Bind Me Close: 3 (Knights in Black Leather) (16 page)

Willow pressed her hands together, solemn at his tone.
“You’re not saying all you want me to know.”

“No. I want you to see her.”

She agreed. “What’s good for you?”

“After we go dancing?”

“Sure.”

Leanne returned and this time she had no chip on her
shoulder. Giles ordered their dinner and they indulged in small talk as they
polished off a gigantic rack of ribs and all the fixings. When he told Leanne
they both needed a cut of tequila lime pie Willow complained of possibly
exploding.

“I’ll never get on the floor to dance.”

“Nope. Have the pie. You need your energy.”

That sounded all too much like Wade to her and she went
silent, brooding again about him, her and Willow Talks.

“Don’t go back there,” he urged her, taking her hand again.
“Stay here with me.”

“Okay. Funny, you talk about staying here.”

“What do you mean?”

“Yesterday I got a job offer from Jed for my sister Skye and
me too. To teach school. I called Skye this morning and she is really excited.
Filled out the online app as we talked.”

“Hot damn. That would be great if she moved here! Would you
consider coming too?”

She shrugged. “Not sure. I’d have to think over all the
issues.”

“But your sister is ready, huh?”

“Teaching jobs are still tough to find, what with all the
budget cuts since the recession. She wants to stay in Texas because she’s a
team roper. Very amateur at this point but she loves the excitement of it.
Plus, she’s young, very pretty too, even if she swears she’ll never marry
anyone.”

“Why’s that?”

“The usual story. Had her heart broken. She’s sweet though
and some man will scoop her up and treasure her.” Willow went quiet, thinking
about the odds of landing a man here. They were so good. But sound
relationships were built on more than initial attractions. “Lord knows, she
would eat up the attention she’d get here.”

“Where the men are good and plenty?” he asked, squeezing her
hand. “Willow, let me say this. I like you and not just because you’re an
available woman. And time is the best way to learn if a man and woman are meant
for each other.”

“Wow. If you ever decide you don’t want to be a doctor you
can go into business reading women’s minds.”

Sweet and smiling, Giles stared at her. “At the risk of
being forward I’m going to tell you a few things that you might not have heard
yet about our little town.”

“I’m all ears. I’ve been told there are few women in Bravado
and that the men here are always hoping they can attract more.”

“They do.” His hazel eyes twinkled. “I’m one of them.
Single, prosperous and lonely.”

“By way of declaring your intentions?”

He nodded, spreading his hands wide. “I’d be a fool not to
tell you I’m interested in you. You’re lovely. Bright. Interesting. Unique, in
fact. Few women come to town to investigate their ancestors. And if it gains me
any points I’d be remiss not to remind you that I am part of your family. Way
back.”

“I saw a partial genealogy chart at Sam’s house. You are one
of those distant relatives I seem to have in every nook and cranny of this
town.”

“I am. So I figure what’s the harm if I ask you out and we
get to know each other better?”

“None.”

“Would Wade say that?” His face went hard with concern.

She stiffened. “I don’t speak for Wade Saxon.”

“Speak for yourself then. Tell me why you aren’t married.
Why you are—how old?”

“Thirty-five.”

“Okay. And not married?”

She shrugged, drawing patterns on her moist mug. “I was
engaged once. It didn’t work out. He was…bossy. Controlling. Arrogant. And
though he was engaged to me I learned he was sleeping with other women. A lot
of other women. He talked a good game to me about loyalty and fidelity but he
didn’t follow his own rules. I called it off. And I haven’t found anyone I’ve
been attracted to since them.”
Except Wade. And maybe you.

She smiled at him. “And you? How old are you? Why isn’t a
sweet guy like you married? And why are you here in Bravado where few single
women live?”

“I grew up in Bravado. My roots are here, back five
generations. My friends are here, my real, honest-to-goodness friends who know
me best, who understand me and my needs.”

He paused at the last word and she tipped her head in
question at his delay.

