The Expert's Guide to Driving a Man Wild (20 page)

“So you feel guilty?”

“I should, shouldn’t I?” Grant’s mouth twisted angrily. “But I mostly feel resentment toward her. She destroyed both of our lives, all because she needed some kind of fucking rush. That I wasn’t enough to make her happy, and she fucked up my life, too. I think any love I had for her or her memory has been destroyed by resentment.”

“Oh, Grant,” Brenna whispered, her heart aching for him. “It wasn’t you. It was never you. She was just looking for something that she didn’t have inside herself. That’s all.”

His fingers laced with hers, still clutching her tight, as if he were afraid to let go of her. His gaze locked on their twined fingers. “So now you know why I seem a bit anal-retentive about things. Why I like order and schedules and precautions. Because those are what keep you safe.”

And it was why he didn’t want her going out in the rain on an ATV to chase after someone. Not because he was afraid she’d hurt herself—but that she’d get addicted to the rush that came with being in danger, and then he’d lose her, too. Brenna’s heart softened and she pulled him against her, cradling his dark head against her neck. He was stiff against her for a moment, and then relaxed, his arms wrapping around her waist.

Brenna’s thoughts were in turmoil. Grant had always seemed like he was so together, so in control. In reality? He seemed just as broken as she was. He just hid it even better than she did. Every day that she was with him, she found out he was more like her than she’d ever imagined possible.

Her hand rubbed his big shoulders, his skin warm. “Why don’t you take a shower, baby? You’ll feel better.”

But he didn’t move, though she felt his mouth press against her neck. “Take one with me?”

She nodded and wriggled out of his grasp, getting to her feet. “We need to get out of these wet clothes first.”

A half smile crooked his mouth, almost wistful in its sadness. “Why does that sound like a pick-up line?”

“Because it is one? Now hush and let my fingers do the talking.” She unbuckled his belt and pushed it aside, then went for his zipper. Her fingers rubbed up and down his groin as she slowly moved the zipper down, and she heard his swift intake of breath that told her he was paying quite a bit of attention to what she was doing. With a wickedly happy purr that she could turn him on so quickly, Brenna tugged at his damp clothes until they fell to his ankles, and leaned in and gave a kiss to his stiffening cock, then flicked him with her tongue.

He groaned, his hands going to her damp hair. “You’re still dressed.”

“Don’t worry,” she told him. “I plan on fixing that right away.” And she stood up and shimmied out of her top, then peeled her wet jeans down her legs. Excitement was coursing through her, but more than that, she wanted to distract Grant, to comfort him and make him realize that he was wonderful and exciting to her, and that his first wife had been an idiot.

She kicked aside her wet clothes and sauntered past him to the still-running shower, leaning in to test the water. Still hot. “Come on, stud,” she told him as she stepped into the water. “You are going to receive one primo rub down, courtesy of your lovely assistant.”

“My assistant is more than lovely,” he said in a low, husky voice, and cupped her cheek. “She’s stunningly beautiful and kind.” Another grin touched his mouth, this one easier than before. “She’s a little weird but I’m learning to like that.”

Brenna winked at him and poured a huge dose of bath gel into her hand, then rubbed her palms together. She planted them on his chest and began to rub vigorously, lathering him. She started out brisk, anyhow. The more she touched those slick, soapy muscles, the more fascinated she became with his body. After a few moments of washing, she began to slowly trace her fingers over his pectorals, then dragged them up and down his abdomen, dipping into his belly button. “You sure do have a sexy body.”

“I have an even sexier assistant,” he told her, leaning in to kiss her shoulder even as she reached behind him and soaped his hard buttocks. “I’m a pretty lucky guy.”

“You are,” she told him, and grabbed the bottle of bath gel again. She squirted a long rope of it over his shoulders, then tossed the container aside, putting her hands on him again.

“Are you using enough soap?”

“Maybe,” she said in a low voice. “Maybe I just like putting my hands all over you.” And she began to rub the streaming lather on him all over again.

