by Tawna Fenske
Okay, so no one’s likely to notice our Wednesday morning working breakfast that doesn’t include breakfast. Or work. Or—
“You’re fretting again.” He smiles and leans in for another kiss. “I promise no one’s thinking twice about whether we’re at our desks right now. Hell, we both put in twelve-hour days all weekend.”
“I know, you’re right.” That’s honestly not what’s bothering me. It’s this growing sense that sleeping with Dean Judson has done the exact opposite of getting him out of my system. His smile, his body, his meticulous, beautiful brain. They’re all I can think about lately.
Which isn’t to say it’s affecting my work. On the contrary, Dean and I work together like a well-oiled machine. Plans for Juniper Ridge are coming together perfectly, and I’m proud of the work we’re doing.
“By the way, there’s something I wanted to ask you.” He sits on the edge of my sofa, shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows, and I catch myself wondering if that’s a new thing. The Dean I met last month was never this casual. “It’s about your screen time.”
“My screen time?” I fumble to find myself in this conversation. “What, like how much I’m on my phone?”
He laughs and shakes his head. “Not what I meant. Also, not my place to judge.”
My breath snags in my throat. How refreshing to date a guy who doesn’t believe he has the right to dictate my life choices.
You’re not dating. Just boinking. And for a limited time.
“I meant how much on-camera time you’re required to put in once the show gets started,” he continues like there’s not a full conversation happening inside my scattered brain. “I’ve been thinking that if you’re not comfortable being in the spotlight like that, we could revisit that part of your contract. Totally up to you, but I wanted to put it out there in case that’s something you’re worried about.”
I swallow hard, absorbing the importance of his words. He’s giving me a choice. He’s considering my concerns, my complicated history with my mother and the showbiz limelight. Has any guy I’ve dated ever done that?
You’re not dating…
“I’m good with it,” I assure him. “I really am. I trust that everyone here will handle things with class and sensitivity.”
“Good.” Dean grins and stands up. “Gotta go. I have an eleven o’clock with a couple that wants to open a sporting goods shop in one of the retail spaces.”
“Need another set of ears?”
“Thanks, but we’ve got it covered,” he says. “Cooper’s sitting in on it. He’s really into the whole outdoorsy scene.”
“Good luck.” This time, I’m the one who kisses first. I pull him to me, pressing my lips to his as my body seeks out his warmth and strength.
When I let go, we’re both breathing quicker. “Damn.” Dean laughs and shakes his head, then makes a beeline for the door. “I’d better get out of here before we start round two.”
More like round thirty-four, but who’s counting? “I’ll see you at the four o’clock meeting.”
“Sounds good.”
I listen for the sound of the door shutting, then take a shaky breath. What’s happening here? Am I falling for Dean Judson, or just enjoying a quick fling? I’m honestly not sure. I know he makes me smile. I know he makes me feel amazing in a million different ways, but is that enough to trump the fact that he’s the boss and I’m the last woman in the world who should date the guy in charge?
I distract myself for a while, straightening my clothes and running my fingers through my hair. Roughneck’s snoozing in the corner, but I feel bad for ignoring him the last hour. I go to the cupboard and grab one of his favorite chicken jerky treats.
“You’ve been such a good boy,” I tell him as he takes it gently from my hand.
Spying a paperback on the floor beside his bed, I pick it up and read him a chapter from my favorite Kennedy Ryan romance. We’ve just reached the end of chapter twelve when my doorbell chimes.
Roughneck perks up his ears and gives a hopeful little “uff.”
I glance at my watch, startled to see it’s already ten. “Your date is here,” I tell him. “Ready for your walk with Lana?”
He hops up, wagging not just his stub tail, but his whole body as he prances to the door. He pauses and scoops up the toy basketball I got him yesterday, eager to present an offering to his lady love.
I follow him to the door, smoothing down my skirt to make sure I don’t look like a hussy who just shagged Lana’s brother on the sofa.
“Hey there,” I say as I open the door. “He’s ready for you.”
