Bound, Branded, & Brazen (17 page)

“So,” he said, seemingly unconcerned that he was practically naked, “why did you come over here?”

It was probably stupid to keep her back turned to him. She spun around to face him. “I . . . I saw a light on here. I thought Grizz had stayed behind, so I was going to see if he’d like to play some gin.”

He folded his arms over his chest, which only served to showcase his mighty fine guns. Damn, he had nice muscles. “Grizz decided to party it up some tonight with everyone else. Why didn’t you go?”

She shrugged. “I had some reading to do.”

“Reading, huh? What kind of reading?”

Her eyes drifted closed for a second then opened again. Might as well end this now. She lifted her gaze to his. “Romance novels.”

“Oh yeah? I like horror myself. The bloodier the better.”

What? No making fun of her reading tastes? No crack about romance novels being fluff? What the hell was the matter with this guy? “I’ve read some horror, too. I read a lot.”

“I do, too, when I have some time and can get away from the constant noise around here. It’s hard to concentrate when half the guys around here think this is a party house.”

She laughed, then found herself relaxing. “I can imagine. I like a quiet place to read.”

“Me, too. Sometimes I take my horse out to one of the pastures to read on the weekends.”

“Oh, that’s a great idea. No one can disturb you out there.” She couldn’t believe she was having a conversation about books with one of the sexiest cowboys on the ranch. She was probably dreaming this, but what the hell.

He moved toward her, and her muscles tensed again.

“Why didn’t you go into town tonight?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Not in the mood to party.”

She couldn’t figure him out. Not at all. He was damn fine looking, could probably have his choice of any woman in town. They’d be all over a hot guy like Gage. And he preferred staying home alone? He was like . . . her. That made no sense at all.

“So what else do you like to do for fun besides reading, Brea?”

“Uh, um, not much, really.” She took a step back, then hit the wall. She would look like an obvious coward if she moved around it, so she stayed put and watched him advance on her.

“That’s all you do? Just work, and read?”

“Yes. Yeah. Pretty much.”

He stopped in front of her, only an inch or so separating them. Any other guy invading her personal space like this would piss her off. With Gage, though, she wanted him closer. She wanted his body pressed full-on against her. God, he smelled so good. Like soap and something indescribable. Earthy and sexy and oh man she wanted to lick that spot on his neck where water dripped from his hair, coating his skin with droplets of moisture. She licked her lips and focused on his face instead. But then she got lost in his eyes—deep blue like an ocean, fringed with long black lashes that were almost too pretty for a man. Almost, but not quite.

“Um, what do you do, Gage?”

He searched her face, and he wasn’t smiling now. “I train horses. I ride. I read. I like to go to town now and then. I like to go to movies sometimes. I like museums.”

She cocked her head to the side. “You like museums?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

He laughed. “You think it’s odd that a cowboy would go to a museum?”

“No. Yes.” She frowned, shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe. You confuse the hell out of me, Gage. I don’t know what I’m saying. I should go.”

“Why do you want to go, Brea? Do I make you uncomfortable?”

She swallowed. “Yes.”

“Good uncomfortable or bad uncomfortable?”

His question made her pause. “Honestly? I don’t know.”

 

 

gage watched the stream of reactions cross brea’s
face. She might try to hide what she felt, but her expressions told him everything. Which was a damn good thing, because what she said confused the hell out of him. Her body said one thing, while her mouth said something else entirely.

And his body’s reaction to finding her in the bunkhouse while he’d just been in the shower thinking about her—getting hard thinking about her—now that was a bonus. Hell, he’d been getting hard thinking about her since the day she’d stepped foot on the Bar M wearing her quirky skirts and sandals, trying to hide behind all that hair. He’d thought her sexy and mysterious then. When she’d gone into Tulsa with Jolene and come back looking like a goddamn fashion model, he’d just about swallowed his tongue. No matter how she dressed and how she wore her hair, Brea was beautiful. It was in her eyes—a mysterious chocolate brown that couldn’t hide her thoughts or reactions.

