The Wild One

by Taylor, Theodora

  She shook her head, unable to speak she was so frightened.

  “Breathe,” he said. “Breathe and say to yourself, ‘that hand on my knee belongs to Andrew.’ Say it out loud.”

  It took several tries, before she finally managed to squeeze out, “That hand on my knee belongs to Andrew.” Several breaths then she tried it again. “That hand on my knee belongs to Andrew.” More breaths, and another: “That hand on my knee belongs to Andrew.”

  She felt the muscles in her body begin to untighten a little. She kept staring at the hand on her knee, and it lost the four rings the executive had worn on his hammy fingers. Eventually, it morphed back into what it really was, Andrew’s large hand with its long elegant fingers under which she could feel calluses from all the physical ranch work he insisted on doing, even though he had hired hands for that.

  Soon her breathing calmed and she relaxed. At least she did until he said, “Now tell me what happened next.”

  “Then he, um…he, umm…kissed me. Not nice but ugly, just enough to take me by surprise, so he could get me under him.”

  “Like this.” Andrew didn’t waste time. He pressed his lips against hers and had her pinned under him in what felt like zero seconds flat.

  And it took half that time for her to completely freak out.

  “No! No!” she said, flashing back against her will.

  Except this time when she tried to scratch him, he grabbed both her hands and pinned them above her head without having to be told that was what the music exec did. And this caused her to freak out even more.

  She screamed now, thrashing underneath his weight, trying with all her might to get away. It felt like she’d been dropped down a black hole, like the misery of that night was closing in on her. But then she heard a voice…

  “Layla, Layla, it’s me, Andrew. I need you to come back. I need you to open your eyes and look at me now, so you can understand it’s me on top of you, not that bastard who raped you.”

  She blinked, opening her tear-filled eyes to see the blurry image of Andrew. He was pinning her down, yes, but he was looking at her with such compassion, it was impossible to super-impose the label head’s face on top of his.

  “You know who I am, and you know I won’t come inside you without an invitation,” he told her. “We’re going to just lie like this for however long you need it to be. I don’t care if it takes all night. I can wait for my invitation.”

  She didn’t believe him. Some animal part of her brain told her he’d either fuck her without permission or get sick of lying on top of her like this, and just give up on her.

  But then an hour passed and they were still laid out in the weird tableau.

  “My arms are starting to hurt,” she said.

  He brought them down, repositioning them between their bodies, so she was still pinned but no longer forced to lie with her arms above her head. If he was uncomfortable keeping her pinned but still making it so she didn’t have to support all of his weight on top of her, he didn’t say one word about it.

  And soon another hour passed.

  She was dry as a bone down there, and she was thinking it would take several more hours of silence before Andrew gave up on this venture of his, but then he said, “You know I don’t talk to anybody else in bed like I talk to you.”

  Her eyes widened with mock surprise. “You mean I’m the first girl you’ve pinned down like this?”

  “Yes, and I also mean you’re the first girl I’ve ever cursed in front of, the first girl I’ve ever dirty talked to in any way. I was raised to be a gentleman, but you’ve probably noticed I have problems being a gentleman with you.”

  Roxxy shook her head. “If we’re being honest, I had no idea you were raised to be anything close to a gentleman.”

  He gave her a wry smile. “You’re wondering why I was so cold to you those first few days after you came to the ranch.”

  “I thought you were angry with me for coming here when you had a girlfriend.”

  “No, it was because you made my dick so hard, harder than any woman ever has before, just by looking at you. I was afraid to talk to you, much less spend any kind of time with you. I didn’t think I’d be able to keep my hands off of you.”

  His eyes caressed her face. “You’ve probably been thinking all day that I’m turned off because of what some asshole did to you when you were sixteen. But I need you to understand something, sweetheart.” His gray eyes met hers. “I could never not want you. I don’t care if you used to be my brother’s wife or what happened to us in the past. I wanted you from the day you came here to find me and I’ll want you until the day I die. There is nothing that happened to you that could make me stop wanting you more than any other woman I’ve ever known or seen.”

  Tears filled her eyes again. She wished that were true. She wished she could keep him after the D.A.’s office came to get her and let him know who she really was.

  “Close your eyes, sweetheart. Trust me.”

  She closed her eyes and soon found herself the recipient of the sweetest kiss she had ever known. It made no demands, and it took it’s own languorous time, as if to say Andrew would be perfectly happy kissing her for an eternity if she never saw fit to give him an invitation in this position.

  The gentle kiss filled her heart, and wiped her mind clean of the label head. Suddenly it was just her and Andrew, kissing on a cloud of desire.

  She heard herself say, “You’re invited in. I’m giving you an invitation.”

  And then his head was between her legs. He kept her arms pinned at her sides, but his mouth prepared her for his entrance in a way that let her know she was definitely dealing with Andrew Sinclair and not some asshole who liked to rape and beat up helpless teenagers.

  Soon, she felt her eyes close again, and she became lost in the intimate kiss he was giving her private area, sucking on her clit and licking her pussy folds so hardcore, she didn’t know if the new wetness inside her belonged to him or her. Probably both.

