The Expert's Guide to Driving a Man Wild (18 page)

“So,” Miranda said, finally handing her the steaming mug. “You want to talk about it?”

Brenna wrapped her hands around the cup and sighed. Part of her didn’t want to talk about it, and part of her wanted to weep out her troubles. “Have you ever had a friends-with-benefits scenario?”

“Friends with benefits?” Her eyes widened and Miranda twisted the pretty purple bracelet on her wrist absently. “I . . . well, not really? When I first started sleeping with Dane, I didn’t even really consider him a friend. Just a lay, you know?” Her cheeks pinked at the thought.

“Yes, exactly!” Brenna set the mug down. “How did that work out for you? Just having sex?”

“Not so well,” Miranda said with a laugh, grabbing a stack of books and flipping open the cover of the first one. She began to press stickers inside it and wrote something on the cover, clearly readying it for circulation. “I got all attached and mad at myself because I didn’t want to be attached.”

Brenna frowned. That wasn’t the answer she’d been hoping to hear. The opposite, actually. “So what did you do?”

“Do?” Miranda giggled and looked all lovesick for a moment. “We moved in together. Turned out I wasn’t the only one that couldn’t have sex without getting attached.”

Brenna made a face. “But what if you don’t want to get attached? Aren’t men supposed to like not being tied down?”

“Most men would,” Miranda agreed. “But we’re talking about Grant here, right? The man’s more loyal than a Doberman. He hasn’t dated since his wife died, remember? Why would you think he’d be a good choice for some no-strings-attached sex?”

Gritting her teeth in frustration, Brenna did admit that Miranda had a point. When it came to choices for a quick shag, Grant wouldn’t have been high on anyone’s list. So why was she so determined to sleep with him? It couldn’t have been because she had feelings for him, could it?
Ugh.
She was so confused. “He asked me to marry him,” Brenna said sourly.

Miranda gasped. “Oh my God. He did?” Her face lit up, and then she narrowed her eyes at Brenna. “You don’t seem excited about it.”

“That’s because I’m not. It was the most unromantic proposal ever!” Brenna sipped the hot tea. “He came to my desk and went on and on about responsibility and safety and how he’d take care of me since it was clear that I couldn’t even take care of myself. So to do me a favor, he was going to marry me and make me his little woman.” She rolled her eyes at the thought and took another sip of tea. “He didn’t even bother to propose with a ring.”

Silence. She peeked at Miranda over the rim of her mug. The librarian was watching her with a curious look, squinting as if she was trying to make out Brenna. Her long, straight brown hair slid over the shoulder of her cream blouse.

“What?” Brenna mumbled.

“I’m confused,” Miranda said, flipping the book shut and placing it atop a pile, and then moving to the next one. She opened it and then began to sticker it. “I thought you wanted no-commitment sex?”

“I do.”

“So why are you mad that he gave you an unromantic proposal and no ring?”

“Because that’s not how you do it! If you’re going to crap things up with a proposal, you might as well make it a good one.”

Miranda’s lips twitched. “But maybe the no ring, no emotions proposal is Grant’s way of being no strings attached. You never know.”

Brenna considered this. “Or maybe the man just wants to be married again.”

Miranda began to say something, then changed her mind, shaking her head. “I just wonder that this isn’t a conversation you should have had with Grant.”

“I’m not talking to him right now. I’m actually pretty mad at him.”

“Dare I ask?”

Brenna considered, wondering how much to share. Beth Ann and Miranda were close friends and had been since grade school. Brenna felt a bit like an outsider when the two of them were together, but they were also her closest girlfriends since moving to Bluebonnet. How much did Miranda want to know? “You sure you want details?”

Miranda gave a firm nod. “I can’t help if I don’t know what’s going on. And you’ve been crying, which makes me want to go and kick Grant in the nuts on your behalf.”

“Okay, but you can’t tell Dane.”

