Her Pleasure Warrior_A Military Romance

by Katerina Cole

  “What I see here at the Peppertree is not a failure of determination or a lack of good taste,” he went on. “It’s a lack of funds. I fully believe that you would never have allowed your father’s dream to slip so far if you’d had any control over it. I know that. Because I know you. And Haley Simmons does not give up easily.”

  I could feel tears stinging in my eyes. He was right. I knew he was. But after years of being blamed and vilified as though I was the sole cause of the Peppertree’s fall from grace, it was a massive relief to hear that at least one person understood the truth about what happened here. Maybe I could have scrambled more money together to fix the problems as they arose, but the truth was, I wasn’t used to pinching pennies. I mean, it wasn’t like I had grown up spoiled and pampered-- my father was adamant about teaching me the value of a dollar in my personal spending habits. But in regard to the resort, Dad spared no expense. We had the best of everything, because the resort was so wildly successful that every expense paid for itself and then some. It was an upward cycle, in which every penny we spent came back to us tenfold. But after Dad passed, it was different. The Peppertree had all the same expenses and more, without the revenue to sustain them. It was a money problem, and a public image problem, but without the funds needed to fix them, the problems snowballed.

  “Thank you for understanding how the Peppertree got to this place,” I murmured. I reached up and took his hand. He gave it a reassuring squeeze. “It’s so nice to know there is someone out here in the world who knows how hard I tried. Because I really, really tried, Chase. This place is my heart. It’s the only home I’ve ever known. I would do anything to bring it back to life again.”

  “I know you would,” he told me. He knelt down by the bed and kissed my hand. “And between your vision and determination and my funding, we will make this place as amazing as it used to be. Hell, we’ll make it better than it used to be.”

  This time I was so grateful and overwhelmed with emotion that I could not have stemmed the flow of tears if I’d wanted to. Hot streaks rolled down my cheeks. Chase got up and cupped my face in his hands, kissing away the tears gently. “Look, I’m staying the weekend,” he said softly, “How about you show me around the property? We can talk about all the things you want to change and I can make some suggestions, too, if that would help.”

  I smiled and nodded happily, wiping at my eyes. “Yes. That would be amazing.”

  “Come on,” he beckoned, standing up. “Let’s get dressed. As much as I would love to stay here in the bedroom with you, there will be plenty of time for that later.”

  He gave me his hand and helped me out of bed. We showered off together, as was quickly becoming our tradition, and then got dressed in warm, comfortable clothes. I had to keep glancing over at what Chase was wearing to better gauge how stylish I needed to be. He was always so put-together. It was effortless for him, having grown up in a world of designer clothing. I had no doubt that he had been wearing Versace and Armani since childhood, so it was all natural to him.

  Today, Chase looked handsome as hell in his charcoal-colored cashmere sweater, black Burberry trench coat, gray scarf, and fitted dark jeans with black boots. I knew without asking that every item of his outfit probably cost more than a night at the Peppertree in the finest suite we had to offer. In my rather sad attempt to match his style, I put on a calf-length, gray, cable-knit sweater dress, black tights, black booties, and my favorite black pea coat. None of these items were designer, but rather what I might sheepishly call designer-adjacent. But when I put on a dash of garnet-red lipstick and some mascara, I thought it all looked pretty good. I came out of the bathroom in my outfit and Chase let out a low whistle.

  “Damn,” he swore, shaking his head. “You look fantastic.”

  “You think so?” I asked. I bit my lip, looking down at my ensemble. Chase sauntered over to me and pulled me into his arms.

  “Yes. Absolutely. And if you hadn’t just put on that lipstick, I’d kiss you,” he murmured.

  “Stupid lipstick,” I giggled. “I’ll toss it in the trash if it means you’ll kiss me more.”

  “Oh, don’t toss it. I’m a gentleman. I can wait,” he promised. He gave me a wink and took my hand. “Let’s go. I’m ready to hear all about your plans.”

