by Callie Croix
He’d destroy her. Not on purpose, but it would happen nonetheless.
Trembling, she braced herself for the pain and pushed away. Dillon refused to let her go.
She shook her head. “Stop. Please don’t do this. I can’t...”
The stroke of his lips was infinitely gentle against her neck, her jaw. Exquisitely seductive, so sure of his power over her. “Baby, don’t be afraid of me.”
“I’m not, it’s—” She didn’t dare voice it aloud. He’d never understand.
His hands shifted, one moving to cradle her nape while the other swept down her spine to settle at the small of her back. The gleam in his eyes was hot and knowing, disturbing on so many levels. “You’re afraid of what I make you feel. What I make you want.”
Dropping her gaze to his boots, she nodded miserably.
A large hand cupped her chin and raised her face, forcing her to meet his gaze. “I would never hurt you.”
Not physically, no. “Don’t do this to me.” She was weak, so weak, and he had to sense her wavering. How close she was to giving in to the need twisting inside her.
“I have to. You’re hurting. I want to make it better.”
“No. You can’t.”
A slow smile curved his mouth. “That a challenge, sweetness?”
She shook her head. “No, just—you don’t know.”
“What don’t I know?” His voice was so soft, a sensuous caress against her ear. Tiny shivers skittered down her spine.
Charissa grasped his upper arms to put some space between them, trying to ignore the flutter in her belly when his biceps bunched beneath her hands. No matter how much she wanted him, wanted a taste of what he could offer, she didn’t dare act on it.
He stilled her struggles by pressing his body tighter into hers. Her sensitive breasts grazed a wall of hard muscle, and her stomach cradled the steely length of his cock. “Tell me. Tell me what it is that scared you so bad it made you run and hide from me for almost a damn year.”
Another tight shake of her head.
He nuzzled the side of her neck and the gentle caress made her see stars. “I want you, Charissa. I care about you. Have for so long. I want you naked underneath me, staring up at me with those big blue eyes while I do all the things I’ve dreamed about doing to you. All the things you’ve ever fantasized about me doing to you.”
Oh, God. She was so wet already, fighting the need roaring inside her. “Let me go.”
“So you can run again? No way. Not this time. You came here of your own free will, and I’m not letting you hide from me.”
“I came here for Bridgette.” The lie sounded hollow even to her.
“Bullshit.” He pulled back to stare down at her in the semi-darkness. “She was the excuse you needed to show up. At least have the guts to look me in the eye and admit why you’re really here.”
She opened her mouth to blast him but choked the words back. Okay, she’d partly come here out of a sense of morbid curiosity, just to see if she’d built him up in her head all this time. She’d been sure that Dillon would’ve forgotten her and moved on a long time ago, but now she realized she’d been wrong. Was she merely a challenge he couldn’t resist? The one woman that had managed to escape his seductive lure and he couldn’t stand it?
“You want me.” He said it firmly, emphatically.
In her position, with her hard nipples pressed into his chest, she couldn’t exactly deny it. “So?”
“So, I want to show you exactly how good it can be between us.”
Yeah, and then he’d see exactly all that she didn’t have to offer. “Look,” she began, trying for a reasonable tone though she was staring down more than two hundred pounds of hot, hungry cowboy. “I have no doubt that you’re amazing in bed, and I know you’ve had a lot of practice perfecting your technique, but I haven’t.”
He frowned but didn’t deny his sexual experience. “You haven’t what? Had lots of practice?”
She sighed, tried again to ease him away. This was so embarrassing. Having to talk about this with him of all people. He didn’t budge under the force of her hands. Damn it. “What, you need me to spell it out for you?”
“Yeah.”
Fine. “I have a hard time letting go in bed, all right?”
That got his attention. “Letting go as in...how?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Letting. Go.” Read between the lines, you arrogant jerk.
His frown deepened. “You mean you can’t come?”
God. Her face was so hot it burned. She was thankful for the darkness. “Right. Now take your hands off me.”
“No.” He tipped her chin up with a firm hand. “Is that what all this was about? You keep pushing me away because you’re embarrassed? That’s all that’s bothering you?”
All? “No,” she snapped. “You’re bothering me.” Him, and the way he made her body go haywire just by looking at her.
His expression softened, his hands gentling as he stroked her hair, her spine. “I’ll make you come, sweetness. Don’t you worry about that.”
The absolute confidence in that honeyed voice threatened to make her knees weak. No doubt he knew all sorts of ways to satisfy a woman. She shot him a nasty glare. Her physical inability to reach orgasm with a partner was only a symptom of the real problem.
He claimed he wanted to make it better, but it wouldn’t. Having sex with him would make her insecurity a thousand times worse. The kind of sex he had in mind wasn’t for the emotionally vulnerable. Giving him that sort of control, allowing him to strip away layer upon layer of doubt and self-consciousness, would leave her heart wide open and defenseless.
The man tempted her body mercilessly, even in her sleep. She was the proverbial moth lured by the flame, and if she got close enough to experience its heat, she knew she’d let it consume her. At the end of the weekend, her body might be satisfied, but there’d be nothing left of her heart except ash. And she’d have no one to blame but herself. Flings didn’t interest her, let alone one that would leave her whimpering on a psychiatrist’s couch afterward.
