by Brill Harper
“I don’t think so, sweetness. I thought about passing by and letting things unfold however they might, but turns out I couldn’t. I wanted to be a part of whatever naughty thing you were up to in here.”
She gasps. “I didn’t mean to.”
Oh, she feels good trembling in my arms. “Maybe not, but you might as well stay for the climactic finish.”
I expect another argument, but we hear a loud groan from the bathroom, and she slumps against my chest. Her chest heaving and her nipples poking through her shirt. In the shower, Colt has one hand on the tiles, his head bent, and he’s furiously stroking. Atta boy. Go get it, Colt.
I whisper low into her ear, “Do you like to watch, Bliss? He’s with you in his head. How does that make you feel?”
She shudders on a breath. “I should go.” But she doesn’t struggle out of my hold, just presses harder into my chest.
She’s the perfect mix of innocent and dirty. She’s got them both bottled up together inside, shaking her up like bubbles in a champagne bottle. I want to be there when she pops that cork. Hell, I want to be more than there. I want to mop up her spills with my tongue.
One more groan from Colt. “I'm coming, Bliss...coming deep in your little pussy.”
We both hold our breath watching his body tense and release. You can’t make out much detail, but my mind fills in the rest. I’ve seen Colt’s naked body plenty of times at the swimming hole. I’ve never seen him turned on, never watched him come. My own dick is getting button imprints from my 501s, and I’m sure the housekeeper knows exactly what is pressing into her. The air is charged with sex and desire. Hers. Mine. Colt’s.
He’s struggling for air right now, and his massive body twitches as aftershocks of a really good come overtake him. It feels wrong, holding the woman he wants while we watch him in a private moment. It also feels right in all the wrong ways. I’ve never been a voyeur before, but it stokes a hunger I didn’t know existed. I want to watch him do more. To himself. To Bliss. I want to watch her shatter when she can’t take the teasing any longer.
The sound of water turning off causes her to stiffen, and I let her go so she can run out of the room.
I still don’t want to court her, but I sure the hell wouldn’t mind this summer taking a different turn. We can send her back to college with a whole lot more experience if she’s game.
I don’t run out. Instead, when Colt exits the bathroom with a towel slung low on his hips, he finds me standing in the same spot with my arms crossed over my chest.
“Jesus, Wylder. What the hell?” he says, startled.
“Been thinking about what you said.”
He cocks his head. “Yeah? And.”
“Let’s take her to town tomorrow night.”
“Why? I thought you didn’t want to court her.”
“I don’t.”
“Seems like a date to me.”
“The Hound Dog isn’t really a dating kind of place.”
“It’s the only thing we’ve got in town. So you want to take her out, but it’s not a date.”
“Yep. I guess I do.”
“You’re a strange fucker, but fine. Tomorrow, the three of us go to the Hound.” He crosses to his dresser and pulls out a pair of track pants, then looks at me. “Are you wanting to braid my hair? Why are you still here?”
When I realize the reason, I flip him off and go.
I wanted to see him drop his towel.
Bliss
I’M NOT SURE WHY I agreed to come to the saloon with Colt and Wylder. Pretty much anything Wylder suggested I went along with today, desperately afraid he was going to tell Colt that he caught me spying on him.
I should tell Colt myself, which I guess is another reason I agreed to come with them to the Hound Dog. It seemed like something that would be easier to do after a few beers. I need to do it before Wylder outs me. It’s not good to let him have blackmail material, though I spent a lot of time last night thinking about what he might want me to do to keep my secret. What kind of perverse acts I’d be willing to do for his silence.
And of course, when I tear my mind off indecent ideas about Wylder, it goes right back to Colt fantasizing about me while he stroked himself. The shape of his body. The strength and force of his passion.
It’s been a super long day.