  I led him downstairs to the restaurant first, where we got a cup of coffee and sat down by the massive window. “So, first of all, this restaurant needs some help,” I told him quietly. The last thing I wanted was to upset my current kitchen staff by announcing to the world how terrible they were. After all, it wasn’t really their fault. They weren’t awful by most standards, but they couldn’t stand up to the quality of Chef Louis.

  “I agree,” Chase noted. “What do you think would help? Hiring new staff?”

  I glanced around nervously, hoping no one heard him. “No, no. I can’t do that to them. My kitchen staff are all such wonderful people,” I told him fervently. “It’s not their fault they don’t meet the standard. None of them have much gourmet training. Even the head chef is a culinary school drop-out.”

  “That does not bode well. Are you sure you want to keep them?” Chase prodded. I could tell what his suggestion was. Fire them all and start over. But I just couldn’t do that. Maybe I was too soft, but I prided myself on being a compassionate boss.

  “Yes. But my plan is to bring in a training chef. A good one. Who will teach them all how to do better. It’s not that they aren’t all very hard workers. They do their best. They take pride in their work, really. They just need someone with more experience to guide them,” I explained.

  Chase smiled. “You would do that for them? Take the hard way and build them up rather than just cutting your losses and hiring five-star chefs?”

  I nodded. “Yes. It’s how I do business. My father would’ve wanted it that way. He always told me that guests are friends, but staff is family. We take care of each other here, with or without the money.”

  “You are truly the most fascinating business woman I’ve ever met,” he commented.

  “Is that a compliment or an insult?” I asked. I raised an eyebrow.

  Chase chuckled. “Definitely a compliment. I think I could learn a thing or two from you. All of my hotels are strictly business-only. I take a hands-off, detached approach. When you own so many properties, it’s difficult to really get to know your people. But you… I see the way your employees look at you. Look to you. Like you’re their friend or their mother or something.”

  I shrugged. “Well, this place is my home. My life. The people who work here are basically family at this point. For the Peppertree to succeed, I want everyone to succeed. Not just me. You know?”

  “I do now,” he replied fondly. “So, what’s next?”

  We headed out of the building and down to the defunct ski lift. Chase almost visibly winced at the broken-down machinery. “Yeah. I know,” I sighed. “It’s bad. These things cost a lot of money to operate.”

  “Yes, they do,” he agreed. “But let me take care of that.”

  “Really?” I asked, incredulous. Chase laughed.

  “Of course. Isn’t that why I’m here? You know the Peppertree better than anyone. If you want something fixed, I will get it fixed. Besides, this location is perfect for skiing. Without a functional lift, you won’t be taking advantage of the property’s value,” he reasoned. “In fact, I would make this the first priority. Then the restaurant.”

  “Then redesigning the suites,” I added, hoping that wasn’t too much to ask.

  “Definitely,” he said, a little too quickly.

  “Oh. They’re that bad, huh?”

  Chase hugged me. “They’re not terrible. But I can tell they have not been updated since the late nineties. That’s not great. A beautiful location like this needs an update. The property has so much potential to be a truly desirable destination. Just look at this view.”

  He gestured broadly in front of us. I smiled into the cold wind as I looked out over the snowy mo
untains and the valley below, tick with fir trees.

  “I have this image in my head of the Peppertree as a boutique resort,” I confessed suddenly. “I’ve never told anyone about this, but I always thought my father’s style was a little too old-fashioned.”

  “Oh, really? You want to question the taste of the formidable Geoffrey Simmons?” Chase teased me. I blushed.

  “I know, I know. But I just always pictured this place with a different look. Cleaner. Smoother. With a punch of color. Maybe some light feminine touches here and there,” I described, the picture in my head totally vivid, at least to me.

  “You know, I actually agree. I think this could be revamped as a celebrity hangout,” he mused. “My brother knows all kinds of big names. I could always give him a call and have him tell his friends to come stay here. Free publicity.”

