by Maisey Yates
She was panting, writhing against him as he cupped the back of her head so he could take the kiss deeper. His tongue was hot and slick against hers, and the friction made a well of need open up between her thighs. She felt hollow, she felt... Like she might die if she didn’t have him. Thrusting hard and deep inside her.
“You talk big,” she said against his mouth. “I hope you’ve got the equipment to back that up.”
“I’ve never had any complaints, Princess.”
“I’m sure I could find a few.”
“No, baby. You’re not going to have any. Not after this.”
“Are you just going to talk? Or are you going to fuck me?”
She had never spoken to a man like that in her life. Had never even dreamed of saying something so raw and carnal. Because she’d never been this desperate before. And it didn’t matter. Because it was Creed Cooper, and he didn’t even like her. So it didn’t matter what he thought of her. Didn’t matter if he thought she was dirty or bad or wrong for talking to him that way. For demanding that he take her up against a wall. For fighting with him with one breath, and demanding he do something about the heat between them with the next.
There were no boxes here. That was the beautiful thing. There was nothing but this.
“My pleasure.”
Then her shirt was torn open. Buttons scattered all over the floor, and she didn’t care. He pulled her bra down, exposing her breasts, and then those big, rough hands were cupping her tender flesh, his thumbs skimming over her nipples.
She gasped, arching toward him, reveling in the way she filled his palms. She had never been like this.
And suddenly, as he stripped layers of clothes off her skin, she felt like that suit had been removed along with it. That layer that had felt so foreign. So wrong. And even though she had never in all her life behaved like this, the situation suddenly felt more real. Suddenly felt more like who she was. Like the Wren beneath all that she had been created to be.
It was her turn next. She pushed his shirt, shrugged it over his shoulders, and revealed a body that put her wildest fantasies to shame.
She hadn’t known. Not really.
She hadn’t even begun to guess how beautiful the man was. How much all those muscles would appeal to her. His chest hair, the scar on his side. Everything that made him a rough, uncultured-looking man, the likes of which she had never had before.
And everything after that became a blur.
A fumble born out of desperation.
She worked at his jeans while he pushed her skirt up over her hips, hooking his finger around the elastic on her underwear and shoving it to the side while she freed his cock. It was big and thick, gorgeous. And she had never particularly thought that part of the male anatomy was gorgeous before, but that was the only word for it. A thing of actual beauty. She was far too happy for herself to be annoyed with him that his outrageous ego was not in fact misplaced. He had earned the right to be full of himself.
And all she wanted was to be full of him, too.
“Please,” she whispered against his mouth.
“That’s the first time you’ve ever asked me nicely for anything,” he growled, pressing the head of his arousal to the entrance of her body, teasing her, teasing them both.
She’d never been so wet so fast in her life. So ready. She had never craved penetration like this before. She had never craved another person like this before.
She had never thought much about her sex drive, because it had never really felt like a drive. She had thought of it as something like a sweet tooth. Something people had to varying degrees, and sure, sometimes a piece of cake would be nice. But she just wasn’t one of those people who obsessively craved sugar, or sex.
This felt like a drive. An urge. Something that came from deep inside her that she couldn’t control or minimize. This was something like insanity.
“Did you still want that fuck, sweetheart?” His voice was a growl, feral and compelling.
“Yes,” she said. “Please yes.”
And then he was inside her.
He was so big that it stretched at first. Hurt a little bit. But in the best way.
Every time he drew away and then thrust back into her body, he did so with a growl. And she clung to him, the hard drive of him deep inside her everything she had fantasized about and more. She had not truly known that it could be like this. She had thought that people made up stories. She had thought for sure that...
Well, when her sister had lost her mind over Holden, Wren had judged her.
But she hadn’t known it could be like this.
Raw and terrifying. Wonderful. Electric.
There had been no more denying this than there was denying herself air.
It seemed to make perfect sense now. This thing that had mystified her only a moment before. This anger turned need that rocked everything she was.
Of course, this was right next to the anger that was always threatening to combust between them. Of course, this was the other side of all that need. Of course.
How had she ever thought it was anything else?
He whispered things in her ear. Dirty things. Shocking things. But he called her beautiful. And he kissed the side of her neck, and it made her feel like she might break apart. She didn’t know why.
And then suddenly, everything came to a head, and she couldn’t breathe. All she could do was cling to him, to keep herself from collapsing onto the ground, to keep herself from flying into a million pieces. She dug her fingernails into his shoulder and cried out as pleasure took over. He wasn’t far behind. On a growl, he found his own release, his body pulsing inside her. And when it was over, they both collapsed there against the wall, sweaty and breathing hard.
“This wine,” he said, reaching around her. “This will do.” He grabbed the bottle, then bent and picked his shirt up from off the floor. He righted his clothes disturbingly fast, and then left her standing there.