“I promise it’ll be good.” The warm hand on her lower back drifted downward, his long fingers stealing underneath the hem of her shirt to stroke her skin in tantalizing little circles. She caught her breath as he settled his lips on hers. Her whole body cried out in need. She wanted his mouth on her naked flesh, hands holding her in place as he licked and kissed her all over, easing the ache in her nipples and the emptiness between her thighs. She wanted to experience firsthand the wicked things she’d heard from Shay about his kinky sexual preferences.
She wanted to let him seduce her. Dominate her. Tie her up and make her helpless, then use all his considerable expertise to break her free from the sexual prison she existed in. She’d fantasized about that. Had woken up in a sweat on the verge of a climax more times than she could count from vivid dreams about it. But she knew her body. No matter how aroused she got, no matter how close to orgasm she got, something always held her back when she was with a partner. Sometimes even when she was alone.
When he bent to kiss her again, she jerked her head back. “Stop.”
Undeterred, he kissed the corner of her mouth, his warm lips lingering there. “I’ll take care of you.”
Oh, he’d certainly try. No doubt she’d love every second of it, too, even if she couldn’t climax. “Uh-huh. And then you’ll have yet another notch in your bedpost come Monday morning, right?”
He straightened and stared down at her, eyes chilling as his mouth tightened. “It’s not like that.”
Yes, it was. There was no future for them. Just this torturous sexual need between them. Once it was satisfied, he’d forget all about her and move on to his next willing victim with even more swagger in his step, leaving her raw.
With a lump in her throat, she twisted her face away. “I need to go back now.”
****
The bitter, almost fearful expression on her face was like a sucker punch to the gut. Dil
lon didn’t understand where all this was coming from. Did she really believe she meant so little to him? That he could fuck her once like it meant nothing more than scratching an itch and be done with her? She sure seemed convinced of that. Shit, no wonder she’d taken off without a word last year. What had he ever done to give her such a low opinion of him? Male pride aside, this was too important to walk away from. She was too important.
“Hey.” When she refused to look at him, he captured her chin in one hand and turned her face, waiting until she met his gaze. Keeping his grip gentle, he feathered his thumb across the stubborn line of her jaw. “I would never hurt you. I want to take care of you.” So much he ached for it.
“Why?” She hurled it at him like an accusation.
He frowned. Why? “Because I care about you.” She had to know that. How could she not know that after all the time they’d spent together in the past?
The annoyance on her face melted into shock, then something softer. A vulnerability that tugged at him. She didn’t respond, only stared into his eyes as though gauging his sincerity. Like his answer was the last thing she’d expected him to say and she didn’t quite believe it.
Dillon bit back a sigh and curbed the impatience riding him. Holding her this close, smelling her sweet fragrance, was killing him with the need to stake his claim. He still wanted her, always had.
For months, he’d had to content himself with dreaming about her, fantasizing about what it would feel like to hold her, make love to her, while he jacked off alone in his bed. Having her in his arms again was a sweet torture. His cock throbbed painfully against his fly. Words had never been his strong point. Maybe he’d be better off showing her what he meant.
Without giving her a chance to protest, he took her face in his hands and kissed her again. Slowly. Softly enough that she gasped and leaned into him, hungry for more. Melting for him, just like she had all those months before. Her sensual reaction made every inch of him hard.
Wrapping his arms around her back and holding her with enough force to underscore the point that he was in charge, he felt the answering tremor that ripped through her. The telltale reaction eased something inside him and made his heart beat faster.
She wanted this. Wanted him. Her interest and curiosity about exploring her submissive side were still there, though more subdued than it had been a year ago. She didn’t have to say it aloud; he knew what she wanted and would love nothing more than to give it to her. He needed to be the one to unlock the sensual woman inside of her.
He didn’t want her to go looking elsewhere for someone to experiment with and hook up with some jackass who didn’t know what the hell he was doing.
The thought of her going to another man to try and meet her needs made him crazy. He wanted to reveal all the passion he sensed simmering inside her, to give her exactly what she needed and prove she was safe in his arms. He wanted to fulfill every need locked away within her luscious, curvy body, sexual and otherwise. But how did he convince her of that?
“God, Charissa,” he groaned, sliding one hand around to cradle the curve of her breast in his palm. It was so soft, and its hard nipple pressed eagerly against his palm. Every cell in his body demanded he push her, keep seducing her until she gave in to what they both needed. Whatever was holding her back—uncertainty, self-consciousness—he could help her get past it if she gave him a chance.
Despite her initial reluctance, she made a mewling sound and inched closer, arching her back slightly to press her breast harder into his hand. Dillon cupped the full mound and circled his palm, dragging it over the straining nipple. She gasped into his mouth and rubbed against him. A primal growl locked in his throat.
Then, inexplicably, she broke the kiss and yanked away like he’d burned her.
He barely refrained from reaching for her. “What’s wrong?”
