyes away from the scene. She hurried to the front door and swung it open. No one was there, but two toga-style costumes were hanging from the hook on the front of the door and two familiar black bags sat on the doorstep. Hallelujah.

Careful not to make any noise, she grabbed her suitcase and purse and set them inside the door. A small white envelope with her name fell off the top of the larger bag. She slid open the sealed flap and pulled out the card.

Ms. LeBreck, your master informed us that you have earned the privilege of your things. If you need anything additional, please request it through him.

—The Ranch Staff

She rolled her eyes. So Reid could’ve have given her access to her clothes last night. Opportunistic bastard. But even as she thought the words, a smile touched her lips.

She lifted the costumes off the door hook and laid them over the back of a nearby chair, then closed the door. Reid flipped over to his stomach, providing her with a buffet of delicious skin and sinewy muscles, but seemed to still be in a deep sleep. Not surprising—the man had always slept like the dead.

She checked the clock over the dining room table. Still an hour before the festivities started. She didn’t want to wake Reid yet since it wasn’t time to go, but she was starting to feel a bit stir- crazy. Maybe she could take a walk toward the vineyards. All the private cabins were along that path and people would inevitably be heading out for the evening. Couldn’t hurt to watch who was coming and going. Maybe she could intercept Kelsey before they even got to the party.

She headed to the bathroom with her costume, changed into the short, wine-colored toga, and twisted her hair into a knot. Next, she fastened the leather collar that marked her as attached around her neck. The one-shouldered outfit definitely covered more than her ensemble from the night before, but she couldn’t help wondering how long the costume would stay on at an event like this. She’d seen paintings of the bacchanals of Ancient Rome in her college art history class. It wasn’t the fashion that had inspired lewd comments from the guys in the back row.

She smoothed the fabric with trembling hands and took a deep breath. I will make it through tonight. I’ll talk Kels into coming home with me. Everything’s going to be fine.

She gave a derisive snort, making a mental note to nix her practice of prescribing positive affirmation to her clients. Clearly, it was bullshit.

On quiet feet she made her way back through the living room and to the small dining room table. Reid had set a laptop bag next to one of the chairs and had placed his computer and a legal pad on the table. Apparently, she hadn’t been the only one who’d had trouble sleeping the night before. She sat down in the chair and grabbed the pad so she could leave him a note, but frowned when she saw there was no pen in sight. Leaning down, she peered into his unzipped bag to see if one was in there.

She spotted one in an inner pocket and moved aside a few files to unzip the mesh pouch. But when she shoved aside the last one, the name on the manila folder caught her eye. After casting a quick look at Reid to make sure he was still asleep, she snatched the folder from the bag and laid it on the table next to the laptop.

Hank Caldwell. The name alone made acid rise in the back of her throat. Her mother’s murderer.

And Reid’s client.

Why would he have Hank’s file in his bag? The case had been closed for two years, and the guy had gotten a life sentence—so no parole hearings to worry about. She drummed her fingers along the outside of the folder. She knew she shouldn’t look. Didn’t even know if she wanted to look. What if it contained copies of crime scene photos?

She’d seen the horrible scene in person and had done her best to block the images from her mind—though they still showed up in her nightmares from time to time. Her mother’s lifeless body, the gunshot wound to the chest, all the blood. So much blood. And the feeling of complete despair that had overtaken her when she’d realized her mother was gone. Taken—right when she’d finally started to work toward a better life.