And the flimsy towel he wore did nothing to disguise
his
reaction to her. Good thing she seemed too preoccupied to notice the nice tent the towel made in the vicinity of his dick. He liked talking to her, liked her being here with him, and he didn’t want to scare her away with his raging hard-on.

The last thing he’d ever do was push a woman into doing something she didn’t want to do. He liked his women willing. So if Brea was throwing off mixed signals, he’d just as soon step away. The thing was, he didn’t think he’d read her wrong out at the barn today, or even the last couple weeks since she’d arrived at the ranch. She’d tossed enough glances his way that let him know she was damn well interested. That’s why he always zeroed in on her eyes—the ones that always seemed to be glancing his way. A man would have to be dead or disinterested not to notice. And he sure as hell wasn’t dead or disinterested.

It was just getting her to admit
her
interest that might be tough.

Then again, she might want him to take charge. And yeah, he liked being in control, so if that’s what she wanted—as long as he was damn sure that’s what she wanted—he was all over it.

“Tell me what I do to make you uncomfortable.”

He liked the way she blushed. It was sweet, innocent, and a lot of the women he’d been with had long ago forgotten how to blush—over anything.

“I . . . You’re very direct, aren’t you?” She cast her gaze somewhere over his left shoulder. He tipped her chin and put it back on his face.

“Yeah, I am. I don’t think there should be any misunderstanding between a man and a woman. If you’re honest with each other up front, then there’s no disappointment later on.”

“I guess you’re right about that. Most men I’ve known haven’t been very honest.”

He cocked his head to the side. “Honest about what?”

“Anything. Everything. What they want, how they feel, what they’re thinking about. They’ve all been one great big mystery I’ve never been able to figure out.”

And probably all jerkwads, too. “You’ll find out real fast I’m not a mystery, Brea. I’ll tell you anything you want to know, and I’ll be honest with you.”

If it had been possible for her to lean farther into the wall, she would have. “That would be refreshing.”

He laid his palm next to her head, wanting so damn bad to press his body against hers, to feel her lush body, to tuck his head against her neck so he could inhale her fragrance. But he didn’t want to push her into anything she wasn’t ready for. This filly was skittish. He wanted to give her a taste of what she could have, but it was up to her to ask for it, to tell him she wanted what he intended to offer her. And he wanted her coming into it with her eyes wide open.

“I’ll tell you right now I like you. I want to get to know you better. But I’m not looking for a relationship or romance. I’m a drifter, Brea. I move from one place to another, so I’ll let you know up front that while I’m attracted to you, I’m not boyfriend or husband material.”

“I see.”

“I want to kiss you, touch you all over. I’d like to get you naked, lick every inch of your body and make you come in ways you could never imagine.”

Her big brown eyes widened. “Oh, my.”

“Does that scare you?”

“No. That’s . . . really honest.” But he saw her throat work as she fought to swallow. Yeah, she was scared all right.

“I’m gonna kiss you now, Brea. Okay?”

She gave a shaky nod. “Okay.”

He moved in, pressed his body flush against hers. Damn, that felt nice. She was all firm, lush curves, and he couldn’t resist touching her. But like a wild horse, she was jumpy and flinched at the first touch of his hand against the bare skin of her shoulder.

“Easy, honey.” He kept his hand there, then let it slide slow and easy down her arm. “See? Nothing to be afraid of.”

“I’m not afraid of you.”

He smiled down at her. “Bullshit. I terrify you.”

Her lips lifted. “Maybe a little.”

“I’m not going to hurt you. I’m just going to kiss you.” Holding only her wrist with his fingers, he leaned in and brushed his mouth against hers, a slow slide of lips against lips, breathing in her breath. Oh, man, she tasted sweet, her lips so soft he wanted to press in and go deeper. But he didn’t, just took it slow and easy, letting her get used to having him close to her, his mouth against hers, until she sighed and relaxed. Then he moved in, slid an arm around her waist and tugged her against him, again nice and easy, not with the violent passion he had to work hard to restrain.