He dragged a hand across his shoulders, scooping up some of the bath gel. “You’ve got enough on me that I could wash you, too.” He began to rub her arms, then slid his hands to her front, flicking her nipples.

A hot rush of pleasure shot through her and Brenna moaned. “I think I need to get your back, baby,” she told him, even as she stepped closer. Her arms went around his neck and she began to kiss him as she stroked soapy hands up and down his shoulders.

“You kind of suck at washing,” he told her while caressing her skin.

“You were paying attention? I clearly need to up my game.” And she dragged the tip of her tongue across his lower lip.

He groaned. “You’re really good at that.”

“Upping my game or licking you?”

“Both.”

She ran her tongue along the hard line of his jaw as her hand slid to his ass and squeezed. “I could lick you all over, you know.”

He held her to him, his hands running all over her body. “You’re so beautiful, Brenna. When I’m with you, I forget about everything else.”

For some reason, that made her absurdly pleased. And now she wanted to please him even more. She took her hand and wrapped it around the hard length of him, giving him a slippery stroke. Grant’s breath hissed out of his mouth and then he clung to the shower bar, his gaze hot on her as she stroked his cock with her slick, soapy hands. Slow, excruciatingly tender motions. She took her time, not moving so quick that he’d come instantly. This was all about pleasure, and this was all for him. She wanted to make him feel better.

He leaned against the tile wall of the shower, eyes closing when she increased the pressure of her fist as she stroked him. “Brenna, let up. Let me get a condom.”

She stroked him as she considered it. Then she pressed her other hand to his chest to pin him in place, and she stroked her fist around his cock again. “Nah. I like it here.”

His eyes grew dark with need. “You don’t want me to touch you?”

“Oh, I do. But I like touching you so much that I’m kind of loath to stop.” Stroke. “So I thought I might just continue to have my evil way with you.” Stroke. “Until you lose control.” Stroke. “Because I think I’d like to see that.”

And she tightened her fist and squeezed hard. “Now say my name,” she teased. “And tell me that you belong to me.”

“Brenna,” he bit out, his voice tight with desire. His gaze hadn’t left her face for an instant, utterly focused on her. “I am totally and completely yours.”

Oh, how she liked hearing that. It made her wet and excited all over again, and she stroked him again as a reward. “Tell me again?”

“Yours,” he bit out, and then his hand wrapped around hers and he began to stroke his cock with her hand, using her hard and rough.

A moment later, he came on her belly, his gaze totally riveted to her. And she was about to come herself, just from watching him. It was a mixture of eroticism and satisfaction, and something else she couldn’t quite name. Neither one of them moved for a long moment as he panted, trying to get his breath back, even though the water was growing steadily colder.

He hauled her close and wrapped his arms around her, burying his face against her neck and in her wet hair. “I love you, Brenna.”

And she opened her mouth before she realized it, then snapped it shut.

She had almost said “I love you” back to him. That was the weird, niggling little sensation she’d been feeling all afternoon. It wasn’t lust or pride or possession. It was all of those wrapped into one. And it was love.

Brenna was in love with Grant.

And that really, really freaked her out.

T
hat evening, they lay in bed together. Grant was asleep, his arm wrapped possessively over her torso, one hand clutching her breast, his hips spooned against her own. Brenna, however, couldn’t sleep. In her mind, she kept going over that afternoon.

Grant’s first wife had been a selfish woman, Brenna decided. Oh, she’d been blond and cute and happy enough in the photos that Grant had of her, but she’d clearly made him miserable. She’d also made him think he was the problem in the relationship, even though every single sign pointed to something clearly unstable inside of Heather’s head and not Grant’s. What kind of woman went from mild-mannered college student to rhino-hunting, shark-swimming, Mount-Everest-climbing swinger who needed constant thrills?

The kind of woman who wrecked her husband in her wake and didn’t even realize it, Brenna thought, her hand stroking over Grant’s larger one. She would never do that to him.

Her hand stilled. She had secrets of her own, though. Just as horrible and maybe even more embarrassing than that. Secrets that had fucked her up in the head and made it impossible for her to have normal relationships. So who was she to say that she’d be there for Grant?

