by Lindsey Hart
Man, I’m screwed up.
A gust of wind kicked up again, driving sand into the very pores of her face. June grimaced and put her head down. The trail, which was just a long stretch of desert, a few hills, neat desert looking plants, and a hell of a lot of sand, seemed to go on forever.
She’d worn a sweater and a jacket, but seeing as it was November, it was rather cold in Vegas. Not at all like the sweltering picture she was promised on the internet. She’d thought her vacay would be spent relaxing by the poolside and was disappointed, and a little embarrassed, to find out that most pools were closed unless they were indoors.
Even with her extra layers of clothes, the wind bit right into her skin. It was so cold her teeth chattered. She couldn’t help it. She lived in San Diego. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d actually been freezing. Then again, she also lived in the city. It wasn’t wide open like the trail they walked at a snail’s pace.
It was laughable that she’d feared falling off the horse or it going wild. The pace was far too slow for that. She wished they could kick it up a notch and get the hell back to where it was warm.
She raised her head and glanced at Brock’s back. He was tucked down low, one hand on the horse, the other shielding his eyes.
It gave her a perverse amount of satisfaction that he was blinded by the grit just like the rest of them. She cursed him for making her come on this horrible ride. The horse was fine, but the cold and the wind and the sand were unbearable. Who needs dinner when we’ve feasted on the delicious desert dirt all afternoon?
The sky above remained ominous, with strange low hanging grey clouds. It doesn’t rain in the desert, does it?
Ten minutes later, the trail stretching out into infinity in front of them, a torrent of frigid, freezing, lashing rain, proved that she was very, very wrong.
CHAPTER 10
Brock
This is just great.
Brock’s hand tightened on the reins as he steered the horse through the terrible weather. His jeans quickly became soaked, from the rain and from the wet soaking into the animal below him. The girls up ahead whimpered and complained about their freezing hands, their sopping clothes, and their soaking hair.
One glance behind him told him that though June was silent and uncomplaining, she was hating on him just as fiercely. She had her head down and water streamed off her long hair. She looked as miserable as he felt.
I tried to plan something nice and then… this.
The poor staff made apologies for the rest of the ride. Sally doubled back as the staff members spurred forward, increasing the pace.
Finally, finally, they were back where they started. Mandy and Jaz were helped down from their horses. Brock climbed down on wooden legs, stiff with the cold. He nearly fell over, he was so numb from sitting in the unnatural position for so long.
He strode right to June. She was still on her horse since she’d rolled in last. He reached up and she actually didn’t hesitate to let him help her down. She slid easily off the horse, into his arms. He swept her around and when she realized that he had no intention of putting her down, she protested loudly. She thumped a fist against his chest and cursed him just soft enough for his ears only.
He kept his hand cradled under her knees. Sally grabbed the two girls by their arms and ran for the shelter of the massive red building in the distance. Though it was designed to look like a barn, he knew it was probably where the guests were fed, since all the riding packages included either breakfast, lunch, or dinner, depending on the time of the ride.
Sally smiled up at him apologetically as he entered the building. It was nice inside. Rustic, but that was obviously the point. There was a big open area designed to be the restaurant. Surprisingly, the far wall had a fireplace with a roaring fire lit. Go figure. A fireplace in Vegas. Beyond the main room was a sign for the restrooms. The other half was closed off, probably the kitchen area.
“I’m sorry about the weather,” Sally drawled in an authentic southern accent. “I haven’t seen it rain here like this in a very long time. And freezing rain yet!” She glanced at Jaz and Mandy, who were shifting from foot to foot in front of the fireplace, hands outstretched, seeking the warmth. “There are showers in the back of the building. I can see if I can find you some clothes to borrow. Our staff stays on site and I have a house in back myself. I’ll get everyone something dry and some towels. We can wash and dry your clothes while you have dinner. I’ll have Charlie make some hot chocolate for you all while you wait.”