Roughneck drops his basketball at her feet, earning a bright chirp of laughter from Lana. “Oh, that’s very nice. What a good boy.”
As she bends to pet him, I glance around my living room, surveying for signs of my morning tryst with Dean. There’s nothing out of order, nothing to give away our guilty little secret. I suppose this is one upside to dating a guy who’s enough of a control-freak to think of everything.
You’re not dating…
“Is he a basketball fan now?” Lana’s smiling as she straightens, and Roughneck picks up his ball again.
“What? Oh, Roughneck—I’ve been reading to him from Kennedy Ryan’s Long Shot.”
“That’s a good one.” She brushes a lock of honey hair off her face. “Good thing he’s emulating the basketball aspect of the story and not the domestic violence one.”
“He’s a lover, not a fighter.”
“The world needs more of that.” Lana glances toward my bathroom. “Would you mind if I used your powder room? I should have gone before I came over, but—”
“No problem, be my guest.” She’s walking my dog for free; the least I can offer is some toilet paper. “I’ll round up some doody bags.” Wow, that was awkward. “For Roughneck,” I clarify. “For your walk.”
She laughs and heads for the bathroom. “I knew what you meant.”
As she disappears through the door, I take a closer look at the living room. One couch cushion is a bit askew, so I straighten it and step back. There, that’s good. Were those two coasters there before?
I’m pretty sure Lana hasn’t memorized the placement of my coasters, so I order myself to step back and calm the hell down. The toilet flushes, and I hear water running in the bathroom. I step into the kitchen and try to look casual as Lana steps out with an odd little smile on her face.
“You want me to take this back to Dean?”
She holds up a leather wallet I recognize instantly. The DLJ monogram is a dead giveaway. Crap.
“Oh, um—yes. Yeah, thanks, that would be great.” Heat rushes my cheeks, and I order myself not to sound guilty. “He came by to drop off the files for—”
“Relax, Vanessa.” She smiles and pats my arm. “You know what my job was in Hollywood, right?”
“Public Relations?” I croak, not sure what this has to do with anything.
“That’s one way to put it,” she says smoothly, tucking the wallet into the pocket of her white capris before bending to hook the leash to Roughneck’s harness. “Another way to put it is that I got paid to safeguard people’s secrets. To make sure embarrassing things were never made public if that’s what someone asked of me. You understand?”
I nod, grateful for her discretion. I should probably try harder to deny what she’s assuming, but it feels good to let my guard down just a little.
Maybe that’s what I’m doing with Dean. Why being with him strikes just the right chord in me. “Thank you,” I murmur. “Thanks for everything.”
“Don’t mention it.” With a smile, she moves past me through the kitchen, leaving me wondering just where this is headed. I should be careful. I should be concerned.
But as Lana skips out the door with my dog, all I can feel is happy.
Chapter 13
CONFESSIONAL 352.5
Judson, Dean: (CEO, Juniper Ridge)
Remember when we were kids and you guys used to break into my room and
mess up all my stuff? Hiding my baseball glove, turning my books upside down, shit like that. Drove me bonkers. Huh? Yeah, I figured that’s why you did it. I mean, I used to think it was just about pissing me off.
I still think that, but now I wonder if it wasn’t about love, too. About knowing I needed to chill out sometimes so I didn’t have a stroke before middle school.
No, goddamn it. Stop touching my mug.
“Watch your step.” I catch Vanessa’s hand in mine, aware I’m not the best person to give advice on tromping through the woods at night.
Or in the daytime, for that matter. The Judson kids didn’t exactly grow up roughing it.
But Vanessa just laughs and squeezes my hand. “Thanks. You want to know another awesome thing about being out here after dark?”
“You mean aside from your promise to get naked?” A prospect I’ve thought about all week, to be honest. “I didn’t think it got more awesome than that.”
She laughs and stops walking so she can turn and face me. “The snakes that live in this area aren’t nocturnal,” she says, whispering even though we’re all alone below the southern ridge. “It’s too cold at night, so they’re all tucked in their dens instead of lying around in the sunshine waiting to pounce.”