He set his jaw, tension making a muscle jump in his cheek.
“We have a club in town. Anyone told you about that?”

She sat back and examined him. Handsome man. Tanned and fit.
A prize for any woman. “Sam and Cara told me a bit. I’m to go with them Friday
night.”

“It’s a BDSM club. Private. Know anything about those?”

She shook her head. “Very little.”

“Many of the men in town belong. Subscription only. Women
invited all the time because we have so few.”

“Married women too?”

“Some. Those who want to and whose husbands consent to share
their experiences. We have no controversies because we ensure that those who go
want to play.”

“Play.” She liked how the word conjured an image of sexual
excitement. Fun. “What kind of play?”

“Ropes, floggers, fire play, wax. You name the kink or
fetish. Others come only to watch or exhibit.”

Exhibitionism. My dream that I told Wade about.
Her
pussy gushed at the concept and her eyes drifted closed.

“We welcome all who might be interested. Even in just
observing.”

“We,” she repeated his word and looked him over.
Yes.
“You belong.”

“I do.” He twirled his mug on the wet table. “I’m no Dom. I
don’t do pain for anyone. Not me, not another. I like ménage.”

“Ménage,” she whispered. The word evoked a ripe vision of
her naked before a crowd of onlookers with Wade…and Giles. She leaned toward
him, fascinated by this aspect of the gentle doctor’s character, dying to know
more. “You…um…do this often?”

“When I find a woman who appeals to me and who gets off on the
idea.” He examined her face. “Are you thinking you might?”

She laughed, shy and tense, aroused and oh so intrigued.
“You can read my mind. I cannot tell a lie. I might!”

“Good. Let’s get to know each other better and go dancing.
Then I’ll take you to see the picture of Willow Talks. We’ll check each other’s
radar and decide where we are and what we might like to do.”

She arched both brows, her body reacting to the possibility,
her pussy swelling and her nipples beading. Was she attracted to Giles as much
as Wade? Or just the idea of ménage and exhibitionism? “I’m afraid I feel like
a wicked woman sitting here, getting to know a man so that we can decide if
we’re going to…” She couldn’t say it.

“Willow, if we want to get together I’ll say we’re making
love. Not that other four-letter word.”

“No.”

“Fucking is for fools who don’t really know how to treasure
a woman.”

“Or a man.”

“Right.”

Oh, Giles Benedict was saying all the right things.
Making
me wet and willing to let him inside me.
“And how do you know if the other
man…or the other woman…knows how to make love?”

“I learn.”

“How?”

“I watch other men make love to their partners. I watch the
women. I see how they relate to each other. What they need. What they want.
What they lack and what I might contribute to make the threesome a really fun
romp.”

“Is that what you’re after? A romp?”

“Until the right woman comes along for me, yeah. I want to
give a good time and get one.”

“Don’t you ever just want a woman to yourself?”

His hazel eyes locked on hers and he grabbed both her hands
and held. “I do. I always start that way. It’s best to learn the rhythm of a
woman’s needs before you take her on a stage with another man and show her
off.”

Willow sat back, stunned. Was this her dream come true? “A
stage? All three of you?”

“Have I totally alienated you?”

“I…I…have to say no. You haven’t.”

He grinned, ear-to-ear. “Let’s eat and dance. And see if we
want to do other things.”

* * * * *

The Two Step was a huge tin-roofed dance hall on the
outskirts of town. With a parking lot that held at least two hundred cars and
trucks, the place was jammed. Wall-to-wall women in jeans or miniskirts and men
in their big-brimmed Stetsons and Gambler hats held up the bar that extended
the full one-hundred feet of the side. The loners who hadn’t yet found a woman
to talk to gripped sweating beer bottles, their elbows to the polished oak
while they hooked one boot on the bar rack and watched those fortunate enough
to find a female.

As Willow and Giles strolled in a band played a Western waltz
and dozens of couples made their way round the sawdust-strewn floor. For August
the air was thick with the smell of hops and perfume even though the
air-conditioning was whirring away.

