Gray Wolf Security: Wyoming

by Glenna Sinclair

  I couldn’t help myself. I responded to him, wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my fingers in the short hairs at the back of his head, drawing him closer to me. I opened to him like I’d never opened to anyone else, welcoming every touch. His hand moved over my hip, seeking out my voluptuous ass. Normally that would make me uneasy, it would make me especially conscious of my size. But there was something about the moan that escaped his throat when he did it that made me almost proud of the size of my hips.

  I couldn’t believe this was happening, that this man wanted this as much as I did. But there was no doubt in my mind about that. We were standing close enough that there were few secrets left between us. I wanted to touch him, wanted to slide my hands under his shirt, wanted to feel the heat of his skin. But I wasn’t sure what to do, wasn’t sure what I could do without pulling him out of the moment. I didn’t want his kisses to change, didn’t want his hand on my ass to stop touching me. And I definitely didn’t want him to pull away, for him to stop doing everything he was doing. I wished I was more experienced. I wished I could make him feel half what he was making me feel.

  And then he was pulling away, but his hands slipped into mine and he pulled me with him.

  My heart was in my throat when I realized he was pulling me toward my own bedroom door. I tried to remember if I’d picked up my dirty clothes, if I’d put away my dirty panties from the night before. Did I leave my childhood teddy bear out on my bed? Was my bed made? Should I have left it unmade? Would he notice the pictures stuck into the frame of my mirror, the pictures of a family that never really existed? Would he wonder about the man who abandoned my mother and me long before death took him away? Would he care?

  All these thoughts burst through my mind in the few seconds it took for him to draw me through the doorway. And then he was kissing me again and my thoughts simply evaporated. Who could hold a full thought in their head when a man kissed them as thoroughly as he kissed me in that moment?

  He tugged at the bottom of my blouse, pulled it up so that his fingers brushed the bare skin above my waist. It was like being touched with an electrified cow punch, the feel of his skin against mine. I couldn’t help the little sound that slipped from deep in my chest, the sound that was something like a moan and more like a sigh of pleasure.

  He pushed me back, pushed until my bed hit the back of my legs and I sat hard on the edge of the mattress. He smiled slightly as he knelt, his hand moving so incredibly slowly over my thigh before he lifted my ankle and slipped my boot from my foot. The other boot was no work for him, as were my socks. He kissed the tip of my big toe as he pushed my jeans up enough to expose my ankle bone. He kissed me there, too, before rising enough to knock me onto my back. He pressed his face to my cleavage as he began to work the button of my jeans.

  I ran my fingers over his head as he slipped further down the length of my body, kissing me through the thin material of my blouse. He tugged at my jeans, pulling them almost roughly over my hips. I’d never been undressed by a man before. I watched him, my heart pounding; my mind told me I should be doing something, but my lower belly told me to just lie still and enjoy what he had to offer.

  My jeans were gone. He pressed his lips to my lower belly, just above the line of my panties, his lips grazing my skin as he moved upward, his hands pushing my blouse up and out of the way as he moved. I sat up a little as his lips found mine once again, briefly, before he tugged the blouse up over my head. I lay back again, completely exposed in just my panties and bra. I felt like I should be embarrassed, that I should try to cover myself. But the way he looked at me, the heat in his eyes, made it impossible. He was enjoying the sight of me so much, how could I deny him it?

  He began kissing my neck, nibbling gently as he moved downward again. The feel of my nipples caught between his teeth--oh, there couldn’t be anything better in all the world! It was painful, but there was more pleasure in that one touch than in anything I’d ever felt before! I loved it! But then he was moving down again and... how could there be so many wonderful things in the touch of a man’s lips?

  It had to all be a dream. I could never have imagined such a thing happening to me. Never. But what were the chances that a man like Grainger North would want to touch me the way he was touching me?

  And then a thought occurred to me. Was it pity? Was he doing this because of what I’d said when we arrived at the party? Was there some degree of desperation in my kisses that made him want to do this, something that told him I was a pathetic woman who was so lonely that things were beginning to dry up and blow away?

  Did I care what his motives were?

  He moved up onto the bed beside me, his shirt gone. I touched his chest, unable to keep my fingers from his warm skin, unable to keep from tracing the hills and valleys I’d been thinking about since the night I first saw them.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he said, his own fingers tracing hills and valleys on my body.

  “You don’t really think that, do you?” I couldn’t help but ask.

  “I do.” He moved close, kissed the side of my throat as his fingers dipped inside the lace cup of my bra. “I think you’re one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen.”

  I knew then that he must be lying. I moved away, snatching up the first thing my hand came in contact with on the floor. I was little mortified when I realized it was his shirt.

  “Eve,” he said, dragging out the single syllable so that it sounded like a much longer name. “Where are you going?”

  “Why are you doing this? Do you feel sorry for me?”

  “Why would I feel sorry for you?”

  I caught sight of myself in the mirror on top of my dresser, saw the color on my cheeks, the swell of my breasts punctuated by the sharp points of my erect nipples. I looked pathetic, like a child trying to pretend to be an adult.