  “Really? You would do that? Do you think he would do that?” I inquired breathlessly.

  “Of course,” Chase answered. “He’s my brother. Your brother-in-law. Besides, I’ve rescued that guy from so many hairy situations, he owes me. Once all the renovations are complete, he can send over his celebrity buddies to stay. That would really help reverse some of the negative publicity this place has garnered since your father’s passing.”

  “That would be amazing,” I whispered. My head was full of images-- celebrities pulling up to the resort in their stretch limousines. Paparazzi waiting outside the iron gates, begging for a peek of the famous guests. The papers, printing rave reviews from a star-studded guest list. The bedraggled travelers and witless ghost hunters would be replaced by a five-star clientele bound to catapult the success of the Peppertree into the stratosphere.

  “But let’s not get too ahead of ourselves. Right now, there’s work to be done,” Chase reminded me. I laughed.

  “Yes. Of course. You’re right. Plenty of time for obsessive daydreaming later,” I agreed.

  We continued to tour around the property for the majority of the day and then the next day, as well. We joked with each other when appropriate, and jumped right back into business mode when it was necessary. We bounced ideas off of one another and brainstormed more ways to spruce up the resort and bring way above the industry standard. It was glaringly obvious that Chase knew more about the ins and outs of the business of running a resort. With the lifetime of training and practice he had, and the vast number of properties under his name and management, it made perfect sense that he would have such a firm grasp on how to make it all run smoothly. I, on the other hand, lacked some of his sharp business acumen, but what I did have was an obsession for detail. And on top of that, I had a pure love for the Peppertree and its staff, all its quirks and features, that made me the perfect person to reimagine it. I knew this property like the back of my hand, having grown up here. Maybe I didn’t have a whole portfolio of resorts under my name, but what I did have was passion and perseverance.

  By the end of Sunday, we were both exhausted and exhilarated from compiling a massive list of everything that needed to change about the Peppertree. We were tired but happy, and I was positively lit up with anticipation of the rebirth to come. The two of us were lying in bed, cuddled together while the cozy heat of the fireplace warmed us. We had just finished off a couple glasses of mulled wine, courtesy of my favorite bartender in the lodge restaurant, and we were feeling pretty content with life.

  “I still can’t believe this is all happening,” I mumbled. My head was resting on Chase’s powerful chest as he stroked my hair softly.

  “Believe it,” he told me. I could hear the smile in his voice without even looking.

  I sat up and looked at him adoringly. There was no stopping my heart from chasing after him. I knew it was stupid, and I knew I would hurt later on down the line, but for now I couldn’t stop myself from being infatuated with Chase Hawthorne. Again.

  “You know what could make this moment even better?” I began slowly.

  “What?” he prompted. I straddled him and leaned forward to kiss him.

  “If we could make a baby,” I whispered against his lips. That was all it took. Chase grabbed me and stripped off my clothes, his mouth trailing down my body as he kicked off his jeans and boxers. He stood up and pulled off his sweater, looming over me while I watched in quiet excitement. He shook his head, looking me up and down.

  “What is it?” I asked, confused.

  “It’s like you’re more beautiful every time I look at you. I don’t know how you do it,” he murmured. There was genuine awe in his voice. He leaned over me and kissed me softly, cradling me in his arms as he pushed his magnificent cock inside me. I moaned and clung to him as he began to thrust, slowly at first, like he was trying to take his time. He kissed my cheeks, my neck, my breasts, his tongue flicking over my stiffened nipples. I shuddered with pleasure as he nipped and sucked at my breasts, one of his hands sliding down to massage my clit while he fucked me. I had never felt so adored, so perfectly safe and content.

  But he was too gentle, too patient. I wanted more. I wanted him to lose control with me again, to use my body and pump me full of his sweet seed. “You don’t have to be so gentle,” I whispered in his ear. “Give me everything, Chase. I can take it.”