That made Miranda pause and she gave a heavy sigh. “Fine. I won’t tell Dane.”

Brenna fiddled with one of the sleeves of the sweater, adjusting it so she wouldn’t have to meet Miranda’s knowing gaze. “Grant proposed to me a few days ago and when I said no, I started sleeping apart from him. Today, I told Grant I wanted no-strings sex, right? So I approached him for sex and he said it was fine. Except all he did was finger me until I came, and then asked me to get off him.”

Miranda’s jaw dropped.

Brenna felt a little better about things at seeing her reaction. Okay, so maybe she
wasn’t
crazy for feeling all hurt and emotional. “He wouldn’t even kiss me. Didn’t come, either. Just told me that if I wanted unemotional sex, he was more than willing to lend me a hand, but that was the only involvement he wanted.” She frowned in memory. “I wanted sex, not a human vibrator.”

Miranda was quiet for a moment, and then said thoughtfully, “Unless he was shaking all over, he’d be more like a human dildo.”

“Har de har. You know what I mean.”

“I do, and wow. That was kind of cold of Grant. I’m honestly surprised. He seems like the least likely type to pull a douche move like that.”

“I know,” Brenna said, and her tone was miserable. “And now I feel like shit. He’s ruined everything. Even orgasms.”

Miranda thought for a long moment, toying with the ends of her long hair. Then she glanced over at Brenna again. “You want my opinion? Honest, no holds barred?”

“I think I do? Unless you plan on making me cry, too.”

She chuckled. “Not my game plan.”

“Then go for it.”

“I think he probably doesn’t realize how much he hurt you.” Miranda’s voice was soft, as if she were reluctant to deliver bad news. “You have to remember that Grant’s been wallowing in five years of self-torment and misery because of how Heather died. He’s always going to think that he’s the problem in a relationship—any kind of relationship,” she added quickly when it seemed as if Brenna would protest the state of their “friendship.” “And here’s the thing. You’re so happy and nonchalant most of the time that you probably come across as not caring about anything. And I don’t think that’s true. I think you care, but I think you try to hide it. Maybe you don’t want to care, but it’s clear to me that you do. You need to show Grant how much he hurt you and I think you’ll see him falling all over himself to apologize.”

“So basically, go to him and start the waterworks?”

Miranda laughed. “That’s one way of putting it. But you could always try to just have a sensible conversation about how you do have feelings and he trampled all over them because you turned down his proposal. His rather impromptu proposal, I might add. I mean, you said that you two have been sleeping together for a while, but still . . . that’s kind of moving fast.”

“Really fast,” Brenna muttered. So she might have told a little white lie about the timeframe. Miranda would definitely not understand Grant if Brenna confessed the truth and that they’d only started sleeping together when his parents had come into town. She felt weird about defending him, though. He kept messing things up for them. And yet . . . what if he honestly thought he was giving her what she asked for?

It was a mess no matter how she looked at it. Brenna rubbed her forehead. “Jeez, all I wanted was to pretend to be a guy’s girlfriend and have some kinky sex. Is that too much to ask for?”

“Apparently.” Miranda’s mouth twitched with amusement. “Did you want to check out the library’s copy of the
Kama Sutra
?”

She thought about it for a moment. “Actually, yes. I think I would.”

G
rant’s car wasn’t in the parking lot when she pulled up to the lodge. He must have been visiting his family. That suited her just fine. She avoided the main lodge and headed straight to his cabin, letting herself in. She found a fluffy stack of towels and a bathrobe, so she took a shower and then wrapped herself in his bathrobe and toweled her hair dry. Then she sat down on his couch to wait for his return, idly flipping through the pages of the
Kama Sutra
. Who knew that a picture book would have so many words in it?

Her hair was almost dry when she heard the sound of steps on the gravel path, and she opened to a specific page, then glanced over at the door.

When Grant walked in and saw her in his bathrobe, reading a book, he looked momentarily dumbfounded. Then he frowned. “What are you doing?”