“Thanks.” He still didn’t move to set June down. She felt nice in his arms, soaking wet and everything. She was shaking, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t just with anger. She was chilled right through. Hell, even he was cold, and he never got cold.
Having her there warmed him up just fine. No dry clothes or hot chocolate needed. He felt like someone had built a fireplace right there in the pit of his stomach and they’d just thrown on a few extra logs. His internal temperature spiked right around the same time his pulse started racing. His heart flip-flopped inside his chest.
There was no way he should feel like that about a woman he’d just met. He shouldn’t want to march her some place dry, strip off those wet clothes and warm her with his tongue and hands and well… everything else he had. His cock rose against his wet denim. Obviously, it liked that idea as much as the rest of him did.
“Set me down,” June hissed in his ear. “I’m not some helpless child. And you’re soaking wet too. You holding me isn’t helping me warm up.”
He did as she asked. The second her feet hit the floor, June tried to rush away. He wasn’t having any of that. He had a disastrous, frigid, painful ride to make up for. It was supposed to be fun. All of this. It was like a trip to hell instead.
He had to do something to salvage it.
So, instead of letting June go, he gripped her shoulders. Even through layers of clothing, she was so slight, so small, so fragile and womanly. She didn’t pull away. It was like she was too cold to fight back. He stripped her sodden jacket off and followed up with her zip-up sweater. He tossed them aside onto a wooden chair. He let the girls have the fireplace to warm up. They too were stripping out of their wet things.
He chaffed his hands over the cold flesh of June’s arms. Her skin was a mass of goosebumps and she was shivering so hard, her teeth knocked together in a deafening clash. She had on a black tank top and it was plastered against her skin, soaked as well. He couldn’t strip her out of it in public, unfortunately, so he settled for her arms.
When he’d rubbed them a few times to try and bring the warmth back into them, which created a firestorm in his own gut, he momentarily stopped for a minute to strip off his leather jacket. His t-shirt was fairly dry underneath, so he gripped June’s shoulders and pressed her up against him. He wrapped her long, blonde hair up in his fist and piled it above her head where it wouldn’t drip down her back any longer.
He brought his hands back to her petite shoulders and began to massage them in an effort to bring some warmth back to her skin. She shivered as his hand brushed the nape of her neck. Her skin was ice, but there was a fire burning just below. He wanted to spin her around to see if that fire reached her eyes, but he settled instead for the way she leaned into his touch as he worked the knots out of her muscles. She was practically purring when Sally and two of her staff members swept back into the room carrying piles of clothing. The young women working with her ushered Jaz and Mandy back to the showers.
“We only have two staff showers in this building. You’re welcome to use my personal bathroom if you like.” Her eyes swept over them, the way he kept a hand protectively on June’s shoulder and the way she leaned into him, searching for warmth.
“Okay,” June agreed readily. Far too readily. She must really be cold. She turned slowly, and Brock was surprised and dismayed, to see that her lips had a blue outline. He grasped her hand and nearly cursed at how cold her fingers were. Her nails were purple.
&nb
sp; Brock curled his hands over hers and she didn’t pull away. Sally nodded and led the way through the barn, out the back door, back into the rain, which was tapering off, to a large house. It wasn’t fancy. It was a ranch style house with a porch on the front. All very western looking, lined in greyed cedar boards with a red metal roof.
The inside décor matched the exterior. Barbed wire stars, western paintings, colorful blankets, and rustic plank flooring gave it an authentic western feel.
Sally led them to a large bathroom on the main floor. She flipped on the light, revealing a huge clawfoot bathtub and an even larger shower. The floor was done in stone and the showerhead stood out from the wall. The drain was in the middle of the floor.
“I’ll bring you fresh clothes and set them outside the door.” She indicated the towels on the rack. “Feel free to use those.”
“Thanks,” June said woodenly. She shivered violently and looked longingly at the shower.
Before she could come to her senses, Brock shut the door. The click of the lock sliding in place brought June’s head around. Her eyes widened, as though she’d just realized where she actually was.