I don’t ask how she knows all this. If I’ve learned anything in the weeks I’ve known Vanessa, it’s that she’s smart as hell. If there’s something she doesn’t know, she researches the crap out of it until she’s as knowledgeable as the leading experts on everything from culinary trends to the best brand of condom.
The latter is something we’ve tested pretty thoroughly these past couple weeks. What? I know it was meant to be just a one-time thing, but come on. The sex is amazing, we get along great, and our working relationship is solid as hell. I know I should worry about things spiraling. My feelings, the fact that I can’t keep my hands off her—all of this is new to me.
But is it so wrong to want to see where this goes? To want Vanessa so much that I almost don’t care that I’m losing control of the situation.
“So now what?” I’m whispering, too, which lends to the excitement of what we’re doing out here in the woods. “This spot looks flat enough.”
Laughing, she draws her body up against mine and kisses me until I see stars. “Eager, huh?” She kisses me again and draws back to look me in the eye. We flicked off our flashlights already, but the moon is bright enough to see the spark of delight in her eyes.
“I’ve gone thirty-two years without having sex in the woods,” I say as I kiss my way down her neck. “I don’t think I can wait another thirty seconds.”
“Mmm, that feels good.” She tilts her head back as I unbutton her shirt, moving my mouth over the spots I know make her moan like that. I’ve learned her body almost as well as my own, and I love knowing I can deliver this kind of pleasure.
I’m playing with fire, I know that. I’ve fucked up royally in the past. I’ve been a shitty boyfriend, a shitty fiancé, a shitty guy in general.
But don’t I get some points for recognizing that? For wanting to do better this time?
“Dean.” She murmurs my name like it’s a prayer, like we’re the only two people on earth. Out here under the stars, with crickets chirping in the distance, it feels like we might be.
I bury my face between her breasts, breathing her in. The flowery scent of her skin mingles with the earthy tang of the forest, and I’m dizzy before I know it. “You taste so good,” I murmur, licking my way down her abdomen.
She gasps as I unhook her bra and toss it aside, covering her breasts with my hands. “Have I mentioned how much I love your breasts?”
“Once or twice.” Her voice is high and airy as she turns in my arms so her spine curves against my chest. I groan as she grinds her ass against me. “Have I mentioned how much I love whoever invented hiking skirts?”
“I never knew that was a thing.” But I’m grateful, especially as I flip hers up to discover nothing but a skimpy little thong between me and where I’m hoping to be. I slip the fabric aside, hissing out a breath as I find her slick and hot and ready for me.
“You’ll have to thank Cooper for the skirt,” she says. “Pretty clever to score all those product samples from the camping gear people.”
“You’ll have to stop thinking about my brother,” I tease, nipping the back of her neck as she arches her back to grind against me. “It’s throwing me off my stride.”
She laughs and presses into my hard-on, making me wish I had a hiking skirt of my own. I’d be inside her if I didn’t have this damn zipper.
“Your stride feels pretty perfect to me.” She tips forward and crosses her arms against the gnarled trunk of a pine tree, grinding against me through my jeans. “Are you going to stop teasing soon and fuck me?”
“Now who’s eager?” I’m grinning as I unzip my fly and shove my jeans around my hips. The condom is already in my hand, and within seconds I’ve rolled it on and I’m sliding inside her. “Oh, fuck.”
It’s like this every time, slick and tight and so mind-blowingly great it takes my breath away. Actually, that’s not true.
As Vanessa cries out, and I thrust into her again, I realize it’s getting better. Better than it was our first or second or twelfth time. Better than anything I’ve felt in my life.
That doesn’t have to mean anything.
But it does.
I know it does; I’ve known it for days. This thing we’re doing, it’s so much more than sex. I don’t know what the hell it is, and that should definitely scare me.
The thing is, it doesn’t. When I’m with her, I feel safe and whole and hopeful I can crawl from the wreckage of my last relationship and just be myself. I’ve never done that before, not ever. I’ve never been comfortable enough to let my guard down, to be at ease in a relationship and in my own skin.