Giles led her to a far high table for two where they both
stood watching the dancers.

“There’s Samantha and Case,” Giles told her. “Near the
fiddler. Case sees me. Bet they’ll be over to say hello.”

The bartender appeared at their side and Giles ordered up
two more Dos Equis. “Unless you want something else?”

“No. Beer is best to dance by.”

“Agreed. Hey there, Sam how are you?”

Sam headed for Willow and hugged her. “Heard you had a good
go today at the house.”

“Hi, Sam,” Willow greeted her and gave her a squeeze. “I
did. Learned a lot. I’m very grateful.”

Case glanced at Giles, a feigned grimace on his face. “She’s
family and she still says she’s pleased. Have you told her any of the tough
stuff yet?”

Giles chuckled. “I’m breaking it to her gently. Don’t want
her running off into the woods all scared of us, do we?”

“If you mean have I discovered that you, or we, have
gamblers and cattle rustlers in our past, I’m good. After all, how much worse
can it be?”

The three looked at one another.

Sam shook her head. “This isn’t my family, boys. You better
tell her.”

“One of Giles’ and my great-uncles was a bank robber.”

Willow rolled her eyes. “Terrific. Was he sent up the
river?”

“Yeah, but he escaped. So far as we know,” Giles said as the
bartender put a couple of beers on their table. “We have a poster that shows
that he joined up with Buffalo Bill’s traveling sideshow.”

“What did he do for the show?” she asked.

Case looked pained. “He put apples on his head and let the
customers shoot them off.”

“That’s awful!” Willow put her hands over her mouth.

“Yeah. He…ah…didn’t last too long at that job,” Case said,
chuckling.

“He died?” Willow was incredulous.

“Well. Let’s say he became disabled early in his
employment.”

“Ouch. Do I want to know how that happened?”

“Suffice it to say that one of his old gang caught up with
him, was angry that he had left the fold, and proceeded to prove it by missing
the apple.”

Willow’s mouth dropped open. “Did he get arrested?”

“He?” Giles cleared his throat. “Ah. No. It was a she who
did it. A woman who rode with his gang and who had suddenly acquired a bad aim.
She sent a dart through his private parts.”

“Oh! God!” Willow was chuckling with the rest of them.

“He lived but not for long. Died of infection.”

“That is just hideous,” Willow said, a hand over her mouth.
“I must not laugh. What was his name? I need to put him on the expanded
genealogy chart I’m making.”

“Long John Paul Benedict,” Giles said.

“Long in the saddle but not long elsewhere,” Sam offered.

“Okay, enough of that!” Giles cut the air with a hand.
“Willow and I are doing this line dance. Are you two joining us?”

Giles Benedict could dance with the stars. He was that
coordinated, that rhythmic and stylish. Better yet, he had the stamina of a
prize bull. After a line dance, a Cotton Eye Joe, a jitterbug and a nice slow
waltz, Willow had had her fill.

He took her cue and her hand to lead her off the floor back
to their table.

“I’m melting.” She was dripping with perspiration.

“Had enough?” His brows arched and his eyes twinkled. “Shall
we go?”

“Yes.”

“To my house?”

To see his picture of Willow Talks, yes. To follow other
pursuits? To get to know him better? Why not? She was free.

“Yes.”

As they passed the doorway to the parking lot, to one side,
as she whirled to wave goodbye to Sam and Case, Willow noticed one man at the
bar. His foot hooked on the rack, his blue eyes forged to her, Wade Saxon stood
drinking a Coke.

Willow’s eyes met his. She nodded.

But he didn’t.

Sorry he had seen her, mad at herself that she was sad, she
kept up with Giles, who evidently hadn’t seen his distant relative, the sheriff.

And Willow wished she hadn’t either.

Giles drove for half an hour or more before he turned off
the two-lane road into a driveway. They hadn’t talked much, only about the
evening and food. That was fine by her. She was tired of stories and drama.
Tonight she’d had a wonderful time with Giles and now she struggled to keep it
that way. Wade shouldn’t have the power and she must not give it to him to
destroy her nice evening with another man. He did not own her. Did. Not.