She shook her head, covered her face with one hand. “I shouldn’t have done that.” Her hand dropped, revealing the turmoil in her eyes. All traces of the warm, willing woman she’d been just a moment ago were gone. “This was my fault,” she continued, backing up a step as she shook her head. “I shouldn’t have come out here alone with you.”
Ah, Christ. “Stop.”
She watched him warily. As if she half expected him to attack her.
“What just happened?”
“Nothing. I just don’t enjoy being on the receiving end of a power trip.”
Power trip? The frustration eating at him morphed into anger, surging quick and hot through his veins. He stalked over to stand right in front of her, daring her with his eyes to look away. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t want to be controlled,” she snapped. Her eyes flashed blue fire at him.
“No, but you want someone to take your control away in bed.” She’d told him about that fantasy once, months ago. The need to fulfill it had eaten him alive ever since. It surprised him that she couldn’t reach orgasm, but it didn’t worry him. If anything, it made him want to prove to her how wrong she was about her body. He knew without a doubt he could get her off. Because he’d damn well do whatever it took to make it happen.
Charissa stared at him, her pink tongue darting out to trail across her lower lip, as though she could still taste him. But she didn’t deny his words.
Damn, she was driving him insane. Soft and pliant in his arms one moment, then distant and untouchable the next. The constant contradiction was tying him in knots. Trying to understand why she was so afraid of being with him, he tamped down his impatience and softened his tone. “What happened, Charissa?” When she looked away and didn’t answer, a cold knot of suspicion formed in his gut. Christ. “Did someone hurt you that way? Is that why you—”
“I need to get back to my cabin,” she said in a clipped voice, avoiding his gaze. “Can you just take me back now?”
The knot pulled tighter, until it hurt to breathe. Jesus, the thought of anyone hurting her was bad enough, but if they’d done it during sex while she was tied up and helpless... It made him want to hunt down the asshole and rip into him.
Searching her hardened expression for a moment, he finally nodded. “All right. Come on.”
On the silent walk back, he made a promise to himself. Before she left the ranch, he had to win her trust and show her the true beauty of what gentle D/s play could be. And that meant he only had two days left to make that happen.
Chapter Three
The next evening, Charissa laughed out loud at Bridgette’s expression when a female staff member brought out the huge penis-shaped cake and set it on the long center table in front of her. Seated amongst the blown-up condom balloons and wearing a tacky tiara, the bride-to-be let out a whoop and rubbed her hands together in gleeful anticipation.
“I’d say that’s too much of a mouthful even for you, babe,” Charissa called out.
Bridgette shot her a sly look. “Don’t bet on it.” The other women snickered.
“She’s in her element now.” Shay chuckled, obviously enjoying the show.
“She certainly is,” Jessica said in amusement. The curly-haired brunette was quiet, but she seemed like a sweetheart.
“Y’all going dancing after this?” Charissa asked.
“You know it,” Shay replied, casting a longing look at Dustin, who stood in the corner watching her.
Charissa glanced at Jessica. “What about you?”
She swallowed a sip of wine and smiled. “Haven’t made up my mind yet.”
“I heard Deke’s going,” Shay put in with a suggestive wiggle of her brows. “With Dusty and maybe Dane, too.”
But not Dillon, Charissa thought. Too serious, responsible Dillon. While everyone was out having a good time, he’d be back here working. Didn’t the man ever take a night off?
It should have eased her mind to know she’d be safe from him for the night, but it didn’t. Though she’d successfully avoided him all day, hanging with the other women until dinner, he’d finally made an appearan
ce halfway through the surf-n-turf meal. He’d stood silently by the far door of the lodge, surveying everything. Master of his domain, his presence emitting a palpable masculine energy that made people notice him.
When he’d turned those blue eyes on her and met her gaze from across the room, her appetite had completely disappeared under the rush of heat that suffused her body. The sexual tension inside her had ramped up so high she was certain everyone else in the room had to feel it.
Then he’d broken eye contact and left without a word. Leaving her stunned by the disappointment she felt. They’d been friends, and now things were so awkward between them he didn’t even want to approach her. She hated that most of all because she cared about him, admired him. He was serious and dependable, loyal and protective. She loved all those things about him.
“Here she goes,” Shay said in delight. Charissa shoved aside her gloomy thoughts and watched as Bridgette sliced up the penis cake and made a show of licking the icing off the stiletto-shaped cake server, earning her several whistles and catcalls. The bride was having a great time. Charissa decided she would get into the spirit of things, since the bachelorette party was the whole reason she’d come here in the first place.
Liar.
Everyone got a big piece of cake. The flesh-colored icing looked disgusting but actually tasted good. She traded bawdy comments with Shay and her cousin, Sara, a raven-haired school teacher with an impressive repertoire of dirty jokes and eyes that kept devouring Dane. Not that Charissa blamed her. All the Dumen boys were something to look at. She’d finally met all of them now.
Dusty, the youngest, was guest services manager. Dane, who had sandy blond hair long enough to brush his collar, helped out on the ranch. Deke, with dark brown hair, was some sort of military paramedic. And Dillon. Manager of the ranch, in command of everything and everyone. Especially himself.
Made her wonder what it would take to make him lose that iron control.
“You still coming with me?”