Vanessa moans again, and I can tell she’s getting close. I’m almost there myself, and I grip her hips tighter to thrust hard and fast the way she likes it.
“Don’t stop,” she pants. “Dean, oh God.”
“That’s it,” I coax as she slips her fingers between her thighs to rub her clit. I love how she does that. How she’s confident and in control enough to get herself there.
My ego reminds me that I’ve got a role in this, too, so I tilt my hips to hit the spot that makes her cry out and clench around me.
“Yes!” She screams the word as she drags her nails down the tree trunk. A flock of night birds scatters as Vanessa clenches and cries out and comes apart in my arms.
I’m three seconds behind her, thrusting and pumping and losing myself inside her. My God, it’s unreal. These feelings, the pleasure, this total loss of control.
I never knew it could be like this.
When we both catch our breath, Vanessa straightens and turns. Grinning as she tugs her skirt down, she stretches up to kiss me. “Check that one off your bucket list.”
“That was…whoa.” Way to sound like a damn caveman.
Vanessa just laughs and smacks my ass. “You’re officially an outdoorsman now.”
I get rid of the condom, tucking it in one of Roughneck’s doody bags because I’m not an asshole who leaves garbage in the forest. Not even if I own the forest.
When I straighten back up, Vanessa’s staring up into the tree with a frown. “Huh.”
“What?” I look up, and there it is. Her bra, pink and lacy and dangling fifteen feet off the ground.
Vanessa squeezes my bicep. “Guess you don’t know your own strength, Judson.”
“That’s kind of impressive.” I glance around for a fallen limb, calculating how long it should be to snag the bra out of the tree.
But Vanessa’s way ahead of me. She’s already striding toward the trunk, grabbing one of the lowest branches to hoist herself up. “You know what my mother said when she caught me climbing the oak tree in our backyard?”
I stare at her, mesmerized by the glow of her breasts in the moonlight. “Maybe you sho
uldn’t do that topless?”
She laughs and climbs higher, stretching up to reach the next branch. “No, but close. She said it wasn’t ladylike. That men feel uncomfortable around women who engage in unfeminine pursuits.”
Watching Vanessa—this woman, this marvel of nature—climbing higher into the evergreen like she’s done this a thousand times, I’m positive I’ve never seen a more perfect example of powerful feminine grace. I open my mouth to tell her to be careful, then shut it again. She doesn’t need me to manage her.
She’s doing just fine on her own.
“How old were you?” I ask, sucking in a breath as her foot slips just a little.
But she catches herself and draws her body up onto the next branch. “Eight,” she says. “Can you imagine? Talking to your eight-year-old daughter about landing a husband?”
I shake my head, too angry to say anything right away. As I watch Vanessa snag her bra off the limb, a wave of admiration washes away my fury, leaving something that feels alarmingly like love.
But no, it can’t be that. We’re just fooling around here. We can’t be serious.
“Crazy.” I shake my head, hoping she thinks I’m talking about her mother. Hoping she can’t read my mind, can’t hear the words clanging around in there.
I’m falling for Vanessa Vincent.
And even though that’s the wildest thing I’ve ever done, I can’t help smiling. Can’t help stepping forward to catch her by the waist as she descends. She laughs, sliding down my body as I lower her to the ground.
As she tips her head back to kiss me, I wonder how the hell I made it this far in life without having sex in the woods.
How I thought I was happy before I met Vanessa.
Chapter 14
CONFESSIONAL 367
Vincent, Vanessa: (CFO, Juniper Ridge)
You know what my mom used to call me? A free spirit. No, it wasn’t a good thing. I know it might be for some people, but trust me. The way she said it was like “satan” or “calories” or “polyester.” I guess to her, that was the worst thing I could be. Part of me wanted to rebel, to go out and climb mountains and howl at the moon. Most of the time, though…well, I just want to feel safe. Loved. Understood.
