I lean in and whisper, “You look like a naughty one to me. I bet you like a good spanking.” Maybe the thought of corporal punishment will make her squirm.
“You’re into punishing women?” She practically mouths the words ecstatic.
“No.” Geez. Crap. This is going in the wrong direction. “Hell, no. Well, maybe—I’m talking about a good old fashioned whipping.” That didn’t sound any better, but it doesn’t stop my grin from spreading wider than it needs to. Maybe if she thinks I’m a freak, she’ll gallop her stilettos right out of here. “I don’t consider it a crime that I know my way around a riding crop. It just so happens that the recipient is usually in need of a very thorough punishment.” I cinch my lips a moment. Marley is suddenly starry-eyed at the prospect of a good flogging, and a perverted part of me is glad she’s on board. “Now, tell me”—I growl into her ear before blowing a hot breath—“have you been good or bad?”
“Oh, professor!” She groans a little too loud, a little too enthusiastically. “I’ve been a very, very bad little girl!” Her lids blink in rapid succession, and, for a moment, I wonder if this is all a put-on, and she’s been yanking my chain the entire time.
I give a quick glance around as if expecting a hidden camera to catch the spectacle.
“Come on.” She ticks her head. “What else have you got?” Her finger flicks my earlobe, and instinctually I groan. “Give it to me all at once. I want to know exactly how naughty the Professor can be.”
“I bite,” I say it stern as anything. “All the time. In very delicate places.” There. If the idea of having the most tender part of her grazed doesn’t send her hurdling for the exit, nothing will.
“Wow, really?” Her brows flex in an awkward range that lets me know she’s not sure whether to be appalled or impressed. She shoots a nervous glance to Annie at the bar.
That a girl. I loosen my grip in the event she feels the need to test out the sprinting capabilities of her heels.
“Okay, then,” she whispers. “I guess it’s safe for me to divulge a few secrets of my own.” She nuzzles in tight until her face is just inches from my own. “I like to lick. A lot. In very delicate places.” Her teeth graze over her lip, and I pull back a notch before my body fills her in on how unreasonably excited this suddenly has me. “In fact”—she strokes my chest with her finger—“I plan to spend an entire night, tasting every last inch of you.” Her hand slips between my legs. “Does that make you uncomfortable?”
“Nope,” my voice pitches as I swallow hard. “But, fair warning, I’m not as tasty as I look.” Is bad hygiene really the direction I want to head in? I have my limit, and I think we just hit it.
Marley tilts back and strums out a laugh. “Well, then, I’ll have to bathe you in chocolate first. I’m not afraid to add a little buffet to the mix. If you can eat it…you can”—she hikes up on the balls of her feet and takes a hard bite from my ear—“eat it.” She backs up, her eyes lit up like blue flames.
I don’t have any objection to eating any part of Marley Jackson.
“This is really going to happen?” It’s more of a rhetorical question at this point.
“Nine short days, cowboy.” She taps my nose with her finger, that determined gaze of hers never leaving mine.
A thought comes to me. “I am a cowboy. Do you have plans for tomorrow afternoon?”
“I might.” She cocks her head to the side as if assessing my motives.
“Cancel. You’re coming horseback riding with me.”
Marley freezes in my arms. “I’m terrified of horses.”
Better than I thought.
“Then it’ll be that much more thrilling.” I rub her back trying to coax her into the idea.
The more things we do that terrify her, the less time she’ll want to spend with me.
Nine days. Plenty of time for her to take a mental U-turn.
After several rounds of Marley molding into me, the band starts up with its head banging rhythm once again, and, instead of implementing my monkey moves, I cry uncle. I say goodnight to Marley and Annie and note my briefcase is missing. Instead, neatly stowed under my jacket is a familiar looking Louis Vuitton briefcase, same shape and size as mine—but undeniably different. Monica is coming after me hard, so it doesn’t completely surprise me.
That contract blinks through my mind. It’s tucked in the middle among a pile of ad campaigns thick as a telephone book, and, for once, I’m relieved that I’m a hoarder at heart.