She couldn’t. Her life was the way it was because it was safest.

But for the first time, Brenna wanted more than what she had. And she didn’t know how to handle that.

She needed to talk to Miranda and Beth Ann. Maybe they’d be able to help her see things clearly. Because right now? She feared things were doomed, and she was going to hurt Grant just as badly as Heather did, if not worse. If he knew her past he’d want nothing to do with her. He’d leave and she’d be left picking up the pieces.

And that thought hurt. A lot.

She crept out of bed a bit later, when she was sure that Grant was soundly sleeping and wouldn’t wake up. She pulled on a pair of his pajamas and headed down to the main lodge, yawning.

Grant needed something to cheer him up, and she knew the perfect way to distract him. Sitting down at her desk, she pulled out the keys to the supply closet and headed there. Sure enough, at the bottom of the closet, there were a few rolls of cheerfully bright wrapping paper left over from Pop’s birthday last month. They’d jokingly bought him the most childish, garish paper they could find, knowing he’d get a kick out of it. And there was plenty left over . . . and more than enough for her to cover Grant’s desk.

Grabbing a bright pink roll of princess paper, she picked up the scissors and set to work. Strange how she’d swap a few hours of sleep and hours of her time just to get a smile on Grant’s face.

Yeah, she definitely needed to meet with her friends as soon as possible, because she had it
bad.

 • • • 

At Brenna’s request, Beth Ann and Miranda met her at Maya Loco for lunch and drinks. It was the busiest time for the restaurant, but it was also the only time Miranda and Beth Ann could both meet. Beth Ann hated leaving her salon for long periods of time, and Miranda closed the library for her lunch hour.

Brenna had simply left the main lodge while Grant had been out at the office supply store a few towns over. He’d come back and wonder where she was, but she’d left him a goofy little note.
Roses are red, violets are blue, went to lunch with the girls, but I’ll come back and blow you.

It wasn’t the first time she’d abandoned her job midday, but the first time she’d left Grant a note so he wouldn’t worry. Hell, it was downright domestic of her, and that was concerning. After all, now she was thinking about Grant’s feelings and his emotions. She never had before. And even as she left him the note? She felt a little . . . anxious. Trapped. Worried. Because they’d gone from casual sex to emotional sex within the space of a week or two, and it was freaking her out. Two weeks ago, the last thing she wanted was a real relationship. Now?

Now she didn’t know what to do.

She was the first one to arrive at the restaurant, so she ordered a margarita and then proceeded to down it in the space of a minute, between bites of chips and salsa. When the waiter asked if she wanted another, she made a rolling motion with her hand, indicating that he should keep them coming. By the time Miranda and Beth Ann showed up together, she was halfway through sucking down her third.

Miranda slid into the booth on the opposite side of her, her eyes wide at the empty margarita glasses. “Wow. Bad day? You fighting with Grant again?”

“No,” Brenna said miserably. “We’re awesome. That’s the problem.”

“Why’s that a problem, honey?” Beth Ann slid in next to Brenna. “You both seem pretty happy lately.”

“Oh sure.” Brenna waved a hand, wishing she were drunker and the thought of their being happy together didn’t hurt so much at the moment. “It’s all fun and games until someone loses an eye. Or their heart.”

“Huh?” Miranda shook her head. “You need to eat to kill that margarita buzz, or I’m going to have to drive you back to the ranch.” She raised a hand for the waiter. “We need three coffees over here, please.”

“Some of us are trying to get drunk, Miranda soon-to-be-Croft.” Brenna glanced over at Beth Ann. “And Beth Ann Waggoner.”

Beth Ann beamed at the mention of her new last name. “Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

It did, and she was so ridiculously happy that it almost hurt to look at her. She and Colt had moved together seamlessly after their initial clash, and now they were so tight that it seemed like they’d always been a couple, instead of a fairly new one. She’d only been Beth Ann Waggoner for a few weeks now, and Colt’s girlfriend for not much longer. But it was clear that they were deeply in love.