The Hound is a dive, just like they told me it would be. I expected country music, but instead a jukebox is blaring out Metallica. The floor is sticky, the tables dirty, and the whole place reeks of stale beer, sweat, and cigarettes. I pause while my eyes adjust to the dim light. A layer of smoke hovers in the air. Apparently, no one much cares about the smoking ban at the Hound.
A big man sits at the bar, tattoos flowing up his big muscular arms. I’m immediately tense. Maybe this was a bad idea. I spin around and am greeted with Colt’s broad chest all of three inches away from my nose. Startled, I take a couple steps back and crane my neck up to look at him. He’s looking down at me with an amused, devilish smile across his face. “You okay?”
I nod. Sure I am. My face heats as I remember him calling my name in his shower last night.
“You don’t have to worry about that guy,” he tells me as if he knows the thoughts that ran through my head when I saw the burly man at the bar. “We wouldn’t have brought you here if it wasn’t safe.”
“He just looks like someone I knew once.”
“You trust us, right?” Colt looks rugged, especially with the five o’clock shadow he’s sporting. He’s got on a t-shirt and jeans, which fit him like skin, and his hair is tousled in a sexy, natural way that suggests just rolling out of bed.
But, yeah, I trust him. And Wylder. Mostly. Wylder would never hurt me, I know. But I don’t think for a minute he won’t be happy to use emotional blackmail on me. He suddenly turns to catch me staring. I blush and smile nervously, but he doesn’t drop his gaze. A strange anticipation in my belly leads to a trembling vibration even lower. My stomach churns anxiously.
“Let’s get a table.”
Colt and I sit while Wylder goes up to the bar to order a pitcher. “Why are you so jumpy tonight?” he asks me.
“This place reminds me of where my mom worked for a while.”
“And that wasn’t a good place.”
I shake my head. “She took me to work with her sometimes. She said she got better tips when I was there.”
“When you were little.”
The shame singes across my chest like a burn. “I was sixteen. She made me wear...I don’t even know why I’m telling you this. She made me wear tank tops that were too small.”
“Did she make you do anything else?” His voice is laced with concern. And anger. Finally, someone besides me is angry at my mom.
“No. I just sat at the bar and did my homework. But I knew they were looking at me.”
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. I’m sorry. Do you want to go home?”
Home. Wow. Two weeks and I already am gripped with an instant longing for the ranch. Which is a pit stop in my life, really. Just a summer fling with stability. “I’m fine.”
“We can leave right now, Bliss.”
A pitcher and three glasses appear in the center of the table. “We’re leaving already?” Wylder asks, taking a seat on the other side of me.
“No. I’m fine.”
“What’s wrong?”
“She’s uncomfortable here.” Colt takes my hand under the table and squeezes it gently before letting it go.
Wylder sizes me up. “Why are you uncomfortable here?”
“It’s nothing,” I answer. “I’m fine.”
“The Hound reminds her of a bad time,” Colt persists.
“Her mouth isn’t broken. Let her talk.” He pours our beer calmly and waits for me to answer as if he doesn’t question that I will.
I wish I were confident like he is. He’s sparked something inside me, though. “This place reminds me of the assholes who used to tip my mom extra money to look at my underage breasts in a tan
k top, okay? Are you satisfied now?”
He slides my glass over to me. “So, you going to let them win or are you ready to fight back?”
“Wylder...” Colt kicks him under the table. “Have a little sensitivity, will ya?”
“She doesn’t need sensitivity. She needs—”
“What makes you think you know what I need, Wylder?” A hint of fear rises in my chest at being so openly defiant to him, and I don’t understand it.
His face is unreadable. “Everyone’s got demons. You don’t get to choose which ones are assigned to you. The only thing you get to choose is if you fight ‘em or let them have your soul. You seem to me to be more of the fighting kind.”
“This conversation feels a whole lot deeper than the ‘let’s go have a beer at the saloon’ that was suggested to me.”
My attempt to lighten the mood does nothing to the dark, penetrating gaze of Wylder. He’s looking right into me. What does he see?
