Wallflowers: Double Trouble

by CP Smith

  He didn’t move back an inch. Instead, he moved in closer.

  “You’re a quitter if you walk away from me over a stupid fight.”

  “Stop callin’ me a quitter!” I shouted louder.

  “Then stop actin’ like one and fight for us instead of throwin’ in the towel the minute I lose my temper.”

  “You lost your temper because I remind you of your mother, and you don’t like the comparison.”

  On a “Jesus, Christ” Bo grabbed my arm and began pulling me out of the barn. I stumbled over my feet as I tried to tug my arm away, grousing, “Let me go,” as we went, but I stopped struggling when I saw we had an audience. Natasha, Eunice, Poppy, and Bernice were watching us from the courtyard with varying degrees of hilarity written across their faces.

  Bo didn’t say a word until he’d opened the door to the first cabin, then locked it behind us, pressing me into the door with his body to keep me in place.

  I turned my head so I wouldn’t have to look into his piercing gray eyes. That didn’t stop Bo from getting his point across, though. He ran his fingers into my hair and tugged gently until my neck was open to him. He laid soft kisses up my neck until he reached my ear, then nipped my lobe, causing my body to shudder in reaction.

  “I don’t give a fuck who you act like. I was pissed because the thought of you being injured brings out the worst in me. When I saw you on the ATV and realized you’d moved the cattle, I became irrational with what could have happened.”

  “You don’t shout at someone you’re worried about. You don’t point out their flaws if you don’t want them to change.”

  Bo pulled back and met my eyes. He looked confused. “You don’t shout at . . . Baby, didn’t your parents shout at you when you put yourself in harm’s way?”

  “My parents didn’t talk to me unless they had to. And most of the time it was to tell me everything I was doin’ was wrong or that I needed to change.”

  “Jesus, that explains a lot.”

  “Good. I’m glad one of us understands them. As for us, I still don’t think—”

  “Then think again,” he growled. “You’re not walkin’ out of my life because you haven’t got a clue what it feels like to be loved.”

  I blinked, then whispered, “What did you say?” on a whoosh of air.

  “You heard me. My mother may have left me behind ‘cause she was selfish, but in the short time I had her in my life, I knew she loved me. Knew what it felt like to be loved. It’s clear you don’t.”

  I swallowed. He was right. I didn’t. “What does it feel like to love someone?”

  “It feels like warmth, anger, passion, and an uncontrollable need to protect. You feel scared at the thought the other might get hurt. It makes you argue over stupid shit and laugh at the ridiculous. Keeps you from quittin’ or lettin’ the person you care about quit in the heat of the moment. You fight to keep it, ‘cause you have no choice.” He raised my hand and put it to his chest. I could feel his heart beating out a rapid beat. “I don’t want to change a single thing about you, baby,” he said gently, then brushed a kiss across my mouth. “‘Cause in my eyes, you’re perfect just the way you are, flaws and all.”

  My bottom lip began to tremble. I was in so deep with this man.

  “Wallflowers don’t have flaws,” I choked out. “We just see the world differently. And because of that, we need a certain type of man.”

  Bo brushed a tear from my cheek, then leaned his forehead against mine. “And what kind of man is that?” he asked softly.

  “Only the best kind of man. A hero,” I whispered. “One who can save us from our pasts.”

  Both of his hands came up and cupped my face, and he closed his eyes, breathing out, “Christ, you’re killin’ me.”

  “You asked me once if I was a dream,” I continued. “Well, you are to me. A dream I’ve had since I was a little girl. The man who would slay my dragons.”

  Bo sucked in a breath. “My childhood dreams were nothin’ like you,” he whispered. “They were never this beautiful.”

  “Bo, you have to know I’ll probably screw up—”

  “I don’t care. Screw up all you want, I can take it. But right now, no more talkin’. I need to be inside you,” he rumbled low, hot and angry, cutting me off. “If you’re too sore from last night, you need to tell me now, because once I start, I won’t be able to stop.”

  My heart began to pound in my chest. Soreness be damned. I wanted Bo inside me more than I wanted the air I breathed, so I grabbed the hem of my shirt and pulled it from my body.