She held up the book. “Reading.”

“No, I mean . . . what are you doing here? I thought you moved out.” He set his keys down on a nearby table and approached her.

She shrugged. “My grand plan of living in the main lodge didn’t involve a shower. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t mind. You know my home is open to you.” That husky, affectionate note had returned to his voice, and just hearing it made her skin prickle with awareness. He moved forward, and then paused. “What are you reading?”

“Oh, this old thing?” Brenna waved the book idly. “Just brushing up. Did you know there’s a position in which a man windmills around while the woman bounces on his dick? I can’t say I’d ever want to try that one, but I’m open to a few of these others. I’ve bookmarked a few pages.” She held it up and showed him several dog-eared pages, and then added in a silky voice, “Not that you care about that.”

“Brenna.” He sat down on the edge of the couch, near where her feet were. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

“You should be. You hurt my feelings.” To her horror, tears started to form and she blinked rapidly, trying to quell the onslaught. “If I wanted a mount, I’d just buy a dildo. Understand?”

He sighed and moved closer. “Don’t cry, Brenna. I never meant to hurt you. I was just . . . frustrated. And I took it out on you. I’m sorry.”

“I just . . .” She sniffed, then swiped at her nose with one hand. “I just don’t understand why we can’t do things simple. Why we can’t just enjoy each other without having to make it about more. I just like being with you. Why do you have to change that?”

“We don’t,” Grant murmured, pulling her close. “I like having you around. I don’t want that to change. It’s just my nature to try and protect you.”

“Can you be a little less protective and a little more open to less commitment?”

“If that means we have to have wild, meaningless sex, then that’s what we’ll do.”

She sniffed against his chest. “Good.”

He stroked her hair. “Does this mean you’re coming back to bed with me?”

“Is it a no-strings-attached bed?”

“It can be.”

“Then yes.”

Grant grinned, brushing the backs of his fingers along her jaw. “Do you want to go to that no-strings-attached bed right now?”

“I don’t see why not.” She tilted her head, as if pretending to consider things. “I’m already dressed for it.”

“It looks like you’re dressed for a bath.”

“I can fix that.” She stood up and shrugged the robe to the floor, then delicately stepped out of it. “You coming?”

“Hell yes,” he said, following her behind the ladder.

Brenna shimmied up the ladder to the loft, trying not to be distracted by how he reached out and caressed her ass repeatedly while she did so. By the time she made it to the bed, she was turned on, but wary. Was Grant really going to give her what she wanted, or was he going to hurt her feelings again?

She turned to face him and noticed that Grant was still dressed, though he’d taken off his glasses and had tossed them onto a nearby bureau. “You going to get naked with me this time?”

“Absolutely.”

He began to unbutton his shirt, and she sat on the edge of the bed and watched him, waiting. She wanted to help him undress, but she needed to see that he was going to give her this much, at least. Their last sexual encounter still weighed heavily on her mind, when he hadn’t given her anything.

Grant finished undressing and instead of folding his clothes like he normally did, he kicked them aside. Then he was naked in front of her, and she reached out to touch him, unable to help herself. Her fingers smoothed over his chest hair and rubbed down the light line of hair that led to his groin.

“I’m glad you and I are better,” she told him with a soft, pleased sigh, her fingers cupping his balls.

“Me too,” he murmured, and he wrapped an arm around her waist, dragging her close. One hand went to cup her breast, and he thumbed her nipple. “So, did you find any positions in that book that didn’t involve commitment from the partners?”

“Hmm. Doggy style?”

“I like doggy style,” he said, leaning in to kiss her.

She tilted her face up for his kiss, and he brushed his lips over hers in a tender, almost butterfly-gentle kiss. He feathered his lips over hers, as if merely tasting her was enough, and the tenderness in the small caress was enough to make her toes curl.