“Gee. This is beautiful,” she ooed and ahhed over the
striking modern house before her. All glass and steel, Giles’ home looked like
something out of
Architectural Digest
. He flicked a button on his dash
and one metallic panel in the hillside opened for him to drive inside. “I
expected to see a ranch house.”

“I know. Shocking, huh? I had it built when I moved here.
The old family homestead was in terrible shape. Would have cost me more to
renovate than to tear down and rebuild. So I built what I like. It’s totally
eco-friendly too. I have a rain collector, sun panels and geothermal units.
Warm in our rather short winter, cool as a cucumber in the summer. Come on in
and let me show you around.”

“Do your parents live close by?”

“Nope. They’re snow birds.”

“Snow birds?” she asked as he came around the hood of his
car to open her door for her. His garage was so sleek and clean she could have
eaten off the floor.

“They go north in May to Cape Cod. My mom comes from Back
Bay and always hated the Texas summer heat. They have a condo and stay until
October when they fly down and live in Corpus Christi for a few months. My
brother Dirk and I see them every weekend when they’re here. And of course
they’re always onboard for the huge Thanksgiving feast. Do you know about that
yet?”

As he opened the door for her she realized she was walking
into an elevator and when the door swished shut she was suddenly at the opening
to another floor.

“No, tell me about it,” she said as she followed his lead
through a magnificent living room with a red velvet sectional next to an
equally ultra-mod kitchen with steel cabinets, built-in fridge, wide gas range
and a tall wine cooler.

“On Thanksgiving every year,” he told her as he took a
bottle from the cooler and began to open a white wine, “all the Bravado
relatives—and I do mean all—get together either at the MacRae or the Turner
ranch for a reunion and dinner.”

“That must be a gigantic affair.”

“It is. Everyone brings something. The host does all the
work of putting up tents and chairs and tables. We number about two hundred in
a good year.”

“My head hurts to think there are that many of us.”

He grinned.

“What?”

“You said ‘us’.”

“Hmm. Guess I did. You all are getting to me.”

“A good thing.”

She put her purse down, accepted a glass from him and considered
his words. “Why is it a good thing?”

“To have a lot of people who care about you?” he asked, as
though she had to be kidding.

“Do they? Really?”

“Your contemporaries do, yes. The younger members of the
family are carefully taught. So that by the time they are my age and yours they
value it.”

“So much they come back and build big, fabulous houses when
they could live and work anywhere else in the country.”

“Exactly.” He held up his glass and touched the rim to hers.
“To you. And your new extended family. Long may you love each other.”

“You assume they’ll like me,” she said as she sat in a tall
stool at his kitchen island.

“I know they will.” He began to dig items from his
refrigerator. Cheese, pickles, a small salami. “Why would you question it?”

She rolled a shoulder. “I’m part Comanche. Me and mine
caused you and yours a lot of trouble and heartache and pain. I might be
unwelcome.”

Unmoving, he stared at her. “That was yesterday. More than
one hundred and fifty years ago, Willow.”

“Still.” She sipped her very smooth white wine. “People
haven’t forgotten how to be prejudiced.”

“We’re not prejudiced. Not in this town. If anything I would
say we’re happy to dispel the problems of the past. Make up for them.”

“Really, can you? Fancy is dead. Blade too. Willow Talks,
gone as well. Who knows how many others suffered because Bull Elk stole Fancy?”

“Have you suffered?” he asked, sitting down next to her. He
tipped up her chin. “Tell me.”

“Sometimes I wonder if people know and make assumptions
about me because of my looks.”

“In Boston?”

“Anywhere. Even in Lawton among my own tribesmen and women,
I wonder.”

“You only are different if you think you are. If you feel
you are. Here in Bravado for sure.”