  Bo let his eyes drop to my chest, then they came back to my face.

  “Take the rest off and lie on the couch,” he ordered then grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled it over his head.

  With shaking hands, I unbuttoned my jeans and began to kick off my boots. Bo wasn’t touching me, and it left me feeling empty. I needed the connection to his skin, so I leaned in and brushed a kiss across his chest. In a flash, I found myself pinned against the door, with my hands held above my head.

  “If you do that again, you’ll find yourself bent over the back of the couch with your ass in the air. I’m wound too tight right now for games.”

  I’d like to say I listened, but my body reacted to the threat, and I rubbed my breasts against his chest, reveling in the feel of his hard lines against my softer curves. His reaction was instantaneous. One moment I was pinned to the door, the next I was backed into the couch and Bo was kissing me wet, deep, and thoroughly intoxicating.

  When he broke from the kiss, my head was spinning and unable to process the speed at which he was moving. My jeans were gone before I knew he had his hands on them, then I was bent over the couch, grabbing hold of the edge for balance. I expected Bo to strip out of his jeans and enter me, but he spread my legs wider and then kneeled to the ground instead, putting his mouth on me. I jerked at the contact, still adjusting to having a man touch me so intimately, only to gasp when a firm hand landed on my ass, squeezing the muscle to the point of pain as I moaned at the sensations flooding my system.

  “Don’t move,” Bo growled, then began working my clit with his tongue.

  I moved against his mouth instinctively, clawing the couch with my nails when another sound slap landed on my backside.

  “You like being disciplined?” Bo husked out, nipping at the inside of my leg.

  I guess I did, because I wiggled my ass in answer.

  A low chuckle sounded through the room before he stood between my legs and pulled my head back.

  I looked back at him with hooded eyes, then reached for his neck and pulled his mouth to mine. I could taste myself on his lips, and I moaned as he worked his jeans off, then I let go and grabbed the edge of the couch, lifting my ass in anticipation. I needed him inside me as soon as possible, so he could quench the desire ravaging my system. Seconds later, the tip of his cock brushed against my opening, only to disappear. I turned and looked back at Bo, ready to protest. He was staring between my legs, his hand wrapped around his cock, gently running up and down the shaft.

  “Bo, please,” I begged.

  His eyes rose to mine. “You’re fuckin’ beautiful,” he growled, then leaned down and took my mouth again as he positioned himself and then entered me slowly.

  I whimpered as he filled me, sore from the night before, but I pushed through it and relaxed into his rhythm, pushing back until he was fully seated deep within my walls.

  His pace increased as I lost all control, ramming down hard on his upward thrust, looking for that place where time stood still for a brief, beautiful moment.

  I was reaching for the precipice, concentrating only on the feel of Bo’s hands on my breasts, when he let go and found my clit, rolling it while a finger entered my backside. I ignited from the pressure and called out in a raspy voice as I hurtled over the edge. Bo kept at me, rebuilding a spark into a flame until I was ready to explode again, but he stopped suddenly and pulled out. I looked back at him, hungry for him
to finish what he’d built, and my breath stole from my body. Bo was looking at me with such want that a knot caught in my throat.

  “I want your ass,” he growled. “I want to claim every inch of your body.”

  I swallowed hard at the thought, then nodded, excited and scared of the unknown.

  Moving back between my legs, Bo lifted my ass higher, then leaned down and nipped it, running his hand over the muscle. His hand disappeared between my legs, and then fingers entered my core, pumping twice before flicking my clit and retreating. I took a deep breath to relax, but tensed when he ran the wet digits around my back entrance.

  “We need to work up to my cock. I’ll hurt you if we don’t, so I won’t take you there today.”

  On a shaking breath, I asked, “How do we work up to that?”

  He circled my entrance again and then pushed in slowly. It felt fuller than before and my breath caught at the heightened sensation. So I pushed back against the intrusion and swiveled my hips.

  “You like that?” Bo asked huskily, and I nodded.

  He pulled back, then slowly entered me again, and I whimpered. The fullness had doubled, and I began to shake with need. Instead of hurting like I thought it would, the pain amplified my arousal, causing my clit to pound.