Brenna Markham
, she tested on her tongue, but wasn’t unhappy with it. Which only made her feel more jumbled inside.

“What’s bothering you, Brenna?” Miranda asked as the three coffee mugs were set down in front of them.

“I’m just . . . not sure what to do.”

“About Grant? It’s clear he’s crazy about you.”

“He will be until he finds out the truth.” Brenna couldn’t help herself. She looked at Miranda’s wrist to see if she was wearing her purple bracelet. No sign of it. For some reason, that made Brenna sad. She should have kept the bracelet. But keeping stuff led to other things, and those other things terrified Brenna.

Both Miranda and Beth Ann were giving her concerned looks, clearly waiting for her to go on. She didn’t, though. They were her friends, but she couldn’t tell them her deepest, darkest secret. She couldn’t tell them any of it. So she deflected. “Grant told me some stuff about his first wife. Did you guys know her?”

“Heather? We knew her in high school, but they both went off to college together and we didn’t see her again after that.”

“What was she like?”

Miranda glanced at Beth Ann, then shrugged. “She was cute. Cheerful. Easily bored.”

“A bit of a daredevil,” Beth Ann added. “Remember we used to have slumber parties and she’d always be the one to suggest Truth or Dare? Girl never found a dare she didn’t like.”

“But she was nice,” Miranda said. “Really nice. Everyone in town liked her. We were all sad when we heard she passed.”

Couldn’t even bury my own wife,
Grant had said miserably. Because her body was stuck somewhere on Mount Everest, where people just climbed past it, heads full of their own daredevil quests. He’d thought he’d somehow not been enough for her and she’d turned to thrill seeking. But it seemed like the seed of it was there all along. She wondered if she should tell Grant. Would that assuage some of his guilt or just bring up old memories that he didn’t want to relive?

“Why do you ask?” Beth Ann prodded, reaching into the chip bowl and nibbling daintily. “Grant say something about her?”

“A little,” Brenna hedged. “He told me he loved me last night.”

Miranda gasped and then clapped her hands in excitement. “Oh my gosh. That is so great! I’ve always wanted you two to be together! So you accepted his proposal?”

“Proposal?” Beth Ann looked shocked. “He proposed?”

This conversation was going from bad to worse. Brenna stared into her now-empty margarita glass, wishing she had another. “It’s not great, and no, I didn’t accept his proposal.”

Miranda’s excited clapping died.

“Why is it not great, honey?” Beth Ann asked softly, her voice gentle.

“Because I’m afraid of hurting him again,” Brenna admitted, misery in her voice. She shoved aside her empty margarita glass and pulled the steaming coffee toward her. “Heather destroyed him. Totally broke him. It’s awful. What if I do the same thing to him?”

Miranda and Beth Ann shared a look. “How would you do the same thing to him, Bren?” Miranda asked. “You planning on climbing Mount Everest?”

“Of course not.” But she had secrets. Big, ugly ones. Just like Heather had. And those secrets were relationship destroyers. She’d seen it happen time and time again. Her mother’s relationships had never survived it, and Brenna had the scars to show for it. “But . . . I just don’t know what to do.”

“About what? You’re confusing me.”

“I’m pretty confused myself, don’t worry.” Brenna sighed. “Let’s say your past sucked, and you don’t want Grant to know about it. What do you do, then?”

“You tell him,” Miranda said.

“Let’s say telling him is not an option.”

“You tell him,” Beth Ann said, reaching for another chip. “And if he’s the one for you, he won’t hold it against you.”

“But what if he can’t help but be freaked out by it? How can he not look at me differently?”

“This isn’t about an STD, is it?” Miranda looked concerned. “Because you really need to tell him if that’s the case.”

“Gross! No. Not an STD.” Brenna cupped her hands around her coffee, thinking. “Just something . . . unsavory in my past. I don’t want him to look at me differently.”

“Are you in love with him, too?” Beth Ann asked. “I was under the impression that things were just casual between you two and that was how you wanted it. No strings, no nothing.”