He wanted this woman, wanted her bad, wanted to bury his straining, hard cock inside her. Hell, he wanted to do a lot of things with her, including get her naked and spread-eagled on his bed so he could touch and kiss her all over. He wanted the sweet mouth she kissed him with wrapped around his throbbing dick. But none of that was going to happen tonight, not when she was still wary, so he was just going to have to tamp down his needs and see to hers.

So he let her get used to the feel of his mouth on hers. Light kisses, with just the touch of his tongue against the seam of her lips. And maybe he did press his body against hers, and maybe she could feel his erection—after all, he was only wearing a towel, and he couldn’t mask his hard-on—but he wanted her to know how she made him feel. And when she moaned and unglued herself from the wall to align her body with his and laid her hands on his shoulders, he took that as a positive sign.

So he did have to rein in his baser impulses, like ripping off his towel, then her clothes, and burying his cock inside her. There was plenty of time for that later. With Brea he’d have to take baby steps. While he didn’t know everything about her, he could tell she had a decided lack of experience, and he didn’t want to overpower her. So he settled for a few kisses, lightly holding her, and gritting his teeth against his overwhelming urges. He wanted her to feel in control, like she could take a step back at any time and just walk away and catch her breath.

Only she wasn’t stepping back. She wasn’t walking away. She leaned into him, wrapped her arms around his neck, deepened the kiss and slid her thigh between his legs, pressing her jean-clad pussy against him. And she made sounds that would drive a sane man crazy.

Gage had all kinds of control, but he was still a man. A damn near naked man with throbbing balls and a moaning, sexy woman in his arms kissing him like she wanted him. He liked her eager, but he was afraid his careful control was going to shatter in the next few seconds if he wasn’t the one to take a step back and run like hell.

He broke the kiss, sucked in a breath of air and extricated himself from her arms around his neck. He smiled down at her and kissed her fingers. “I think that’s enough for tonight.”

Her eyes were glassy, her lips puffy from their kisses. She had a hazy smile that gradually receded as she frowned in confusion. “What? You’re stopping? Why?”

He took a careful step back, hoping like hell his towel would stay attached to his hips. “Because I want you to think about what you really want.”

She moved forward again. “I know what I want. I want you.”

Now his lips curled. “A minute ago you said I terrified you.”

She shook her head. “Now you don’t. I’m fine, really.”

He folded her hands over each other, then took another step back, creating distance between them. Whether it was for her or him he wasn’t sure. “Think about it, Brea. Make sure you know exactly what you want before you decide it’s me.”

She heaved a shaky sigh. “Fine.” She moved to push past him. She was hurt and angry. He didn’t want her to misunderstand, so he grabbed her wrist, jerked her against him.

“I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

She tilted her head back. “I don’t think I got the wrong idea at all. I think you made yourself perfectly clear.”

“No. I don’t think I did. I was patient with you tonight, Brea. I held back. This is what I want you to make sure you’re ready for.” He fisted his hand in her hair, brought his lips to hers and gave her what he’d wanted to give her all night—a real kiss. She gasped as he parted her lips with his and drove his tongue inside her mouth. He claimed her mouth with demand, with possession, with the understanding that if she came to him again, she’d be his for the taking. He wound his tongue around hers, then sucked, crushing his lips against hers, pushing her back against the wall and letting her feel him—all of him—until there was no mistaking exactly what he wanted. And when he’d pushed her—and himself—to the brink, he let go.

Brea’s eyes shot open.

“If that’s what you want, if that’s what you can handle, then you let me know.”

She still hadn’t moved; she stared at him in shock and confusion. It took all the willpower he had to stay away from her.

“Good night, Brea.”

He turned and walked back into the bathroom, his cock hard, his body on fire for her. The kiss had shaken him more than any other woman had before. She might not be experienced, but she banked a fire that, once stoked, would burn out of control.

He wanted to be the one to light that fire, stoke its embers and watch it rage.