  As I stared at myself, Grainger came up behind me, his warm, tan hands coming around my waist.

  “Look at you,” he said near my ear. “Look at those amazing eyes. Have you ever seen eyes quite that color? They’re such a mixture of gold and green that it’s impossible to tell at any one moment what color they truly are. And your nose? Do you know how many models would die to have a nose like that? Do you know how many plastic surgeons have tried and failed to create a nose like that? And these breasts…”

  He sighed heavily against my ear. “I’ve been with more women in my life than I’m proud to admit and more than half had breast implants in an attempt to get the same perfection you were given naturally. And, let me tell you, natural is always so much better when it comes to curling up together in bed.”

  He moved his hands over the pouch of my belly, his palms smoothing their way over my hips. His fingers dipped into the edges of my panties, pulling them away from my skin and making them dance, allowing a small peek of the thin, dark hair that grew over my pubic mound.

  “You have curves, honest curves. You’re natural in so many ways that a woman from Los Angeles would find frightening. And an asshole who thought those women were the only desirable women in this world would find you boring. Even unattractive. But I’m not one of those assholes. Not anymore.”

  I leaned back against him, my thighs falling slightly apart as his fingers continued to play under the edge of my panties.

  “Were you once?”

  “One of those assholes?” He met my gaze in the mirror. “I was. I was engaged to one of those women, a woman who thought the only thing that mattered in life was the next compliment on her latest selfie from some sleazy creep who was probably an unemployed loser living in his parents’ basement. I was engaged to a woman who was so self-absorbed that she wouldn’t even consider driving to Illinois to meet my parents, not that I would have ever asked.”

  “What happened?”

  He shrugged, brushing his lips against my shoulder. “After I quit the Navy for her, after I moved to an unfamiliar city for her, she decided I wasn’t the guy she wanted. She hooked up with one of my uni
t brothers who came to Santa Monica on leave to see me.”

  I could see it. I could see the hurt in his eyes, could remember the anger that had burned there when he first came to the motel. It was gone now, that anger, but I couldn’t imagine I had anything to do with that. He wasn’t over it.

  “Is this you trying to get some sort of revenge on your fiancée?”

  He groaned, his fingers stopping what they’d been doing. He pressed his hands against my hips, his palms warm and surprisingly soft against me. He bit down on my shoulder, almost painfully, but not quite. And then he straightened, meeting my gaze in the mirror.

  “To be honest, I don’t know what this is. All I know is that I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t stop feeling absolute need to tear your clothes off every time you brush against me in the hallway, or look at me this certain way. All I know is that I want you.”

  Tears filled my eyes because I’d honestly believed I’d never hear a man say that. I turned and slipped my arms around his neck, pulled him close to me. I buried my face in the crook between his neck and his shoulder, wanting to remember what it felt like to be held in such incredibly masculine arms. I’d never known anything quite like this before and I didn’t know if I’d ever feel it again. I wanted to remember every second of this night.

  “Let’s live in a vacuum for one night,” I whispered against his ear. “Let’s forget that your fiancée hurt you, that my mom is sick. Let’s forget that this is just a scheme to scare away a bunch of people who will never be scared away. Let’s pretend that I’m beautiful and you’re perfect and we know what the hell we’re doing.”

  He chuckled a little. “Okay.”

  Let’s pretend this doesn’t mean everything to me, I added silently.

  He lifted me up like I weighed nothing and carried me to the bed. He lay beside me and I no longer hesitated to touch him. I wanted to touch him. I wanted to feel every inch of his body, wanted to feel everything he was willing to share with me. He tugged my hips under his and pressed himself against me, the length of him. It scared me a little, the power of his desire. His hands had lost some of their gentleness, too, his kiss rough and demanding. I slid my hand under the back of his jeans, touched that rounded ass that was so nice to watch walk away. He sighed against my mouth, moving his hips until he was grinding against me, offering himself a little pleasure while showing me just how true his words had been.

  He slid his hand into my panties, his fingers brushing against things that had never been touched in this way, that had never known the caress of a man. I shivered even as my thighs clamped shut, as my more basic instincts fought with learned instincts, the memory of my mother telling me to save my virtue for the right man and the right moment.

  “Relax, babe,” Grainger said against my ear.

  I tried, really I did. But when his finger brushed against my clit on its way to that most secret of places, my instincts just couldn’t win out.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked, his lips brushing my jaw.

  “I just... it’s a little new…”

  He pulled back, his knowing eyes moving over my face. He cursed, tearing his hands from my body like I’d just told him I was the Virgin Mary or something.

  “You’ve never…?”

  I turned my face away, the blush burning on my cheeks the only answer he really needed.

  “Christ, Eve!”

  “I’m sorry. I should have said something sooner.”

  “Yeah, you should have.”

  He sounded angry. But then his hand was on my belly again, sliding over me with the gentleness that had disappeared moments ago. He kissed the top of my shoulder before tugging my face close to his.