  “Bo!” I moaned low.

  “I could come just watchin’ you writhe on my hand,” he hissed, then pulled out and pushed back in.

  “I need you,” I cried out.

  “I’m right here,” he answered, then slid his cock back inside me and swiveled his hips. I erupted again instantly, my atoms splitting in an orgasm so powerful that I forgot to take a breath. I slumped forward like a noodle once my release was spent and Bo’s hand left my backside. Moments later, he pulled my limp body from the couch and picked me up. I slumped against him as he headed for a bedroom and lay me down on cool, crisp sheets.

  I opened my arms and legs immediately, and he settled between them, sliding back inside me as he claimed my mouth.

  He moved slowly this time, touching every nerve as he glided between my walls, building yet another orgasm. I held on tight, my nails biting into the skin on his back as his pace increased.

  I tensed as my third orgasm hit me, throwing my head back in sweet surrender, and Bo followed on a deep thrust, burying his face in my neck, groaning low with his release.

  Sanity hit me within minutes, and I turned my head to hide the blush creeping up my face. I was addicted to Bo. Addicted to what he could do to my body. I was a wanton woman, as Cali had said, but a dirty one at that. I’d heard stories from other women about how much anal sex hurt. That no woman could possibly love it. But all I could think about at that moment was how long it would take to train my body to accept him, and how soon we could try again.

  Poppy and Cali would kick me out of the club if they knew how kinky I really was.

  “You okay?” Bo mumbled in my neck, tasting the skin before trailing a line with his tongue up to my ear.

  I nodded, then wrapped him tighter in my embrace. He was still inside me, and I didn’t want to lose the connection.

  “Are you just sayin’ that or are you really okay? Don’t keep shit from me, babe. I need to know if I’m hurtin’ you in any way.”

  I nodded again, so he pulled back and looked at me.

  A slow grin pulled across his mouth. “She’s okay,” he chuckled, then kissed me slowly and thoroughly. My body responded instantly to his mouth, and my hands began to wander. But they stopped when Bo began to shake with laughter.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I’ve created a monster,” Bo replied, rolling to his side.

  I turned and rested my cheek on his chest.

  “Are you complaining that you turn me on?”

  Bo closed his eyes with a smile. “Not hardly.”

  “Did you not enjoy yourself?” I asked, poking his chest.

  One eye opened, and it looked insulted, then he pulled me up his chest and kissed me soundly. “What do you think?” he whispered against my lips.

  I wiggled my brows, then pushed up from his chest on a giggle, announcing, “Then you’ll love this,” as I rolled and dashed from the room, heading for the bathroom.

  I heard Bo groan, “She’ll kill me within a year,” as he exited the bed. Grinning, I turned the knob to the bathroom door and pushed it open, stepping inside.

  Then I let out a bloodcurdling scream as the room began to spin.

  Ten

  CLINT BLACK

  FROZEN IN PLACE, I MOVED when I heard Bo shout my name and fled the bathroom right into a solid wall of muscle. Strong arms wrapped around me, followed by Bo’s whispered, “I’ve got you.”

  “Clint,” I gasped out, “in there”—I pointed toward the bathroom—“he’s dead.”

  Bo didn’t register surprise at my outburst; he just tried to push me behind him and growled, “Go back to the bedroom and wait for me.”

  I shook my head. I wasn’t going anywhere without him.

  “Baby, I need to take a look at the body, and you need to get dressed.”

  He had a point. The police would be called, and naked Sienna wasn’t a good look. “Come with me to get our clothes, and then you can lock me in the bedroom,” I begged.

  Nodding, Bo wrapped his arm around my shoulders and led me back into the living room, where he pulled on his jeans. I quickly threw his shirt on to cover my nakedness, then grabbed my clothes from the floor and pulled him back to the bedroom. “I’ll give you your shirt back in a minute,” I said as he started to shut the door. He scanned my body, mumbled, “Keep it. I like it on you,” then shut the door. I locked it behind him and rushed to get dressed. Then I remembered I had my phone in my back pocket and called Devin.

  “Yeah?”

  “Clint Black is dead. He’s in the bathroom in the large cabin,” I blurted out. “Bo needs you.”