“I need to make up for what I didn’t give you last night,” he murmured against her mouth. His hand slid up to cup the back of her head and then he was kissing her deep, his tongue sweeping against hers in a kiss that claimed as much as it pleasured. She moaned and leaned into the kiss, feeling shivers run up and down her body. And he kissed her endlessly, as if nothing existed but her mouth and her tongue, and they were there simply for his pleasure. When the kiss finally broke an eternity later, she was left panting and breathless. “Better?”

“Much,” she said with a sigh.

“That was a no-strings-attached kiss.”

“Mmm, those are my favorite kind.” Hell, she was so thoroughly kissed she doubted she could even stand up straight.

He chuckled. “I figured as much.” His hand slid between them, caressing the mound of her sex. “Is this ready for some no-commitment cock?”

“Oooh, it was born ready,” she purred. “Though I don’t mind if you keep giving it some no-commitment rubbing.”

Grant’s fingers slipped deeper, rubbing her piercing and clit. “Better?”

“Just like that,” she breathed. “You know just how to touch me, don’t you?”

“I do,” he told her, an intense look in his eyes. “I watch everything you do. I see how you react. It’s how it teaches me what you like.”

A man who thought about what she liked in bed? Novel. “And what do you like?”

“Touching you.”

“Oooh, good answer.” She shivered when his fingers rolled her piercing against her clit. “Really good answer.”

He leaned in and kissed her again. “I need to get a condom.”

She nodded, her own need building even as his hand slipped away. She couldn’t resist a small whimper of protest when he disappeared into the bathroom and emerged a moment later, condom in hand.

He returned to her side and brushed a hand over her ass. “Get on the bed and on your knees. In a totally non-commitment way, of course.”

“One non-committed pony ride coming right up,” she teased. She moved onto the edge of the bed and went on her hands and knees.

Grant moved behind her. His hand slid between her legs and he began to rub her pussy again, until she was following the stroke of his hand and rearing backward with every touch.

“You wet for me?”

“As if you can’t tell?” She was so slick and wet for him.

He slipped a finger deep and made a sound of pleasure. “Very wet.”

She squirmed against his hand. “I need that non-committed cock inside me, Grant. Not your fingers.”

“I can do that.” He slid his hands to her ass cheeks and pulled her thighs further apart, until she was falling forward on the bed. And as soon as her chin hit the blankets, he was pushing into her, his cock sliding home.

Brenna moaned, clutching at the blankets. “Oh, Grant. That feels so good.”

He pulled back, his hands clutching at her hips, and then he drove into her again. Then again, and again, until he was slamming into her with every quick, deep thrust. There was no control in his stroke, no leashed energy. He poured everything he had into each thrust into her body, and the intensity of the fucking made her toes curl.

And then his hand slid to the front of her and he began to play with her clit, even as he continued to thrust raggedly and wildly into her.

She came with a choked cry, her entire body tightening with the hard rush of need coursing through her. He bit back a curse and came as well, his strokes into her slowing down until he collapsed on the bed next to her. She could hear the snap of rubber as he took off the condom, and then he pulled her down next to him.

They lay there, panting for a moment. That had been a quick and dirty fuck, Brenna mused, but a good one. She was pleased.

“Well,” Grant breathed. “That was certainly meaningless, wasn’t it?”

She giggled. “Completely and utterly.”

His arm wrapped around her and he dragged her in for a hug, and she snuggled into his arms, her eyes closing in utter bliss and relaxation.

 • • • 

Well, at least now he knew how Brenna ticked, Grant mused as he held her against him while she slept. Her purple bangs tickled his chin, but he didn’t brush them away. She was sleeping soundly, her arms curled around him, and he’d be damned if he woke her up.

Her in his arms? Felt right. Their fun but slightly edgy sex? Felt right. The fact that Brenna had been wounded because he’d given her exactly what she’d asked for—just sex? Meant that she felt things for him. Probably the same torrent of emotions that he was feeling.

