Warning Wendy (2 page)

Chapter Three

Wendy crouched down and peeked through a small gap between two fence boards. One by one the men she was supposed to run away from filed past her little hidey hole. Not one of them glanced in her direction, but from their profiles, she knew that they weren’t men she knew from the clubs. Every one of them was a stranger to her.

As adrenaline pumped through her veins and her heart raced faster, she almost wished one of them would look in her direction. Maybe one of them would be a close enough approximation of Lucas. Maybe there was someone she could use to force Lucas out of her fantasies once and for all.

She cursed beneath her breath as another group of men walked past.

None of them felt right. None screamed his natural inclination toward dominance at her the way Lucas always did. She shifted her position. This was a stupid idea. If she had any sense she’d back out now, take off the bright blue tabard she’d chosen and be done with it. She closed her eyes for a moment.

No, anything was better than walking away from, well, from what felt increasingly like her last chance of preserving her sanity. Perhaps if she at least received a sound paddling from someone then—

Wendy tensed. The back of her neck prickled. Someone was watching her. Looking over her shoulder, she peered around the little garden she’d found to hide in. Nobody was there.

Pushing her hair back from her face, she caught the long brown strands up in a high ponytail and secured them in place. If she was going to be chased, it wouldn’t do to let her hair get in her eyes and slow her down.

She spun around and glared suspiciously into every corner of the garden. The gate leading back into the stable yard was wedged open, but no one was there. She was completely alone. Bloody great. As if she didn’t already have enough problems, now she was imagining things, too.

Making her way along the fence, dipping her head as if the fence panels weren’t already a foot taller than her, she crept toward another gate, close to the one where she’d entered the garden.

This one swung open without so much as a creak revealing a small strip of open ground between her and the woodland all the other women had run into earlier. If she timed it right, she could probably make it without being seen. Then, all she would have to do is skirt around the edge and—

Without any warning, a hand clamped down over her mouth. An arm slid around her, pulling her back against a strong, hard body. She tried to scream. The sound died before it ever reached the open air. She kicked, only to be lifted off her feet and carried back toward the stables.

Bucking and squirming, she clawed at the man’s arm and hand and flailed back with her other arm, hoping her elbow might connect with some tender part of him. Suddenly, the sun disappeared. She caught a brief glimpse of the stable roof before that vanished, too.

The air rushed out of her lungs as she was dumped unceremoniously in a pile of hay. She gasped for fresh air; all she got was a mouthful of fresh horse bedding and dust. Spluttering and coughing, Wendy twisted around to face her attacker.

“If you don’t let me go I’ll…”

The guy stood just inside the doorway. The sunlight behind him cast his face into shadow, but his outline was unmistakable.

“Lucas!” Any hint of fear she’d felt died to be quickly replaced by more anger than she had ever felt.

Scrabbling at the deep hay, she struggled to get to her feet. Before she was halfway there, Lucas lifted his right hand and flung something in her direction. Wendy didn’t have time to try to catch it. The thing collided against her tabard with a pop.

Red liquid splattered across the fabric.

A paint gun pellet.

Very slowly, she looked up. By the time she met Lucas’ gaze, her eyes had adjusted to the gloom of the stable.

Lucas. Paintball. Game. Hunt. Shot. Claimed. His.

It only took her mind a split second to get from one end of the equation to the other. She belonged to Lucas for the rest of the evening. She was his.

Except, she wasn’t, because he didn’t want her; he’d never wanted her. All he wanted to do was rescue her from the “perverts” who played the kind of games she loved with all her heart.

She finally pulled herself to her feet. He still stood in the doorway. She pushed at his shoulder, fully expecting him to step politely aside. He didn’t even flinch.

“You’ve made your point. You ruined my day,” Wendy snapped. “I’m not going to listen to a lecture, too.” She turned to one side and tried to squirm through the tiny gap between him and the doorframe.

Once more, his arm slid around her body. There was no shock now, no fear. All she felt was the stupid hope that he would hold her even tighter and refuse to let her go. And that made her mad.

She pushed at his chest, but he stubbornly held on to her. This time she faced him. That was a tactical error on his part. Her foot left the floor. Her knee came up. Lucas altered his grip and pushed her way from him just in time.

Her knee failed to connect with anything as she stumbled back to stand in the middle of the stable.

Wendy shoved her hair back off her face. Hay clung to her ponytail. The damn stuff stuck to the tabard too. Wendy automatically swiped at it. It was only when her hand came away streaked with red paint that she realized what it had really stuck to.

Tugging frantically at the fabric, unable to bear the reminder of a claiming that had been promised but that would never take place, she pulled the tabard over her head and tossed it aside.

“Does this mean you’re quitting the game?” he asked.

She glared at him. “Yes. Satisfied now. That’s what you’ve wanted from the start, isn’t it?”