“What are you- what- what are you doing? I’m having a shower. I’m freezing. You need to wait outside.”
“Oh really? Who says you get to go first?”
Her brow quirked up, challenging him. Her shoulders moved back in what he realized was a stubborn, defiant position. He nearly grinned as life flooded back into her. It was good to know the rain hadn’t quite washed away her spirits.
“No! You do not get to go first. The second you planned this whole torturous trip, you gave up the right to be first in there. You’re going to wait outside like the gentleman you certainly aren’t, given that you thought you could just walk in here with me and I wouldn’t protest. I’m going to take so long in here, all the hot water will be long, long used up by the time I’m-”
That was as far as she got before Brock gripped her shoulders and slammed her up against the hard wall of his chest. She ripped her head up, anger blazing in her eyes. Her lips parted, ready to hurl harsh words his way, no doubt. He took the opportunity to crush his mouth to hers.
He just intended on kissing her, on riling her up, on stirring the pot.
One taste of her and he realized he wasn’t letting her go. Not then. Not ever.
Things might not have gone according to plan, but he wasn’t going to let the rain spoil it. There was no way he was losing that bet.
CHAPTER 11
June
He was kissing her.
And not just kissing her.
Really kissing her.
Kissing her like there wasn’t going to be a tomorrow. Kissing her like his next breath depended on it. Kissing her like she’d never, ever, been kissed before. Because she hadn’t. Not like that. None of the guys she’d been with before held a candle to Brock and his sinfully talented, sensuous mouth.
It was his fault. Everything. He probably knew it was going to rain. He probably planned it. He’d worn those jeans for a reason. Because he knew they were skin tight and sexy as sin on him and that was before the rain. Soaking wet, they outlined the delicious curve of an ass that had no right to look so… mouth-wateringly tempting.
He was made of granite. That ass was carved out of stone. Hell, those jeans even outlined the crack. June had no idea that a male wedgie could actually be sexy.
It was. Oh god, it was, and now here she was, Brock’s amazing tongue halfway down her throat, his lips doing things to her that made her frozen legs want to turn into a puddle of goo. Her outside was frozen from the rain, but her insides were a different story. She was combusting inside. Spontaneous human combustion. She remembered when she was a kid, how that used to be a thing. People trying to prove it was real.
Oh, it was real alright. She was burning up from the inside out.
She knew it.
Brock knew it too.
She managed to tear her mouth away from the sensual onslaught. Her eyes flew open and she reached up with trembling fingers and ran them over her lips. Were they as swollen and red as Brock’s? Lust tightened his features and caveman desire burned in his midnight obsidian eyes. His pupils dilated, and his shoulders heaved with the hard spurts of his breath like he’d just run a long, long way to lock her in that bathroom with him.
She knew she had to stay calm as his eyes focused in on her. On her throat, as they dropped lower, to the swell of her breasts, lower, down past her waist, where she wanted him most. She swallowed past the tightening of her throat and narrowed her eyes to show him she meant business. She balled her hands into fists at her sides, but it was impossible to pretend that she wasn’t aroused.
“I- I’ve wanted to do that all morning,” Brock confessed. “Since I woke up and found you in bed with me.” He swallowed audibly, and it was amazing that a guy who looked like he did, could be affected by her. Her, June. The woman that all three of her previous boyfriends had cheated on. The woman who got left by her latest love interest for a fucking dude.
She froze in place even though she wanted to rip away when he caressed her bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. How could he be so warm when he was soaking wet?
“I have this need to see you,” he said huskily, in a voice that was smoke and danger and promised the best, mind-blowing sex of her life. “Completely and utterly naked. Nothing between us.” He swallowed loudly again. “I woke up with the taste of you on my lips. I want that again. I want to be the one who warms you up. I want to lick that shower right off your skin. Off your nipples. Off your-”
“Holy shit!” June backed up, tearing away. She gave her head a shake. What the hell? She needed that foot of distance between them so her brain would actually start functioning. If she was a guy, she’d definitely accuse herself of thinking with her dick.