  “Andrew, stop,” she said. “Please fuck me. You have your invitation, now get inside of me.”

  This time when he pinned her arms above her head and settled on top of her, she didn’t trigger. And when he began to move inside of her, riding her in an agreed upon rhythm with her hips, they both opened their eyes, each marveling at the beauty of the other, as he took them over the horizon into a sea of white light.

  Only when they were both coming down from the orgasm did he let her arms go. They fell like puppet strings to her side as he rolled off of her, only to pull her over and place her head on his chest a few moments later.

  “All right then,” he said. “We can stick to the non-traumatic positions all you want, sweetheart. But the next time I accidentally trigger you, that’s how we’ll handle it, okay?”

  “Okay,” she agreed, feeling warm and fuzzy and safer than she had ever believed she possibly could with a man. “Thank you,” she said, meaning it from the bottom of her heart, and more than he would ever understand.

  He kissed her on the top of her head. And her last thought before falling into contented sleep, was that Andrew must be lying, or at least exaggerating, about having never talked dirty to a woman before. He was so good at it, it didn’t seem like it could possibly be true.

  CHAPTER 18

  WHEN Roxxy was a teenager, she read a tragic story featuring bowls of ice cream but no spoon. As someone who had been denied ice cream for years, she didn’t quite get the moral of the tale back then, but over the next few days she came to understand it inside and out.

  Being with Andrew Sinclair was nothing short of amazing, better than anything she had ever known, including the year she won five Grammys. True to his word, he had stuck to non-missionary positions and the sex only seemed to get better each time. It got to the point where they were going at it three times a day. In the morning, at night, and at least once a day Andrew found an excuse to pull her away from the children’s program and have his way with her in whatever s
ecluded nook they could find.

  It got so bad that when he announced he had to go up the nearby mountain for a few days to oversee the renovations on Sinclair Chalets, the two-story ski lodge that attracted most of Sinclair Ranch’s winter business, she came with him. She was so sprung, she even volunteered to sort out the non-profit paperwork for the camp, while she was there with him.

  Andrew warned her non-profit paperwork was pretty complicated, but with him there to answer any questions she might have, she breezed through it. She ended up getting it all done by the Saturday before his trip. She even knocked out a rough draft of a presentation speech for the orgs he was meeting with in D.C. She presented it all to him in the lodge’s great room, in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, which led out to a view of the beautiful, snow-capped mountains just beyond.

  Andrew, who had more heart than desire to deal with paperwork and speeches when it came to the non-profit aspects of his business, was thrilled with her work. “When I come back from the East Coast, let’s talk about putting you in charge of the non-profit division of Sinclair Ranches.”

  “What?” she said, her eyes going wide.

  “I was planning on hiring somebody anyway, and I can’t see anybody doing a better job with this than you’ve done”

  “But I don’t have any experience. In fact, I was planning to go to the University of Southern California in the fall to get a degree in non-profit management so I could understand how to do this stuff better.”

  His eyes darkened. “So that was your plan. Lay low with me for the summer then disappear for college?”

  “No,” she answered. “I was originally planning to vacation for the rest of the summer and then go to college, but the…ah, divorce…kind of put a crimp in my original plans.”

  Andrew didn’t answer, just went back to typing on his computer, leaving Roxxy to start incorporating the notes he’d given her on the extra laptop he’d dug up for her to work on.

  But about thirty minutes later, he said, “Okay, I sent a note to a friend of mine on the board at University of Montana-Missoula. He says they don’t have the same degree track as USC, but they offer a lot of the same courses, so you could technically cobble together your own degree program.”

  Again with the ice cream. “Andrew, I don’t know…”

  “Just think about it. You’d get on the ground experience running our camp program, and of course Sinclair Ranch would pay for your classes.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” she said.

  “I want to do that. Do you know how hard it is to find somebody who not only wants to go the extra mile to get a children’s camp off the ground, but also doesn’t mind handling all the crazy non-profit paperwork—you are willing to handle any and all paperwork, right?”

  “Yes, but—“

  “It’s a deal then.”

  He got out of his leather chair and set aside her laptop before pulling her out of her own leather chair and into his arms.

  “Wait, Andrew,” she said, giggling. “I never agreed to anything.”

  “If you think I’m going to let you go to some other school and end up working for some other non-profit, you’re out of your mind,” he said. His voice lowered and grew serious. “You’re staying right here with me, sweetheart. I’m not taking no for an answer.”

  Roxxy didn’t want to give him no for an answer. Who could say no to ice cream, even if you didn’t have a spoon? “I’ll think about it,” she said.

  He grinned down at her, large and wide, like he already knew he’d caught her in his trap. “You do that, sweetheart. And as long as I have you here, all soft and agreeable in my arms, lets talk about this interesting piece of lingerie I picked up in Buellton the other day.”

  Roxxy raised her eyebrows. “You did not buy lingerie for me.”

  “Peach lingerie to be exact. Bra that’s only held together by a flimsy bow, panties with a sheer crotch. Very nasty stuff, none-too-befitting of a lady.”