I stopped by Monica’s place before I came home last night. In the grand scheme of things, I think the briefcase swap was nothing more than a nightcap in disguise. I firmly stood on the porch and waited while she made the chaste exchange. She offered me a movie with pizza and wine, but I kindly declined. A part of me was afraid if I went in, I would have done something regrettable. This deal I’ve made with Marley has me in a dry spell for the next week and a half. I’m not a fan of dry spells. There’s a reason I have my body checked out regularly. It’s been put to use so much, I’m afraid the damn thing is going to fall right off.
Around eleven, Marley shows up at the ranch with her hair swinging in a ponytail, painted on jeans and a pair of cowboy boots that look as if they were made for this place—for me to enjoy if you want to get specific. The sun lights her up from behind, and her hair glows with an otherworldly effect. She’s a sight to see, and, suddenly, I’m thanking God I’ve lived long enough to do just that.
“Morning!” I head over squinting just to take in her full glory. “It’s time to give you a proper welcome to the Golden Oaks Ranch.”
“Are all these horses yours?” She gives a little hop and almost slips on the icy terrain. The snow is still stacked on the lower bows of the evergreens but for the most part it’s been cleared off the main thoroughfares.
“Not a single one. I rent out the stables.”
“Well, since there’s a shortage of horses, looks like I’ll have to ride a cowboy.” She swings her body around mine in a violent hug, and I groan as she casually socks me in the nuts with her knee. “Am I looking at the stud I’m going to saddle up on? I figured the mental imagery of my body restrained, spread eagle over your bed, all that talk about riding crops might have gotten you in the mood to bump up our play date.” Her cool fingers glide over my brow. A peaceable look crosses her features for a moment as if everything else were simply an act.
“Not today.” I nod toward the stable. “We have permission to ride. Let’s take a couple of these bad boys for a spin. Shall we?”
Marley and I get situated and start in slow as her horse follows mine toward the ravine at the base of the property. Thirty-five acres of ranchland sounds like a hell of a lot, but most of it is either up or down hill, depending how you look at it. Not buildable but beautiful. God’s country. The snow is starting to melt, creating a muddy wash near the bottom.
I stop over by the anemic stream and help Marley off her horse.
“Did you like that?” The urge to plant a kiss over the top of her head comes, and I manage to resist. It feels natural like this with Marley. It feels more than natural for me to want to kiss her.
“Are you kidding? This morning I would have rather gouged my eyes out with a fistful of number two pencils than piled on a mustang, but it turns out I loved it!” She gives a little hop while taking off her gloves.
A part of me demands to be disappointed that she loved it, but I’m quick to push that version of myself off a mental cliff. I’m glad she enjoyed it. This is a part of my life, and I’d like to share it with her on an ongoing basis. Not sure if it’s a reality but maybe after she comes out of her boyfriend-bashing stupor, she’ll want to be friends. I’d like that. I’d like more than that, too.
“Really?” My arms land over her shoulder. “Most girls I bring don’t really think too highly of the experience.”
“That’s because you’ve been dabbling in the wrong kind of girls. Speaking of girls, I ran that little business manifesto by Baya, and she thinks you’re a ge
nius.” Her arms circle my waist as we meander toward the creek.
“Do you think I’m a genius?” For whatever reason my ego is craving that extra stroke.
“I’ll wait until night one to decide.”
A caustic laugh boils from me. “Come night one, you’ll be nominating me for the Nobel Peace Prize.”
“Nobel, huh?” She purrs into me, her face inching closer to mine. “I was sort of hoping you were the polar opposite of peaceful. Do they have a prize for discord?”
“I get it, you like a little chaos beneath the sheets.”
“That’s right, boss—and don’t forget it.”
I wince at the moniker.
“Did I strike a nerve?” She touches my lips with her finger. “Let me guess. You prefer the term ‘professor.’”