  “Jesus Christ,” was his response, then, “on my way,” before he hung up.

  When I heard raised voices heading toward the cabin, I unlocked the bedroom door and shouted, “Devin’s here,” as I ran to unlock the main cabin door.

  Devin came rushing in, dragging Cali behind him, with Poppy and Nate right on his heels. The cabin exploded in a frenzy of questions, and Bo exited the bathroom looking grim. I tossed him his shirt and he pulled it back on, then got right to the point. “Black’s dead,” Bo bit out.

  “This situation keeps escalatin’,” Devin growled.

  Bo reached for my hand, turning me toward him. “I don’t want you out of my sight, but I need to check the scene thoroughly with Devin and Nate. Can you ladies stay right here and not touch anything?” I nodded, and he squeezed my hand once before letting me go.

  Moving to Cali and Poppy, I huddled with them, watching all three men as they disappeared into the bathroom, trying to keep from freaking out.

  “I can’t believe Clint’s dead,” Poppy whispered. I turned to her and nodded, then closed my eyes, trying not to picture him as he lay on the floor. It was no use. He’d died with his eyes open, a shocked look still present on his face, as if his attacker had snuck up on him or someone he trusted had surprised him.

  “Was there blood?” Cali asked nervously. “I don’t think I can handle another bloody body this week.”

  I shook my head rapidly, trying to push down the panic I felt. “He had a bruise around his neck. Like someone strangled him,” I answered.

  Minutes later, Bo exited the bathroom with a furious look on his face. “Window was open, and there’s a dirty footprint on the toilet. Whoever killed him was probably inside when you came in to make sandwiches. They snuck out the window to avoid bein’ seen.”

  Cold fear trickled through my veins. “How do you know he was in here when we came in?”

  “Because Nate saw Clint when he went into the barn for a hammer. He said it was five minutes tops before you headed here, and he hasn’t seen him since.”

  “Then we walked in right after he, he . . .”—I swallowed t
o keep from crying—“died.”

  Bo nodded. “He probably heard you comin’ and dragged Black into the bathroom to hide the body, then crawled out the window to escape.”

  “That’s why the chair was tipped over,” I gasped. “Oh, God. He was in here when we made the sandwiches.”

  “First the fire, and now Clint?” Poppy gasped. “How do we end up in these situations?”

  “And the cattle,” Devin added.

  “The cattle? What happened to the cattle?” Cali asked.

  “Someone pulled down the fence. That’s how they got out. We assumed it was the old man who lives next door, but considerin’ Black is dead, I don’t believe it now.”

  “This is crazy. It’s nuts,” I blurted out. “Who’d want to hurt Boris and Natasha like this?”

  Bo’s eyes shot to mine. “What did you say?”

  “I said, who would want to hurt Boris and Natasha. You can’t tell me all these things aren’t related. It’s too much. It’s frankly unbelievable at this point. The fire. The cattle. Now Clint . . . NUTS!”

  He swung around and looked at Devin. “She’s right. We’ve been lookin’ at this all wrong. This doesn’t have anything to do with Daniels or the Wallflowers, and I’d bet my paycheck that the fire wasn’t Calla’s fault either.”

  “You’re sayin’ someone is tryin’ to ruin Boris and Natasha, and what? Black stumbled across them or was involved, and it got him killed?” Devin asked, incredulous.

  “That’s exactly what I’m sayin’,” Bo answered and then waited for Devin to come to the same conclusion.

  Devin mulled it over for a moment and then nodded. “Would make more sense than some punk biker followin’ the girls up here. That never fit.”

  “Wait, then I didn’t burn down their house?” Cali asked, looking hopeful.

  Devin shook his head. “Someone’s watchin’ us closely. They used the fact we grilled last night to cover their tracks.”

  “But who?” I asked. “Who would want Boris and Natasha ruined enough to commit murder?”

  We all looked toward the bathroom, where poor Clint Black was lying on the cold tile floor.

  “That,” Bo growled as he grabbed my hand and started leading me out of the cabin, “is what I’m gonna find out. But first, we need to make sure you ladies are safe.”