She tucked her blouse as firmly into her skirt as she could, crossing the bottom ends and getting the thing to more or less cover her breasts. And then she just stood there for a moment, shell-shocked.
She’d just had sex with Creed Cooper against the wall.
And he had walked away like they hadn’t missed a beat between talking about wine and screwing each other senseless.
She pushed the skirt down over her hips. If it wasn’t for the intense throbbing between her legs... If it wasn’t for that, she would have thought she had hallucinated it all. Because how... How had that just happened?
She grabbed another bottle of wine, not even reading the label, and walked back upstairs. He was in position, his face like absolute granite.
“Want to finish tasting?”
“Are you... Did you hit your head down there?” she asked.
“Where?”
“Why are you acting like we didn’t just have sex?”
“It’s done,” he said.
There was something bleak in his green eyes, and it disturbed her. She was a woman. Wasn’t she the one who was supposed to freak out about this kind of thing? She wasn’t particularly worried about how many partners she’d had, but it was one of those things other women often seemed to worry about. But he was the one who looked...well, vaguely ashamed.
“It’s just that...”
Those green eyes were hard as emeralds now. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”
“Why not?”
“It’s not going to happen again.”
Well, on that they could agree. Because there was no way—absolutely no way—that she would ever do anything like that with him again. It had been stupid to do it the first time.
Even though it had felt amazing. She wanted to tell him that. She wanted to cling to him, for just a little while longer. To make him hold her up, because her knees still
felt weak. To tell him it was the best sex she’d ever had, and she didn’t know what to do with the knowledge that the man who could make her body do things she hadn’t known it could do was the one man she had decided she hated more than any other.
She wanted to ask him why that was, because he had taken pleasure with her, too, so maybe he could understand it. He’d certainly had more partners than she had. Had more experience overall. So surely he should be able to...
And she realized she was being a ridiculous stereotype. A woman who was putting emotions into something that had been purely physical.
She had been caught up in that moment. In being outside herself. Well, she had done something out of character. And that was that. There was no going back. But there was also no need to continue on with it now.
He was still Creed. She was still Wren.
She didn’t like him any more now that she’d seen him naked than she had before.
Well. That wasn’t true.
The man had given her the most insane orgasm of her life. It would be impossible not to like him slightly more now than she had before.
“I trust you to make your selections,” she said. She felt numb and shaky. And maybe he had a point that the two of them should act like nothing had happened, but she couldn’t do it while in the same room as him.
“I’ll just leave you to it.”
“You’re leaving?”
“Yes,” she said. “We’ll be in touch.”
It wasn’t until she got back in her car, and was safely back on the road, that she started shaking. She had lived out some kind of fantasy she hadn’t even fully realized she’d had. She’d had sex with her enemy up against the wall. She didn’t intend to have a relationship with him. They couldn’t. They couldn’t even be in the same room without biting each other’s head off.
She didn’t like him. He didn’t like her.
It had been just... Just to feel good.
And then, in spite of the shaking, in spite of the nerves riding through her body, she felt a smile curve her lips. Maybe what she’d done had been out of character. But it had been her choice. And she had liked it. She had liked it a lot. And what was wrong with that? What was wrong with doing something wild? She hadn’t hurt anybody, not like her dad. And she hadn’t done it for anyone else. She had done it for her. She had done it because she hadn’t been able to make any other choice. Because she had wanted it so damn much.
That was a Wren choice. The real Wren. The Wren who lived somewhere deep inside her. Who didn’t just do things for approval, or because it was easy. Because it was the next step on the path.
She couldn’t help but be proud of herself for that.
And she couldn’t be ashamed of it either.
For the first time in her life, Wren Maxfield had done something truly spontaneous. And she was just going to enjoy it.
Three
Eighteen years of flawless self-control had been completely destroyed in under an hour. He could throw a whole parade fueled by his guilt and regret. The trouble with guilt and regret, for him, was that it was such a tiresome old standby that his body immediately converted it to anger.
He was currently outside on his ranch trying to burn off the rage that was firing through his veins. She had done this to him. She had made him into something he didn’t recognize. Or worse, something he did recognize. Someone he knew from a long time ago. Someone who had made mistakes others had to pay for.
Damn Wren Maxfield.
And damn his libido.
He was thirty-four years old. He was better than that. Better than a quick screw against a wall. Better than ignoring her and what had happened right after.
Dammit. He had not handled that well.
He picked up a large boulder, hefted it upward, then walked about five feet before dropping it down in the spot where he was building a retaining wall near his house.
The ground was soft and slick here, made of clay, and when it rained, it had a bad habit of turning into a flood, and quickly. So he was building a wall to make sure that the water funneled where he wanted it to funnel. He’d already dug a trench, which had helped with a little of his frustration. Lifting boulders would hopefully be the antidote for the rest of it.