“That’s one position I can’t get fired from.” Monica runs through my mind, and I shuttle her right back out. “Tell me something about yourself.” I wrap my arm around her waist and start us on a meandering walk following the stream.
“I’m a transvestite, so you’ll have a bit of a surprise ‘night one’—a treat, depending how you feel about it.”
“I’m not laughing. Something else.”
“I like piña coladas and getting caught in the rain.”
“Now that I can get into.”
“Yeah, but I actually like the thought of making love at all hours, so I’m not so much a purist when it comes to my seventies music.”
I pull her in with a silent laugh. “Point taken, and I like your version better. You like sushi?”
“Love it, why? You about to catch a fish with your bare hands and serve it to me raw?”
A deep belly laugh pulses from me. I haven’t felt this relaxed around a woman in a long time. “Thanks, I needed that.”
“No, I’m serious.” She wraps her other arm around me as we continue our trek downstream. “You’re like superman. You’re good at everything. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least if you stuck your hands in that freezing water and came up with a trout the size of my arm. It’s sort of a you thing to do.”
“You don’t know me well enough to say that.”
“I’ve been watching you this week at Capwell, the way the other employees look up to you like you have every answer under the sun at your fingertips. You’re like a walking, talking rendition of Google.”
“That’s because ninety percent of them are interns. I’m paid to know more than they do. And, believe me, I’m not paid too much more than they are.” Although, in all fairness, the ranch provides more than enough for me to live off for the rest of my life. My father isn’t nearly as generous with his time as he is with his money.
“Don’t they work for free?”
“Exactly.” I touch my finger to her nose, and our eyes connect. A spike of heat rips through my chest. For a micro-second I’m convinced I’m having a cardiac episode. Marley is beautiful enough to induce one in any healthy male.
“What are you thinking?”
I press my lips together for a moment resisting the urge to kiss her. “I’m thinking about the body count you’re going to amass in this lifetime if you’re not careful. I think being in your presence—sleeping with you—should require a medical bill of clean health.”
“Boy, your mind wanders right to the ominous, doesn’t it? Are you afraid a little cardio with me might result in a casket fitting?”
“I’m healthy.”
“Guess what?” She plucks her phone out and pulls up a screenshot. “So am I. Got my results back this morning. I guess the only thing keeping distance between you and me is time.”
“Eight days.”
“Seven nights.” She bats her lashes seductively. Marley hikes up on the balls of her feet and moves in a few inches, her lips parting in anticipation.
“Seven nights,” I pant into her mouth before the horses whinny, and I pull away. “I think we should hold off on all extra-curricular sports until the day of. You know, let the anticipation build up, then shoot off like a truck full of fireworks.”
Her pink lips twist in a knot. Her eyes seethe to vengeful slits. Something tells me she’s not a big fan of the waiting game.
“I swear I’ve never met anyone like you.”
“That’s what you keep saying.” My arm cinches around her waist as we head back toward the horses. “What would you have done if I had said no?”
Marley takes in a breath that expands the girth of her chest in a way that only a contemplative thought can.
“I guess I would have found someone else.”
“Oh, yeah? Here’s what I think about that.” I reach down and scoop up a mountain of snow and pile it on top of her head.
“You did not just do that!” Marley breaks free and traps a handful of snow hurling it my way, but the powder sprays out to nothing before it can reach me.
“You throw snow like a girl,” I tease.
“You did not just say that!” A small cry escapes her as she digs in with all she’s got and hoists an avalanche in my direction. “One thing you’d better know about me, I’m fiercely competitive!”
“Nice work.” I beam her in the arm, and she gives a maniacal laugh as she packs together a snowball the size of a brick. “Turns out I’m competitive, too!”
We spend the next half hour laughing our heads off, pelting one another with rounds of snow the size of volleyballs.
“I give!” I fall back on a cushion of ice, and my very sore muscles crave every last inch of it. Another snowball pelts me in the side of the head. “Go easy on me, would you? Man down.” I hold up my arms a moment before gravity takes over.