  “This isn’t how it should go the first time, Eve.”

  “How should it go?”

  “It should be with someone you trust, someone who will treat you right.”

  “So, I should wait for the next man who pretends to be my husband? Or maybe the next married man who thinks it’s okay to cheat on his wife with someone she calls a friend?”

  He groaned. “No. It should be someone who’s capable of putting your needs in front of everything, even his own needs.”

  “Okay. I’m sure that guy’s just waiting down the block somewhere... maybe he got lost on his way to finding me.” I groaned, hiding my face behind both my hands. “I’m twenty-three, Grainger. When’s that guy coming for me?”

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he kissed me, his lips soft and gentle as he tugged me against him. And his hand slipped down over my belly again, his fingers slipping under the edge of my panties. He touched me, his fingertip pressing hard against my clit, doing something to that swollen nub of flesh that made me want to jump off the bed. I groaned against his mouth, but he refused to stop and he refused to let me pull away. He touched me until my hips began to writhe against him, then he let his finger slip inside of that secret place, into that space that had never been touched before, but which had spots that were begging to be touched since the moment he walked into my life. I lifted my hips against him and he rewarded me by grinding the heel of his hand into my clit. I cried out, and I swear he smiled as he broke our kiss, turning his head to watch my hips dance under his touch.

  I wanted to ask him what he was doing, wanted to ask why he would torture me this way. But I was so lost in the feel of it, in the pleasure that was dancing up and down my spine that I didn’t have the words. Even if I did, I was sure my brain was short circuiting. All I could do was dance against his hand, all I could do was press my own hands against his and beg him to touch me more. And then I couldn’t take it anymore. This vibration began deep in my belly, bursting outward and upward, running up my spine until a little scream slipped from between my lips and I thought I was going out of mind. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, couldn’t do anything but feel the pleasure he was creating deep inside of me.

  At some point, he moved his hand, pulling me back against his chest. He held me close to him, his wet fingers pressed to my belly, his other hand smoothing the hair on top of my head like a parent soothing a troubled child. I turned into him and wrapped my body around his, peppering his bare chest with kisses.

  “Thank you,” I whispered.

  He didn’t respond. He just held me. And that was as much of a gift as everything else he’d done this day.

  Chapter 11

  At the Ranch

  He hadn’t been invited, yet there he was, walking up the lane of her property. Alone. Sutherland watched him, wondering what game he was playing this time.

  “You didn’t respond to my invitation.”

  “I believe I told you I wasn’t interested in having dinner with you.”

  “But you want your cows back.”

  “They’re my cows. You’ll give them back.”

  He cocked an eyebrow, his expression as arrogant as that accent of his. He walked up close to her, standing just inches from her, invading her personal space.

  “You’ll go to dinner with me eventually.”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m hosting a party.”

  “Oh, I noticed. I also noticed you failed to invite me.”

  “I don’t know you.”

  “A nice conversation over dinner would fix that.”

  Sutherland’s eyes narrowed. “You are stubborn, aren’t you?”

  “I am when I see something I want.”

  “Well, I hate to disappoint you.”

  Sutherland spun on her heel, walking away from him. She felt like she looked strong, confident when in reality her knees were knocking and her legs felt as though they would give out if she had to walk much further. There was something about Bodhi Archer that made her feel like she was no longer the accomplished woman she’d become, but more like the child she’d been, jumping from one foster home to another, always looking for someone to love her but always coming up short. He stripped her of her confidence, made her feel needy. She didn�
��t like feeling needy.

  She could feel him still watching her as she walked up the front steps of the house. Kirkland was standing there, waiting for her, as he always seemed to be these days. He took his job very seriously and sometimes that was a burden she wasn’t sure she liked carrying. But at least he carried a huge part of the burden and that was a relief. It’d been a long time since she truly had someone to share her burdens with.

  “What’s going on?” he asked, his eyes flicking over Bodhi.

  I glanced over my shoulder. He was watching us, a dark expression on his equally dark face. I shrugged.

  “Just a neighbor come to see what’s going on.”

  Kirkland didn’t seem to buy her excuse at face value, but he had enough respect not to call her out on it. Instead, he turned his back on Bodhi Archer—something he seemed to be getting a lot of tonight—and changed the subject.

  “I’m concerned about Eve and Grainger.”

  “Did you see that kiss he laid on her when they first arrived?” Sutherland whistled under her breath. “Every woman in the room could feel that one.”

  Kirkland’s face tightened a little. “I’m worried he’s playing with her emotions.”

  “What if she’s the one playing on him?”

  Kirkland didn’t seem to be in the mood for jokes. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at her with a fierce gaze.

  “We’re a fledgling company. We don’t have room to annoy or otherwise alienate our clients. If Eve is unhappy with this when everything is said and done and she talks about it around town, we could say goodbye to future, local clients.”

  “She wouldn’t do that to me.”

  “Are you sure? Even if he broke her heart?”