“Others can oppress you with their subconscious feelings,”
she told him, looking up into his endearing hazel eyes and loving their soft
beauty. “Their aura can envelope you, swallow you up. It puts you on guard, it
can make you fear that you’ll be absorbed. You become this mighty force,
looking fiercer than you are or intend to be. It’s transforming for people to
make assumptions about who you are and what you are.”

“No one would do that here. No one among our families. We
are too ordinary to give ourselves airs and become bigots. Promise.” He leaned
forward then and touched his mouth to hers. He tasted of crisp white wine and
sweet man, and she let him give her little kisses. His gentleness persuaded her
to invite him to give her more and she sighed into him.

He put away his wine, took hers and discarded it somewhere
then took her in his arms. She came up against him, happy to be so near him. He
felt so good. He was rock-solid, sinew, strong bone and supple flesh. And she
liked him, liked rubbing against him, her breasts drilling into his chest.

He groaned and took her down to her back then settled
himself on top of her. He tangled his legs in hers, his rigid package against
her mound. And as he nestled deeper into the hollow there, he spoke against her
ear. “I like who you are. All that you are. You’re so beautiful. All this
ink-black hair and striking oval face. The eyes.” He pulled back to brush her
hair from her cheek and gaze at her. “Your eyes just make me want to fall into
them, see who you are inside, feel who you are. Explore and give you what
you’ve always wanted.”

She smiled. Were all the men here in town such romantics?
She’d have to beware of that. “You are making me blush.”

He caught her face with both hands. “I want to do more than
that.”

Captured by his spell, she needed to run, wanted to stay.

His mouth curved in a carefree smile. “Yes, I want to
discover what you say, how you taste, how you quiver when I make love to you.”

“I shouldn’t want to.”

“Why?” he asked so temptingly she wanted to cry out and hug
him close.

“I can’t have you thinking you could have me easily or…”

He tapped one fingertip on the crest of her lower lip. “Or
what?”

“That you can have me because I am the new available woman
in town.”

“But you’re not in town, are you? You’re here visiting.
Working. And I am not interested in making love to you because you are…shall we
say…a tourist?”

She laughed hard and he did too.

“See?” he asked. “I can be honest even here when you have me
in a compromising position.”

“I have you?”

“Don’t you? You decide if we go on from this position to
something more intriguing. I’ll need to know soon if we’re just friends or only
relatives or maybe red-hot lovers.”

She giggled over that. “I am not the kind of woman who falls
for any man easily.”
Yet I’m doing that. Here. With Wade. Now you.
“I
can’t figure it out.”

He drew patterns on her cheeks with both thumbs. “Maybe
you’re comfortable with us. Maybe we offer you a mirror to yourself. One you’ve
never known existed. One you never searched for until now.”

“That makes this sound rather metaphysical.”

“Woo-woo, I’d call it.”

She hooted in laughter. “No karma or reincarnation for you,
huh?”

He shook his head. “Genetics. My genes like yours. Yours
like ours.”

A lot of yours.
“Maybe so.”

“You like beer better than wine. Yes, I can tell by the way
you drank it and that is a very fine Chard from Napa. Now just why do you think
you prefer hops to grapes?”

“Genes? Oh come on.”

“You like the summer, hate winter.”

“But horses don’t like me. Now really. If I were merely a
bowl of genes why don’t I like horses?”

“Ah. Easy. Nurture versus nature,” he said, all the while
his hand caressed the side of her breast and she undulated into his touch. “And
some things are meant to be. Genes, traits draw some people together. Willow
Talks was in love with two men here in town. White men, long knives, the
Comanche called us. One was Reg Saxon’s brother. And the other was my ancestor.
Both wanted to marry her. Reg Saxon’s brother almost got strung up for hiding
her at his house. My ancestor was run out of town by a gang headed by Jeremiah
Turner. By the time he came back to get Willow Talks from Fancy’s and the
MacRae’s house, Willow Talks had returned to her reservation. Try as my family
might she wouldn’t leave.”