She slides in next to me, panting. Her hair peppered with bits of ice. “Is that what you’re going to say after I wear you out in the sack?”
“You’re not going to wear me out in the sack, sweetie. You’ll be too busy struggling to get free.” I pull her over me as if it were a commonplace gesture, and our laughter quickly subsides. Marley takes in a breath and holds it. “Sorry.” I loosen my grip, but she steadies herself over me.
“Don’t be. I’m not.” She traces out my lips with her finger. Marley examines my features one inch at a time. “Why did you say yes?” She breathes the words in a whisper.
“Because I don’t think I can refuse you anything.”
“Brilliant answer.”
It’s the truth.
I’m with Cupid
Marley
Valentine’s Day is sort of an awkward holiday to have crop up if you’ve just started dating someone, let alone if you’ve just penned an agreement to strictly utilize them for coital purposes. It’s a Sunday, which also puts me in that awkward space between school and work the next day. I’m exhausted because, for one, Baya and I spent all morning getting lost in thrift stores. Who knew you could go broke in those kinds of places? Lucky for me, Baya paid for most of everything. I tried to stop her, but she said if I sewed the clothes we’d be more than even. We spent the rest of the afternoon going over the game plan that Wyatt mapped out for us (I may have let it leak about the special contract he whipped up for me. And I have a feeling whips will be an integral part of our experimentation sessions but I digress. Baya thinks we’re both freaks of nature and couldn’t be happier for us.)
“Oh”— I take another sip of my latte—“He’s just the first of many. My goal is to hit twelve or thirteen before I lay it all out in black and white and have it bound as a hardback.”
“Baker’s dozen? That sounds like a nice place to land.” She grimaces in lieu of a smile like maybe it’s not. She checks her phone. “It’s three! Gotta run. Bryson’s whisking me away for a special V-Day vacay!”
I groan as she zips out the door. Baya and Bryson are another oddity in the love department.
Later in the evening, Annie talks me into going to the Black Bear, and that’s exactly where I find myself standing at the moment.
“Well, look who cupid dragged in?” Jemma pops up looking bedraggled as ever with a
n e-cigarette dripping from her mouth. Her hair is crimped in twelve different directions, and she had the good sense to smash an oversized glitter bow to the side of her head. I swear there’s a twelve-year-old girl out there somewhere wondering where the hell her hair accessory is at.
“Did you come to be my Valentine?” I pull her into a nice tight hug. Despite all her obvious crazy, I love my sister to pieces.
Izzy pops up by her side with her arm wrapped around her fiancé’s waist. I suppose if I had a fiancé, I wouldn’t want to let him out of my sight either. Will, the ass, comes to mind. Somehow I’ve managed to keep a secure distance between the two of us outside of our one class together. I should give lessons on the fine art of avoiding an annoying ex. He sent me a text saying We’re even! after I left him out in the cold literally. We’re even? Oh, honey, even isn’t on the horizon just yet.
“Are you kidding? I came to get my Valentine on.” Jemma slams her hip into mine. “Where are all the good looking men? You hoarding those for yourself?” Jemma sways on her platform glitter heels. If Jemma’s general attitude doesn’t say enough about her personality, her fashion pairings should explain it all. When I say Jemma has the style sense of a pre-teen, I’m not kidding. “Izzy says you’ve been seen a time or two with a real man wrapped around your body. Where is this beefcake, so I can size him up myself?”
Izzy shrinks into me and mouths the word sorry.
“No worries. And, no, we’re not seeing each other. Wyatt and I simply have a business relationship. He’s my boss.” I figure if I come at this pragmatically I’ll defuse the potentially sexually infused, and always embarrassing, fiasco that only Jemma can drum up.
“Nothing like a little overtime under the covers to work your way up the ladder!” Jemma does a little twirl cementing the fact she’s pickled, and, judging by the volatile odor stemming from her breath, I’m guessing her weapon of choice was whiskey.
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” I say before turning to her partner in crime. “You taking her keys?”
Valentine's Day Kisses : Boxed Set Page 28