“What? Should I not want you? You’re a beautiful woman and I have eyes. You were naked in bed with me. I’ve been rock hard all day thinking about you. In my bed. In my shower. Stealing my toothbrush and my t-shirt.”
Her entire body clenched painfully. Her ovaries were currently doing a dance of joy. It was like that rain had done something to her, transported her to another world where a man like Brock, who was pure, walking sex, found her beautiful.
He was locked in a bathroom with her. Proposing that they get naked in the shower. A man like him. How the hell could she have a problem with that? Was it slutty to strip and let him do all those things he’d said to her? Her body said hell no, it wasn’t slutty at all. Her mind protested, but it was a losing battle.
Besides, he was her husband.
They were married.
“You said this morning that we have nothing in common. I want to show you that we do. We have lots in common.”
“Like- like what?” I should be telling him to get the hell out. We’re taking too long. Everyone will wonder what the hell we’re doing.
“Like, I think, we both like pleasure. We both like each other’s bodies. We both like what it would feel like for you to come on my tongue.”
“Oh my god.” June stepped closer. She planted her hands on the barbarian’s chest and meant to shove him out of the bathroom. She really, really did.
Except that his eyes were dark and smoky and shadowed with promise.
Except that he smiled deviously and swept his tongue over his bottom lip like he could taste her already.
Except that he let out a sigh of absolute hedonistic pleasure that made her icy knees want to collapse altogether.
Except that his mouth, his irresistible, sinful, trickster mouth crashed down on hers again.
And then her numb fingers were on the button of his jeans. She worked them off in record time, lack of feeling and all. She was kissing him, plundering his mouth as his tongue warred with hers, stroking and caressing so hotly she saw stars, sucking at his lips, nipping him as he nipped her.
His hands were on her jeans and he was far more effective. He shoved them down her l
egs and she stepped from them, eager to be rid of the clinging, freezing fabric. Her skin prickled with awareness. The hairs on the backs of her arms stood on end. He broke the kiss to rip her tank top from her. He didn’t stop there. Her bra was savagely discarded onto the floor. It probably wasn’t good for anything and she was reminded of the remnants of her dress.
Brock let out a growl and tore her panties right in half. Her head spun, sure she’d been transported to some parallel universe. She blinked, and Brock’s jeans were gone. Right along with his boxers and his t-shirt. He attacked his clothes the way he did hers. He showed them no mercy.
She was backed roughly into the shower, her back thrust against the cold, hard stone. He wrapped one hand around her back while he reached for the tap with the other. The hot spray poured over them both. It was so hot that it hurt, and she yelped, but after a few seconds, her numb skin grew accustomed to the temperature and she discovered it really wasn’t hot at all.
What was hot was Brock’s mouth. It crashed over hers again, claiming her, devouring her. What was hot were his hands, which traveled the length of her body before one settled on her breast. He palmed the globe roughly and she whimpered into his mouth, half shocked, half… god, half something she couldn’t even name.
“I saw you looking at my ass,” he panted as he ripped away. He flicked his thumb over her already straining nipple and she bucked into him helplessly.
“You’re full of yourself,” she hissed.
“Not as full of me as I wish you were at the moment,” he responded ruefully. He nipped her on the neck and flicked her nipple again. His breath was deliciously warm against her skin. “You can look all you want. My ass is yours. All of me is yours now.”
“What if I don’t want it?” she panted. “What if I don’t want you in this shower right now? What if you’re just imagining things in your head?”
His hand left her breast and skimmed over her waist. It dipped lower, grazing parts of her that came painfully alive in ways she didn’t know they could. She moaned and arched into his touch as his fingers dipped lower. His index finger glanced over her clit and a jolt of wicked heat shot through her. He dipped his hand lower, sinking it into her already soaking wet folds. And god, they weren’t wet from the rain or the shower.