“That is so sad. All those people who—” Willow caught back
anguish for Willow Talks.

Giles pulled her close. “Don’t cry, darlin’. Don’t. Her
sorrows are gone. So are the men who loved her. But we’re here. Willow, hear
me. Life is for the living. Now. Not tomorrow. And we live in a time when we
can have what we want, most of it, if we seize the moment. I want to seize what
you and I feel for each other. Explore it. This easy companionship that is damn
sexy. Let me make love to you now.”

“Giles, I’m tempted. But I don’t want to lead you on or—or
at worst have you think I’d do it for the thrill of the moment.”

“Tell me I’m wrong. But you want this. Me. And I definitely
want to make love to you.”

“And if in the end there is no connection or karma or
woo-woo, we’ll have the pleasure of it to remember.” She stroked his cheek,
allowing herself to emerge from some cocoon, some layer of reserve.

“And in the end who knows? There may be more.” Smiling, he
got to his feet and extended his hand to her. “Come to bed, Willow. Let’s
discover what we share between us.”

Triumphant, Giles led her toward his master suite. The bed
and bath had served as his personal, private playground for two years. Ever
since he’d moved back to Bravado and finished the house, he had waited for the
day when he brought a woman here who meant more to him than a night’s entertainment.

He liked his women sweet and rather inexperienced. The lack
of a good lover in her past meant a woman could be romanced and caressed into
giving all. He liked his women generous and he loved making them ravenous…for
him.

Like Case and the three MacRae brothers, he liked his sex
long and slow, complicated and somewhat raunchy. But he was no Dominant. He was
a lover of females in all their forms and temperaments. But he liked them with
him and another man, willing, compassionate, savage and freshly eager.

Willow appealed to him because she was so many elements
rolled into one. Yeah, sure, he liked the fact that she was extended family.
And he had the feeling she belonged here in Bravado. Liked the people. Him. He
liked that she was open to lying down in his bed with him after so few hours
together. Some women just freaked if you hadn’t held their hand for months
before you hopped in the sack. Sex was mutual caring and fun. True, he liked
that Willow seemed somewhat unpracticed when it came to men and sexual
relationships. What he had to give her would expand her world. Maybe even tempt
him and her to keep expanding it together. You never knew when you took a woman
to bed what delicious surprises you’d find. And with this one his cock was
jumping the gun to drill inside her before he even got her clothes off and got
a sample of those beautiful nipples that had poked through her t-shirt all
evening.

The bathroom, like the house, was a world unto itself.
Mind-blowing. He had built it that way for his future wife, whoever she might
turn out to be. A spa of blue travertine and black granite, the room had
everything. A walk-in rain shower. Sauna. An infinity-edge bath, really a small
pool, was meant to make love in. The water in the fall at one end ran at a constant
eighty degrees night and day.
Just in case I come home with a woman I have
to have.

Tonight was such a night.

She gasped at the sights in his room and he grinned, warming
with satisfaction that he had already pleased her.

He took her to the edge of the pool and brushed his hands
down her shoulders to her wrists. “Do you want to take your clothes off or
would you like me to do that?”

She inched closer, her lush lips curving in a tease. “You do
it.”

He twirled her around and settled her back against him.
“Close your eyes and feel. When I ask you a question tell me what I want to
know.”

“Okay,” she said with a smile in her tone. “Like what?”

He began to caress her clavicle, the deep hollows there. Her
skin was flawless silk and he was distorting her t-shirt to massage her. She
didn’t object. “How many lovers have you had?”

“Three.” She let her head loll back to rest on his shoulder
and he smiled to himself, his cock a happy dude.

He nuzzled her ear. “Were they any good?”

She hesitated, as if she were recalling them with detail.
“One. The other two, terrible.”

“But you like sex.” One of his hands he splayed open and ran
it over her shoulder.

“I do. I think I like it better all the time.”

That had a ring to it, an implication he understood because
she had most likely spent quite a bit of time with Wade. No matter, Wade wasn’t
here.