Fall Into You (12 page)

“Attraction is not the issue.” His hands were on her shoulders again and she let him
turn her around. His blue eyes found hers, the stark desire in them stripping her
defenses. “But I don’t have simple flings. I don’t do simple anything. My tastes are
intense and specific. And beyond the fact that I don’t want to mess with my friend’s
sister, you’re not a submissive. I don’t do the vanilla thing.”

Her heart was a hard, pounding knot in her throat. He was too close for her to get
her thoughts in order. “Vanilla?”

“Regular sex and relationships. I’m not satisfied in that kind of dynamic.”

She blinked, her tears forgotten. He didn’t do normal sex at all? And…“Wait, you think
I’m attractive?”

He laughed and lowered his hands to his sides. “Good grief, freckles. Is that your
first question for me after my big I’m-a-kinky-bastard confession?”

She crossed her arms. “Yes. I need to hear what you think. The truth.”

He looked to the heavens as if pleading for some divine patience. “The truth? You’re
hardheaded, you wear clothes too big for that body of yours, and you have awful taste
in wine. But yes, I wanted you so badly last night that I could barely make it back
to my cabin before wrapping my hand around my cock and jerking off to thoughts of
you.”

Even the tips of her ears went hot at that. “Well, there’s a backhanded compliment
if I’ve ever heard one.”

He shrugged. “You wanted the truth. Would you rather I bullshit you?”

She glanced down at her comfy T-shirt and loose jeans, seeing her clothes through
his eyes instead of hers for the first time. “No. I can take it.”

He tucked his hands in his pockets, his expression turning resigned. “Go back to your
cabin, Charli. Don’t tell anyone about this place, and we’ll move on.”

“So that’s it?”

“We’ve got nothing left to discuss.” He turned around and headed through the side
door that led to his office. He picked up the phone, keeping his back to her. “Marc,
can you come to my office and make sure Ms. Beaumonde makes it back to her cabin safely?
Thanks.”

And with that, she was dismissed.

So they were attracted to each other and it didn’t matter. Because she wasn’t some
dainty, submissive girly girl.

If she were, then he’d probably have his mouth on her right now. And hell, she’d probably
have her promotion, too.

The thought was like a match being struck. She peeked over at Grant again, a small
smile forming on her lips.

Tonight, she’d let him be. But tomorrow…Tomorrow he’d find out just how hardheaded
she could get.

Game, set, match, cowboy.

Grant grabbed the rag he’d thrown over his shoulder and wiped the sweat off his face.
After the night he’d had, the only cure he could think of this morning was working
his ass off in the fields. At least the grapes were doing well because everything
else was going to shit. He’d had another failed interview with a potential trainee
last night and then Charli had, once again, thrown a grenade into his evening.

Lord, seeing her kneeling there in that class had taken the floor right out from under
him. For a moment, he hadn’t been able to decide what action he wanted to take more—drag
her to his office to yell at her or haul her off to his play space to discipline her
in a much more inventive fashion. His body had wholeheartedly decided on the latter,
but his brain had overruled.

This time.

He trudged through the last of the brush to get back to the main path, but muttered
a curse when he saw Charli sitting on the fence near his cabin. Think of the devil
and she shall appear. Charli had hooked her feet onto the cross post and that red
mane of hair was
blowing around her like wildfire. If trouble could be photographed, that’s what it
would look like.

She grinned and hopped off the fence when she saw him, a new light in her eyes. “Well,
look at that. The cowboy actually does farm work?”

The shift to a lighthearted version of Charli surprised him. Huh, maybe they were
actually going to be able to move on from the mess of the last few days. He closed
the distance between them and tossed the rag back over his shoulder. “Have the calluses
to prove it. How ’bout you? Aren’t you supposed to be at your job, Ms. Beaumonde?”

She raised her palm to block her eyes from the glare and looked up at him. “Research
day.”

He reached up, took off his hat, and sat it on her head. “You need to get yourself
a hat or some sunscreen. You’re already starting to burn.”

The hat tilted off-kilter, too big for her head. She tucked her hands in her pockets
with a shrug. “Irish skin, what are you going to do?”

He could think of a number of things to do with it. Like lick it or bite it or turn
it bright pink without any help from the sun. He pushed the images out of his head.
Focus, man.
“So, what are you doing here?”

“I need a favor.”

Oh, Lord.
“And I need a drink. Inside.”

He walked past her and she followed him into the house, finding her way to one of
his kitchen stools. He grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge, set one out for
her, and then went about downing his in one long gulp.

He could feel her stare on him.

“You look like one of those Coke commercials with the sweaty construction worker,”
she mused. “Though he had his shirt off. That’d be better.”

He tossed the empty bottle into the recycle bin and sent her a
wary look. “Be careful, freckles. That sounds dangerously close to flirting.”

“So?” she challenged, toying with the label on her water.

“So, I thought we settled that little situation last night.” He leaned against the
granite-topped island, feeling more than just physically tired. Resisting Charli was
wearing him down like an iceberg grinding rock. “You said you needed a favor.”