“How do you fight your demons?” I ask him.
He takes a long drink. “I don’t. I like my demons just fine.”
Colt looks at his friend with a different kind of intensity. Then he turns those warm eyes on me. “We can leave. It’s fine.”
I shake my head. It’s like “Eye of the Tiger” starts playing inside my head. “No. He’s right. I don’t want to be scared when there’s nothing to be scared of. The past is the past.”
“I promise you that you never have to be scared with us. We’ll protect you. Always.”
“Who’s gonna protect her from us?” Wylder ponders, pouring more beer into my glass.
“Damn it—” Colt says.
But I pat his hand. “It’s okay. I see right through him now.”
Wylder cocks his head. “What do you think you see?”
“You think you’re toughening me up.”
“And why would I want to do that? I think I like you soft and scared.”
His direct gaze is in opposition with his silent threats. I think he’s daring me. Does he think I will cower? Do anything to cover up my secret? What is it that he would suggest I do to keep Colt from finding out about last night?
The ideas are intriguing and also scary as fuck. Mostly because I would probably do whatever he wanted. Which means I need to fix this myself.
I gulp down my beer and slam the glass on the table dramatically. “Colt, I’m sorry, but last night I watched you masturbating in your shower. Also, I heard you say my name when you did it.”
Chapter Five
Colt
It’s like a bomb dropped in the middle of the table. “You what now?”
It’s not like I’m clutching my pearls or anything, but I don’t have any idea where this is going. Should I be mad? Did she like it? Was she flattered? Pissed off? She’s here, with us, so it must not have scared her away.
Wylder smiles bigger than I’ve seen in a long time. “Kitten, you sure know how to surprise a man.”
I have a feeling he’s talking about himself more than me. What the hell is going on?
She shoots him a look and then turns her doe eyes back to me. “I’m really sorry.” So Wylder knows already. Interesting. Her lower lip trembles, and I forget for a minute I’m shocked and just want to scoop her up and pull her onto my lap. “I was putting your clean clothes away and didn’t realize you had come back in from milking. I should have run out, but—”
“But you were soapy and naked and calling her name,” Wylder supplies helpfully.
I swing my head his direction. “Why were you there?”
“I came in before the big finale. I was in the hall when I noticed her creeping on you. I figured I’d be able to tease the little miss about being a voyeur for weeks, but she just took all my fun away.” He leans his chair back on two legs. “Now I’ll have to make do with watching you squirm when you try to talk your way out of the reason her name was on your lips when your hand was on your cock.”
She’s trying so hard to be brave and be adult about this, so even though I’m embarrassed, too, I settle for the truth. “I took matters into my own hands because I’m a guy, and we do that kind of shit when there’s a pretty girl around.” Or if the day ends in Y.
“You think I’m pretty?” she says it soft-like, stirring up those damn knight in shining armor impulses inside me.
“It’s not a matter of opinion, darlin’. Fact is you’re a beautiful young woman. And I appreciate your honesty. I know that must have been tough to admit you were there.”
“It felt disloyal to keep it from you.”
I hear Wylder’s chair come back to rest, but I don’t pull my gaze away from her. Loyalty is really important to Wylder, and I bet she just gave him something to think about.
“Do you hate me? For intruding?”
“What I would hate is if it made you think less of me or made you embarrassed to be around me. Since you’re here tonight, I’m guessing we’re good?”
She nods. Then she looks at Wylder, and her face sharpens under his gaze. “What?” she asks him.
“You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that.”
She shrugs. “I can be scrappy when I need to. That’s how I survived this long.”
She’s a survivor. She’s had to be, and that pisses me off. What’s worse is that it kills me to know she doesn’t need me. I want her to need me even though I should be glad she can handle things on her own.
We order another pitcher, but Wylder stops drinking. He’s driving tonight. It doesn’t take but a couple more glasses for Bliss to loosen up even more. She’s not drunk. Not really. But she’s relaxed, even poking fun at Wylder now and then.