“No,” he said, with a flash of anger all of his own. “What I’ve wanted from the start is
you
. But if I need to stop you playing stupid games with strangers along the way, I will.”

“What?” She froze, halfway through pacing across the barn.

“You’re not a fool, Wendy,” he snapped. “You can tell when a dom is interested in you.”

All she could do was stare at him as if he’d grown not one more, but at least twenty more heads. “You’re not a dom.”

He blinked, apparently too shocked to be offended.

“I mean—you said kinky people were perverts.”

His gaze narrowed as if
he
had something to be annoyed about.

“And you’re not interested in me,” she went on. “You were very clear on that.”

“I’m not interested in a one night stand with you or a quick game of tie up and tease. I’m not interested in being just a dom and nothing else to you. I tried playing that way a long time ago and it’s not enough for me. I want more.” His eyes narrowed. “And I’ll call men who want to screw you without giving a damn about you whatever the hell I like.”

Wendy was aware of her mouth forming a shocked little “oh!” of realization. Apparently, she was far more a fool than he’d suspected. It really hadn’t occurred to her that he’d rejected all her invitations to play because he was…what exactly? Old fashioned? Gallant? Romantic?

“You want to be my boyfriend,” she blurted out.

His lips twitched slightly. “I’d prefer a term that didn’t make me sound like I was an eighteen-year-old schoolboy, but, yes.” He folded his arms across his chest and glared down at her as if daring her to have a problem with that.

She just stared at him. That was so…well, when she stopped and thought about it, it was so bloody like Lucas!

“Wendy?” he prompted.

She cleared her throat. She’d put a hell of a lot of work into making sure that no one in her acquaintance would think that romantic or gallant appealed to her in the least. “We should stop arguing and finish the game,” she decided.

“You left the game when you took off the tabard.”

“No,” she said, with great outward calm. “The only reason I took it off was because I realized it was the wrong color.”

Chapter Four

Lucas stopped mentally counting to ten. “What?”

“If I’d known you were playing,” Wendy said. “If I’d been sure you’d be the one who caught me, I’d have picked a different color.”

“What color?” His words snapped like an expertly wielded whip.

She tilted her head to one side, as if she needed to think about that very carefully.

He stepped forward. Before his brain had a chance to suggest a sensible course of action, his body took over. His hands wrapped themselves around her wrists; her back hit the stable wall. Suddenly, she smiled. A light shone in her eyes—one that made him sure his body was a lot smarter than his mind in some situations.

“What color would you have chosen?” he demanded again.

The blue she’d worn meant she’d have accepted punishment, but not sex from her captor. He had no doubt she wished she’d picked yellow now. Yellow meant sex, too.

Even though he knew exactly what her answer would be, he still wanted to hear her say it, hear her confirm what she wanted, hear her offer herself to him.

“Black.”

Lucas frowned. “Black?” He didn’t remember that being listed as an option.

“No one chose to wear black today. If they had, it would mean you could do anything to them within the broadest rules of the game,” she whispered. “Sex. Pain. Submission. Anything.”

“Anything?” he echoed, only the word left his lips sounding more like a growl than an invitation.

“Everything,” Wendy offered.

Any other woman he knew would have dropped her gaze in submission at that point. Wendy didn’t. She stared straight into his eyes. There was no weakness in her. She was all strength, all demands for someone to prove to her that he really was as dominant as he thought he was.

He grinned. Sliding one hand into her hair, he tugged at the long brown strands pulling them out of the ponytail as he tipped back her head.

Bridging their difference in heights, he brought their lips together for the first time.

He made no attempt to gently introduce her to the idea. Lucas demanded she give her mouth to him from the very first moment. Thrusting his tongue past her lips, he took instant possession of her. She gasped in shock, but her tongue quickly came out to play and duel with his.

Arching her back, Wendy moved her whole body against him. He leaned forward in response, pressing her more firmly against the rough stone wall of the stable.

It took all his resolve, all his need for far more than a kiss, to make him take a step back. He caught hold of Wendy, twisted her around and tossed her down into the hay again. It was piled up in deep layers ensuring she’d have a nice soft landing, but she couldn’t have known that.

Somehow, she already seemed to trust him. She didn’t even attempt to remain on her feet but collapsed back as if she wanted nothing more than to roll in the hay with him for the rest of her life.

It only took her a second to catch her breath then she lifted an eyebrow at him, challenging him to do his damnedest.

“Strip.” He loomed over her, his thumbs hooked into the belt loops of his jeans, making no move to help her with that task.

Wendy didn’t look the least bit cowed by the command. She smiled up at him but made no move to obey.

“If you don’t do it, I won’t do it for you,” he warned. As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew he’d made the right choice. His tone turned even more serious. “Dominance on its own isn’t enough.”