Fall Into You (8 page)

“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.

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.