She straightened in her seat, and he couldn’t help but notice how fucking cute she
looked with his too-big hat on her. He wondered what she’d look like wearing
only
his hat.

“It’s kind of a big favor.”

Maybe he should have put bourbon in his water. “Okay…”

She rolled the plastic bottle between her palms, her hands belying her nerves despite
her steady voice and gaze. “Is Colby available for private lessons?”

He damn near choked on his own spit. “What?”

“Well, I was thinking about those women last night and how…graceful and feminine they
were. And if I could learn to capture even ten percent of that thing—whatever that
thing is that those women have—I think I could turn things around at work.” She peeked
up at him from beneath the hat, but then trundled on, not giving him time for a response.
“There’s an anchor position coming open soon. Those positions are a big deal. There’s
no way they can pick someone who doesn’t have rock-solid sports chops. I already have
the knowledge and a big story brewing. And I know I’ve got what it takes to be on
camera. I just need some, I don’t know, refinement. Some softening.”

Grant’s thoughts were banging together in his head like cymbals.
Crash. Crash. Crash.
She wanted sub training? With
Colby
? “But you’re not a submissive.”

“Who says I can’t learn? I can be a good student.” She squared her shoulders. “I graduated
salutatorian in high school, you know.”

“It’s not simply a skill, Charli,” he said, his protest coming out
more emphatic than he intended. “It’s like a bone-deep thing, a part of who a person
is. I’ve spent years in this world. I can sense it in people. And with you, I don’t.”

Her eyes narrowed dangerously, and he could feel her digging her heels in on the topic.
“So what, you’re like the Sorting Hat in
Harry Potter
? You’re the be-all, end-all decision on which group I belong in?”

“No, I—” He stood, this whole conversation knocking him for a loop. “You don’t even
know what you’re asking. That training is about more than kneeling and looking dainty.
It’s about being a
sexual
submissive. You ready to have Colby tie you up, spank you, and have you suck his
dick in front of a room full of people?”

Her already sun-pink cheeks went full red, and he thought he’d succeeded in scaring
her.

But then her nipples hardened beneath her T-shirt, and the pulse at her throat visibly
quickened. Subtle signs, but ones that were his instinct to notice. He blinked at
her, his own blood surging below his belt.
Fuck
. What he’d said had turned her on. She was having a submissive response.

At that realization, the need he was trying so hard to keep locked down jumped to
the surface, uninvited but undeniable. All the urges he’d been failing to feel each
time he interviewed a potential sub trainee flooded him like they’d just been lying
there in wait for this moment, ready to yank him under. He stepped closer and braced
his hands on the counter, inches from her. He needed to back away, to kick her out.
Her response was probably a fluke, a reaction to the mention of sex. But he couldn’t
move.

She was holding her breath, but he didn’t sense any fear. He sensed…want.

His voice was deadly calm when he finally managed words. And they weren’t the words
he’d intended to say. “Are you thinking about Colby doing those things to you, Charli?
Is that why your body is coming to life?”

Her hands had stilled against the bottle and the hum of the refrigerator seemed deafening
in the silence. She stared at the patch of counter in front of her, her normally defiant
gaze not venturing upward. “No. Not him.”

A slew of emotions came with her answer. Relief that she wasn’t hot for Colby. Dread
over who she
was
interested in. And fear about the swiftly dwindling control he had over his own desires.
“Damn, you’re bullheaded. Didn’t you hear anything I said last night? I can be tough
and mean, freckles. I don’t just like to dominate a submissive; I like to
own
her while she’s in training with me. You think I’m bossy now? You have no. Fucking.
Idea.”

She looked up at him, a glimmer of honest fear finally inching into the green depths
of her eyes.

He took his hat off her head and tossed it to the side. “You need to go back to your
cabin and forget about this plan. You’re in over your head.”

She stared at him with a go-to-hell in her eyes and a fuck-off hovering on her lips.
He thought she was going to traipse off in a huff. But after a few pregnant beats,
she tilted her chin up. “Try me.”

The response didn’t even compute in his head. “What?”

“Go ahead and dish it out, cowboy. I’m tougher than you think. If I can’t handle it,
I’ll never bring it up again. If I can, you agree to train me.”

She leaned back in her chair, sassy with courage now.

Which only made the crotch of his jeans go tighter, that haughtiness of hers taunting
his most primal instincts. The sleeping tiger inside him stirred and lifted a dark
eye, his prey in sight.

This was wrong in so many ways Grant had lost track. Charli was Max’s sister. Non-submissive.
Someone Grant was supposed to protect. They had no contract between them, no carefully
negotiated limits. She was a D/s virgin, for God’s sake. It was everything he was
against.

But the switch had been flipped, the temptation too much.

He would have her.

“You think you can handle it, huh?” He crossed his arms and stared her down. “Stand
up, Charli. And don’t say another thing unless it’s
yes, sir
.”