“I thought I might find you here.”
He turned and saw his brother, Jackson, standing there, leaning against the stone post at the bottom of the driveway.
“What are you doing here?”
“Thought I might ask you the same thing. Since you didn’t show up to the winery this morning.”
“I had work to do here.” He gestured to the stones.
“Looks like it. Except... Normally you let us know when you’re not coming in.”
“Since when are you so up in all the winery stuff?”
“I always have been. It’s just that I don’t usually have to come looking for you. So maybe you don’t notice.”
“Did Dad send you?”
“No. But he did ask after you.”
“Well, Dad needs to keep himself busy.”
In the two years since their mother had died, their dad had become something of a hermit. The work at the winery had shifted more to Creed, Jackson and Honey. It was difficult for Law Cooper to deal with the loss of his wife. In fact, it could be argued that he hadn’t dealt with it at all. He’d simply buried his head in the sand, doing things on the ranch that didn’t require him to interact much with people.
“You know, I’m not sure I believe Dad asked after me.”
“He did,” Jackson said, a strange blankness in his expression. “He worries about you. He worries about all of us. Hell, I think he worries about everything these days.”
“Maybe he should start doing winery work again. It might take his mind off things.”
“Might.”
“Anyway. Now you know where I am. You could have called like a normal person.”
“You wouldn’t have answered. Because you’re avoiding me.”
“What makes you think I’m avoiding you? I don’t come into work one morning and you immediately think it’s about you? Nice ego on you, Jackson.”
“All right, not me specifically,” Jackson said. “But something.”
“It’s just this whole thing planning the party.” Creed figured he would get close enough to the truth without actually giving his brother all of it, and that would probably be more believable. “That woman is giving me hell.”
“Scared of a girl?” Jackson took a swing at him, verbally. He was his older brother, and Creed knew he lived for that.
Creed wasn’t in the mood.
He shot his brother a dead-eyed look. “I live for the day a woman gives you hell.”
“Not going to happen,” Jackson said. “I’m not going to let myself get tangled up in knots over a woman. Especially not a Maxfield.”
“The only other Maxfield is Cricket. And she’d kick your ass if you came near her.”
Jackson snorted. “I’d kick my own ass ten ways till Sunday if I ever did anything that stupid. She’s...young.” He grimaced. “Wren, on the other hand, is perfectly age appropriate. If you want her, just have sex with her and get it over with.”
Creed gritted his teeth. “That’s not always the answer, Jackson.”
“Look,” he said. “I know you had a bad experience. But it’s not like you’re a monk.”
“No,” Creed responded. “I’m not. It isn’t that I quit having sex, but I don’t let my body tell me what to do.”
Too bad he had. Too bad he had one hundred percent followed his libido and nothing else.
And he knew that he should talk to Wren about the fact that they hadn’t used protection. But she was a grown woman. She was probably on birth control, and if she wasn’t, she would handle anything she needed to on her own.
“The proble
m is that you banged her already,” Jackson said, his expression suddenly going sly. “And you’re pissed about it.”
Creed about ground his teeth into powder. “Go away.”
“You did. Well, what the hell are you going to do about it now? Is there any point beating yourself up over it?”
His brother’s question gave him pause. “I mean, I think there’s always a point in beating yourself up about something.”
“Yeah, but you’re a martyr. So, let that go for a second. You’re a grown person, she’s a grown person. You don’t like her, who cares? You’ve been with plenty of women you don’t even know.”
“Sure. But then the possibility for liking them exists.”
“What does it matter? You’re not going to be in a relationship with her.”
“No, but it seems...like the wrong thing to do.”
“Sometimes the wrong thing to do feels pretty damn good. Maybe you should try it.”
“You forget. I did.”
“You’re not sixteen anymore. Neither is she. You’re not going to have your life gutted by some girl and her family intent on keeping her to the straight-and-narrow path they put her on.”
And that was the bottom line of it all. Creed had to keep control, because he knew what happened when he didn’t. And more to the point, he knew the way that other people could then take control of your life.
“I know that.”
“Yeah, but you act like you don’t sometimes.”
“If I didn’t learn from a mistake like that what kind of fool would I be?” Creed asked.
“The normal kind.”
“Well, whatever is going on with that now, you don’t know what it’s like to disappoint him quite in the way that I did.”
Jackson only chuckled. “You don’t know everything about my life, little brother. And I don’t claim to know everything about yours. But quit moping. We have things to do.”
“Since when do you care about any of it?”
“I don’t. But honestly, talking about this joint venture with the Maxfields is about the only thing that’s gotten a reaction out of Dad in way too long. He was interested in it. And...I care about that.”