  He groaned, lifting me so that we were facing each other, straddling each other as he rocked his hips, fucking me faster and faster as he started to give in to the animalistic desire to make me his own, to claim my womb for his heir. I wrapped my arms around him, holding on tightly. Waves of intense, almost unbearable pleasure ripped through my body. At this angle, his pelvis brushed against my sensitive clit with every motion, and it wasn’t long before I was crying out, shivering with orgasm.

  “Oh God, it feels so good,” I sighed breathlessly. “Give it to me. Fill me up. I can’t wait to give you what you deserve. I want to give you a baby, Chase. Please.”

  My words spurred him to move faster, to fuck me harder and harder until both of us were writhing, shuddering with every overwhelming spasm of bliss. Chase kissed me, his tongue probing into my mouth as we crashed against each other again and again. There was one singular motive, one shared desire above all others: to make a child. I found myself wanting it just as badly as I knew he did, and instead of frightening me, it only made the pleasure more intense.

  A few more almost violent thrusts and Chase groaned, clutching me tightly as he released his seed deep inside my clenching pussy. We stayed that way for several minutes, wrapped in each other’s arms, breathing as one unit. I never wanted to let him go. This was the only place I ever wanted to be-- with Chase, in the rush of pleasure and emotions we had yet to name aloud.

  But the weekend was over, and in the morning, he was on a plane back to Chicago.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chase

  I made my way down the windy streets of Chicago and stepped into one of my favorite coffee shops. It was a cozy little place that had been owned by the same family for generations, and it still had the best brew on this side of town.

  There was no better cure for a chilly winter’s day away from my wife.

  “Hey hey, Mr. Hawthorne,” one of the baristas who knew me greeted me with a friendly smile. “The usual?”

  “You know it, Brian,” I replied with a curt smile.

  While I waited for my order, I peered out the glassy window. All I could think about was how much I wished I could show this place to Haley.

  I had to clear my mind of all this crap. I had barely been back in Chicago for a day on my usual business, but more and more, the time I spent away from her ate away at me. I thought about calling her to check on how things were going at the Peppertree, and between those times, I thought about bringing her up to Chicago and showing her around.

  I loved our wild, lust-crazed sex sessions, and every time I thought about that curvy body growing a bump with my child, I wanted her right then and there. But the more time she spent in my mind, the more I wanted something more with her.

  This was a fake marriage, I reminde
d myself. Those words, fake marriage, kept popping up in my head like stop signs. The more they did, the more they pissed me off.

  I got what I wanted in life, always. What I wanted was sex and an heir.

  So, why did I have to keep telling myself that was all I wanted?

  “Mr. Hawthorne?” the barista repeated, and I snapped out of my trance to turn around and face him. He was holding out my coffee with the usual gruff smile on his face.

  “Oh, right. Thanks, Brian, put it on my account.”

  “Already taken care of, sir.”

  I left a $100 in the tip jar and started to head for the exit when I felt my phone buzzing in my pocket.

  It was my mother.

  I furrowed my brow. She usually didn’t call unexpectedly, but it wasn’t too out of the ordinary. I had always been on good terms with my mom, and after Dad passed away, it only made all of us siblings closer to her.

  “Hey, Mom,” I greeted her. I took a seat at the bar by the window instead of going outside. There were enough people in the cafe to give me some white noise, and it was a little quieter than the wind and traffic outside. “What’s up?”

  “What’s up?” she snapped, and I stiffened. I knew that tone well. “I should be asking you what’s up, Chase Hawthorne!”

  I furrowed my brow. “Is...am I missing something?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m apparently missing an invitation to the wedding you just had!”

  My face went pale. How on earth did she find out about that? I clenched my jaw. She kept abreast of a lot of my business ties, so it probably got to her through the grapevine without too much trouble. I should have thought of that.