“I thought that was how I wanted it,” Brenna said glumly. “And then he told me he loved me and told me about Heather and now I can’t stop thinking about things being different, and what it means for me.”

“You have cold feet,” Miranda announced.

Brenna straightened in the booth, frowning. “What do you mean, I have cold feet?”

“You are commitment phobic,” Miranda told her with a grin. She grabbed a few packets of sweetener for her coffee and tore them open. “I feel the need to throw in a ‘duh’ here but thought that might be unfair.”

Beth Ann gave a ladylike snort and sipped her coffee.

Brenna glanced at both women, uncertain. “You make it sound like it’s a bad thing.”

“It’s not . . . unless you fall in love.” Miranda’s mouth quirked. “Take it from someone with experience.”

“I never said I was in love,” Brenna protested.

“You never said you weren’t,” Beth Ann told her in a softer voice. “Honey, if you think it’s a big deal, just tell him about your past. Whatever it is, he’ll accept it because he loves you. And if he doesn’t, then he wasn’t the man for you anyhow.”

“Easy for you to say,” Brenna muttered. “Colt doesn’t have a shitty past. Pop’s awesome.”

Beth Ann gave another ladylike snort. “Are you kidding me? His past is weirder than you’ll ever know.”

“Oh?” Miranda perked up. “How so?”

But Beth Ann only shook her head. “It’s Colt’s story and he wouldn’t want me telling it.”

Miranda looked curious, but only shrugged. “The past doesn’t determine everything. Heck, look at my past. I wanted to get out of this town because everyone talked to my chest and called me Boobs of Bluebonnet. And so I left, and then I came right back because I missed it anyhow. It wasn’t that I missed being called Boobs. It was that I’d lose more than I gained by leaving. Like friends and family and Dane . . .” She had a pleased look on her face at the latter. “No one’s called me Boobs since I got engaged. Having a big, muscular fiancé puts a new perspective on things for most people.”

“Mine’s worse than being called ‘Boobs’,” Brenna said glumly. “But I’ll think about it.”

“What do you have to lose?” Miranda asked.

Everything
, Brenna wanted to reply, but she simply shrugged. Because she’d seen it happen too many times in the past. There were things people could get past. And there were things that some people just couldn’t get past no matter how much they claimed differently.

And she suspected she knew how things would fall if she exposed her past to Grant.

But it was either that, or continue as they were. In stasis. Grant confessing his love for her, and her demanding things be completely free and without attachments. How long would that last?

Not long enough. Glum at the thought, Brenna stared longingly at her empty margarita glass.

“None of that sad face now,” Beth Ann told her with a pat on her hand. “So when are you going to come by and let me play with your hair?”

“Hmm?”

“Oh, I suggested to Elise that if she stays in town for a while, we try a joint venture. Pin-up photography. We agreed that since you have the Bettie Page bangs, you’d rock a serious retro look. We want you to be our test subject.” She grinned and reached for another chip. “Basically we’ll do your hair and makeup and dress you up in some glam clothing and take sexy pictures of you. Sound like fun?”

“What did you have in mind?”

Beth Ann popped the chip into her mouth, chewed, and then turned to play with Brenna’s bangs. “We could curl these into a roll, or give you a retro upsweep. We’ll experiment a bit.”

Brenna shrugged again. “Sounds like fun. Can I wear it home? Surprise Grant?”

“Just don’t have sex in the clothing,” Beth Ann said. “Or you’re paying the dry-cleaning bill.”

“Great, now I’m picturing Brenna and Grant having sex, and I really didn’t want to,” Miranda lamented. “Now
I
need a margarita.”

“So why all the business plans?” Brenna asked, sliding her bowl of salsa closer and digging into the chips. “I thought you and Colt were heading off to Alaska for a few weeks as soon as Rome’s trained.”

“We’re leaving in two weeks,” Beth Ann said breathlessly, practically bouncing in her seat. “I’m so excited to have a month of alone time with him. Between our schedules, it seems like one of us is always coming or going. It’ll be nice to have a few days of nothing but lounging in bed.”