She’s laughing at a story from our misspent youth when he tells her, “Take your hair down.”
Her smile stays plastered on, but it’s confused now. She looks at me to make sure I heard him say it too. “What?”
“Take your hair down,” he repeats in a low voice. His eyes are glittering like dark glass.
“Why?”
“I like it down. I want to see it.”
Her lips press into a firm line but she’s captivated by the way he’s looking at her. The tone of his voice. He’s just commanding all her attention. “Why do you think you can order me around?”
“I’ve been accused of being bossy a time or two.”
“Only a time or two?”
Oh, hell.
But the way he is smiling at her. I haven’t seen him so relaxed in a long time either. So I let this play out without getting in the middle of it. For now.
She’s holding her own, but she’s definitely rattled. It doesn’t take a genius to see he’s got an effect on her. The way her eyes light up and her breath gets hitchy.
“You gonna take your hair down?” It was phrased like a question, but the implication is more nuanced. Left unsaid was, “Or do I need to do it myself?” But would he?
The battle of wills between them is interesting to watch. The sexual tension molasses thick. I’ve never seen him this way with a woman, never been around him when he does whatever it is he does that make them swoon. He likes control. Always has. Likes a girl to surrender to him.
Me? I just like sex dirty and messy. I’m easy to please. But watching Bliss and Wylder go head to head over whether or not her ponytail is coming out is somehow making me hard. Would he tie her to his bedposts? Would she like to be open and vulnerable to him, trust him that way?
“I prefer my hair up right now,” Bliss tells him in a bratty tone. Is she doing that on purpose?
“That’s fine. I don’t mind you having opinions.”
“Oh, aren’t you indulgent?” she scoffs.
“I can be, kitten. Especially when I’m happy. And what would make me happy right now is to see all that pretty hair loose on your shoulders.”
She studies him. Hell, I study him. If I had a scrunchie, I’d have probably whipped it out of my hair by now. What kind of black magic does my best friend possess? I tip back my glass and watch as Bliss narrows h
er eyes but reaches out and tugs on the fabric holding her hair up. The long dark waves tumble down even as her eyes flash with annoyance.
“Good girl,” Wylder said. “I’ll get us some more beer.”
Bliss
I DON’T KNOW WHAT JUST happened.
I catch the laughter in Colt’s eyes when my hand goes to the ends of my hair. “Why did he do that?”
And why did my insides get all melty from the “good girl” comment?
“You really do have pretty hair.”
I close my eyes, my version of burying my head in the sand. “He just likes messing with me.”
“I think it’s more than that.”
My eyes fly open and Colt is looking at me, more serious now. Arousal whooshes through me. Again. Still. I blink. He said something I need to respond to. “Right. More than that.”
“Bliss, he likes you. And your hair is pretty.”
“He likes to make me nervous is what he likes.”
“That’s how he is. With women. Women that he likes.”
Maybe I shouldn’t drink any more beer tonight because I’m having problems tracking this conversation. “What do you mean?”
He looks over his shoulder to check where Wylder is. “He likes to be in control.”
“He likes to be a stern, demanding, grumpy Neanderthal is what I think you’re trying to say. Should I be impressed that it’s all women and not just me?”
“It’s not all women. And really, that’s not how he sees himself, even if that’s how he comes off at first. He thinks women should be protected. Cherished.”
I fold my arms across my chest and do an impression of him, lowering my voice. “Ordered around.”
Colt laughs. “Yeah, some of that too.” The music changes from some kind of death metal to a slow ballad, of all things. “Wanna dance?”
“Oh,” I answer, very smoothly. Not. “Um.” I’m so verbose. “You want to dance with me?”
He stands and I can’t help but follow the movement, sure my eyes are bugging out. He’s really got the best body. The way he fills out his jeans make me quiver deep inside. “Yes, I want to dance with you, Miss Camden.”