But instead of embracing them like he did, she preferred to pretend that they didn’t exist.

Which wasn’t ideal, but at least now he knew how to handle things. For starters, he wouldn’t go around declaring that they should get married. Instead, he’d simply let Brenna call all the shots. His thumb brushed over one of her tattoos, grazing the soft skin.

If she felt like she was in control of things, she wouldn’t get skittish. And if this thing between them continued to work out? They’d fall into a lifestyle so easily that Brenna wouldn’t realize that she’d fallen into a committed relationship until it was too late.

Grant grinned. It was committed all right. He was crazy about her, completely and utterly crazy. The part of him that he’d thought was dead and gone after Heather had died? Wasn’t dead at all. It was alive and kicking and full of piss and vinegar, especially when Brenna was around. Just being close to her made his heart race and made his protective feelings come to the forefront. He was in love with her. She was easy to love, with her happy smiles and carefree attitude.

But he couldn’t tell her that, of course. He’d just go on letting her believe that what they had was nothing but meaningless fun for him, too.

Whatever it took to keep her in his arms? He’d do it.

 • • • 

Elise waited in the living room of the main lodge that served as the headquarters of the survival school. To pass the time, she checked her camera gear for the millionth time. It was a familiar and soothing sort of ritual, and was great for occupying her hands—and her gaze—when she was in uncomfortable situations.

Not that this was an uncomfortable situation at the moment. There was no one in the lodge, so there was no need to be nervous, but she’d been left in here by herself long enough that she was starting to get anxious. Where had Brenna run off to? Her brother’s quirky girlfriend had mentioned something about finding her a test subject, and then had ran off, leaving her alone in the lodge.

She said she hadn’t minded, but leaving her alone for an hour? She was going to lose the best light if they didn’t get started soon. Elise frowned to herself and moved to one of the large windows, judging by the clouds in the sky. The best time to start shooting would be soon, if they didn’t—

“You lost, Little Bo Peep?”

Elise gasped and turned, her hair whirling around her face. Someone was here. She saw the large, tattooed man who they’d just hired and her entire body shrank a bit. He was gorgeous and intimidating and looked just a bit wild—which meant that she wasn’t able to look him in the eye. She was bad about that sort of thing. “B-b-bo Peep?”

He strode forward, and she was pretty sure he was smiling at her . . . or at least, she assumed that since she wouldn’t look at him. “Yeah,” he said. “You know. Little Bo Peep has lost her sheep and all that. Just kinda sprung to my head because you look all lost.”

Oh.
She didn’t know what to say to that. Nothing clever sprang to mind. So she did what she did best—stared down at her shoes and wished the floor would swallow her up.
Stunning conversation there, Elise
, she told herself.
Just blow him away with your wittiness, why don’t you.

But it was hard to be witty around beautiful men. As a photographer and an artist (at least, she liked to think of her photography as art), she had a healthy appreciation for beauty and form. The fact that this tattooed man was sinfully gorgeous and moved like a dancer? Only fed her fantasies. She tried to remember his name and drew a blank. Something exotic and strong and elegant, like him. She hadn’t thought to memorize it, though, because she’d figured she’d never need it.

Men like him didn’t talk to girls like her. Self-conscious, she let her hair swing in front of her face and straightened her shoulders again, careful to tilt the left one higher.

Silence fell in the lodge. Elise continued to stare at the floor, wishing that she could think of something to say to him that would be witty and clever, or outrageous and daring like Brenna. Heck, even something about the weather would be nice. But nothing came to mind at all, and so she began to pray for someone to return and distract him so she could admire him covertly from afar.

No rescue came.

“You’re scared of me. It’s obvious.” His voice was scathing.

“I—” Her voice died into a squeak as she looked up at him. She wasn’t scared of him. He was just way out of her league. He was stunningly beautiful, and he’d never look at a girl like her twice. “I’m not scared.”