  She grabbed him by the collar. “Good, because I’m not much of a lady. Especially when it comes to a gentleman like you…”

  Less than an hour later, she was telling him, “I want you more than I want your brother.” And then without warning, she heard herself say, “Andrew, I—I love you.”

  Roxxy gasped on the inside, not believing she’d let those words slip out of her mouth. She had known this man less than two weeks, and here she was declaring her love for him.

  But then he gave her the most tender look and said, “It feels like I’ve been waiting my whole life to hear you say that. I love you too, sweetheart. So fucking much.”

  And then he showed her how much all afternoon long.

  CHAPTER 19

  WHEN they came down from the Sinclair Chalets that evening, Roxxy was sad to go. But Andrew’s trip was the next day and he wanted to eat dinner with the staff at least once that week, since he wouldn’t be back in town until the next Saturday.

  “Maybe you should go without me,” Roxxy said after they dropped off their luggage in Andrew’s bedroom.

  “I thought you hated eating alone.”

  “Yeah, but I should probably get over that, especially since you’re going out of town.” Plus, it seemed silly now, she thought to herself. She didn’t care about staying as thin as possible anymore and she’d already gained at least five pounds since coming here.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked. He came over to her and slipped his arms around her waist. “And before you say, ‘nothing.’ Remember, I don’t like being lied to.”

  “Omission isn’t exactly lying,” she said.

  “It’s not being honest either. And I want you to be straight with me in all things.”

  Roxxy almost felt numb to the guilt at this point, it had become such a constant companion. Still, she once again wearily pushed it aside in order to answer his question. “The last time we saw your staff together we weren’t dating. You were still with your perfect girlfriend, and they all thought you’d be asking her to marry soon.”

  “You think they’ll hold our relationship against us?”

  “I think they’ll think I stole another woman’s man. I mean, that’s what her father thought. That’s probably what Amy thinks, too.”

  “But that’s not what happened, and I doubt any of the staff will have the balls to say anything to you anyway. If they do, tell them truth. You didn’t steal me from anybody. You had my heart as soon as you set foot in Montana. You can’t steal what already belongs to you.”

  Roxxy’s own heart melted. And not for the first time that week, she wished she could keep Andrew. More than anything, she wanted to be the woman he thought she was, to stay in his heart forever.

  And he was right about no one having the balls to say anything to her. The reception definitely wasn’t as warm as when she’d been Andrew’s poor, recently divorced sister-in-law. But Elena made room for the both of them at the table.

  “We missed you at the children’s program this week,” she said.

  “I missed you guys, too,” Roxxy answered. “But hopefully we’ll be able to get even more children up here with all the good work we got done at the ski lodge, planning the camp.”

  “So that’s what you were doing up at the ski lodge all this time,” Elena said. Her eyes twinkled with amusement. “Working.”

  “Among other things,” Andrew said. He slipped an arm around Roxxy’s shoulders in a move that felt like both a shield and a claim. “What have you all been up to since we were gone?”

  A litany of work stories and small complaints ensued. The rest of the hour flew by with Andrew answering questions and letting them know what all he’d do about the handful of problems when he got back.

  By the time dinner was through, a few of the staff members who hadn’t greeted her at all when she sat down were asking her about the camp and what they were planning.

  They just want Andrew to be happy, she realized as she answered their enthusiastic questions. And she was struck with a sens
e of awe. There weren’t many people in her life who cared about her happiness. One of them was dead, and the other had killed her. Again her heart ached for the loss of both friendships. She still was having a hard time believing that Dexter had done it, even with all the evidence pointing right at him.

  “You okay?” Andrew asked her, jogging her out of her gloomy thoughts.

  “Yeah,” she answered. Another lie. She was just racking them up with him.

  “You got quiet all of sudden.”

  “I was just thinking. Sorry, did I miss something?”

  Andrew nodded toward Elena on her other side. “Elena asked you a question.”

  “I was wondering if you and Andrew wanted to come out to The Palace. A bunch of us are going after the bonfire tonight.”

  “The Palace?”

  “It’s a honky tonk bar out on the Western edge of town,” Andrew explained. “It’s been there since the eighteen hundreds.”

  Roxxy might have given up her singing career, but the musician she used to be wouldn’t let her pass up the opportunity to visit a music establishment that had been around for over two hundred years.

  As it turned out, The Palace was an ironic name. The place was little more than a huge room with a stage and a bar. But the headshots and tour posters hanging on the wooden slat walls, boasted an impressive array of chart-topping country musicians who had come through toward the beginning of their careers. And that night, Tennessee Big Shots, a band even she’d heard some buzz about would be playing.

  The jovial and longhaired owner, Walt, came out to greet Andrew less than five minutes after the Sinclair Ranch group walked in the door. From what she could glean from their conversation, Andrew had given him a very favorable lease deal after he’d bought the town, and for that, drinks were on Walt the entire night.

  “My staff will appreciate it, but I’ve got to catch a plane in the morning, so I’m staying dry,” Andrew yelled, over the country music flowing out of the juke box. “We’re here because my lady wanted to see a real honky tonk with her own eyes.”