The Climax Montana Complete Collection

by Reece Butler

  A deep growling engine surged. The tall black poles beside the truck started moving. She stared at them, confused.

  “Why are those poles moving?”

  He cleared his throat. She looked to her left. He gave her a superior grin.

  “We’re on a boat, Jane. The poles aren’t moving. We are.”

  She looked ahead, beyond the front windshield. Lights glistened on the far shore. She groaned.

  “I feel like such an idiot.”

  The deep chuckle beside her got Buster’s tail going. “I’m sure you’re not the first.”

  “We’re going to an island?”

  “Yep. Port Aransas is a small tourist town. In the winter it’s mostly filled with old folks coming down from the north.”

  Tension eased as she realized the implications. They were going to a small town filled with gray hair, perms, and wrinkles. Who would look for a sophisticated city socialite, one who seemed to love the camera and parties, in a sleepy coastal town? Once she cut and dyed her hair, changed into sloppy clothes and put on some weight, she’d be unrecognizable.

  In the past her plans meant nothing as her father’s demands trumped them all. It was different now. She was in charge of her life. It may not be much, but it was hers.

  “We’ll soon be at the condo,” he said.

  “Great. I’m looking forward to that bed.” She hesitated. “I know it’s a bother, but could you drive me into the city tomorrow?”

  “What?” He frowned, eyebrows low. “Why?” The lights cast shadows which made him look exhausted. Likely he was, having driven so far in a couple of days.

  “You’ve been very kind, but your brother detests me. I’ll not come between you.”

  A flash of something lit his face for a moment, even so far as making his lip turn up. He looked away, shifting on the seat. He cleared his throat and spoke facing the window.

  “Riley’ll get over it. You surprised him, that’s all. He jumps up and down and swears, then it’s gone.” He cleared his throat again. “Mom has a swear jar. It costs a dollar for every syllable of a swear word. Five for a biggie. The money goes toward her dream vacation, which is a long cruise through the Mediterranean.”

  “Considering your brother’s language, you should get a Texas-size jar and make him pay.”

  He chuckled. “I’ll do that.”

  She wanted to get to know him better, to find out why he behaved as he did. She also wanted to discover what he could do for her as a man. But he was a good man, and didn’t deserve to be caught up in the net her father was no doubt already casting. She had a day or two, maybe three or four, to experience all she could.

  “Know anything about decorating?” His deep voice in the silence startled her.

  “Pardon?”

  He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel for a few seconds before answering.

  “We’re down here to renovate a couple of condos for some rich folks who live in Houston. They call it their beach house. The top floor is a one-bedroom unit, and the ground floor has two bedrooms. They want the upper unit to be a place their grown kids can relax in while they keep the grandkids downstairs.” He tilted his head at her. “Know anything about decorating?”

  Decorating her husband’s home was part of a wife’s job. That meant she was allowed to read magazines and watch DVDs about it. Dreaming about making her own home, one to suit herself and not the man she’d be obligated to marry, had consumed many of her idle hours. She nodded, unable to help smiling. His expression lightened.

  “Good. We can build things, but that’s girl stuff.”

  He shifted on the bench seat as if embarrassed. His discomfort eased her own. She inhaled, realizing she hadn’t stretched her lungs this way in some time. He had just insulted something dear to her heart.

  “Girl stuff?”

  He nodded sharply. “They already have the appliances and furniture picked out, but the owner wants stuff put on the walls and tables. She said she wanted ‘an exclusive beach house ambience’ for the upper unit.” He spoke in a high voice as if imitating the owner. “I asked Florrie, my older sister, if that meant we should put paintings of fish on the walls. She rolled her eyes and said to hire a decorator. So. You interested?”

  Was she interested in staying by the warm ocean, doing something useful and fun while she changed her appearance so her father couldn’t recognize her? She sat up straighter.

  “You’d trust me with something so important?”

  He grimaced, shaking his head. “It’s just picking out stuff, Jane.”

  She bristled at his dismissing tone. “It’s a lot more than that! You have to know the client’s vision, her color palette, and—” She shut her mouth when she noticed his smirk. “You obviously have no idea what’s involved.”

  “That’s why we need you. We’ve got a tight budget, but you’d be paid. You’ll have your own room and all the food you want if you’ll also cook and clean for us.”

  “I can do that.”

  “Then we have a deal.”

  The ferry’s motor roared as they approached land, reversing to slow their progress.

  “Your sister is correct,” she pointed out. “No fish paintings.”

  A moment later a man waved them forward. The road curved around and ended up at a gas station, where they turned right. Signs about RV parks, wildlife viewing places, and fishing-related stores flashed past.

  “The day after we left Montana a big storm hit. They’ll be shoveling snow while we swim in the ocean.” Travis turned to her with a grin. “You got a bathing suit in that backpack, Jane?”

  She gave him a look that asked if he was out of his mind. She barely had a change of clothes. With the promise of a place to live, and a job, she could replace them with something different. Something she chose. The prospect raised her spirits even more.

  “I don’t mind if you skinny-dip,” he added, his smile even wider.

  “I beg your pardon?” She replied in a chilly tone, though the thought heated her blood.

  “I’ll shuck my undershorts and we’ll both be nekkid.”

  She countered his eager grin with a frosty glare.

  “We will not be getting ‘nekkid,’ Mr. Adams.”

  “Now ain’t that a damn shame.” He gave an exaggerated sigh.

  She turned away, biting her lip to hold back a smile. She’d spent too much time with people who showed a carefully constructed façade to the world. He was a refreshing change. As for getting naked with him…The warm, wet feeling between her legs suggested the possibility might be fun. She was free of her father’s oppression. That meant she could do whatever she wanted. She could act silly, get angry, even throw things, and would not be beaten. Did she dare act impulsively?

  Yes! She needed to change who she was, to do things Penelope Elizabeth could never even contemplate. That included playing in the surf with a man who made her tingle from head to toe. It wasn’t just a sexual awareness, though she felt that pull. No, Travis challenged her, and made her feel alive.

  She felt as if bubbles filled her veins rather than blood cells. All giddy, and happy, and eager to play.

  They drove a couple of miles before Travis turned in, parking behind a set of light-colored two-story buildings.

  “Home, sweet home,” he said with a sigh.

  He opened his door. Buster scrambled out behind him. She grabbed her pack and descended, staggering for a moment. She was stiff, but there was a hot shower in her near future. She stepped forward as Buster returned. Travis led her into a small patio, closing the gate behind them. He slid open the screen door and motioned for her to step inside. Ahead was a big bed. To her right, an open door shone a trail of light.

  “To heck with sleep,” he said, grinning. “I’m going to stick my feet in the ocean. You up for it, Jane?”

  The bubbling feeling urged her to agree. From a practical perspective, she could use a leg stretch after being cramped in the truck.

  “I need a stop first. But
then I’ll go with you.”

  It turned out they’d walked into her bedroom, which meant she had a private exit from the condo. She would not be trapped, thank God. After a quick stop in her small but efficient bathroom she entered the main room. There was a kitchen and living area to her left, cluttered with boxes. A closed door to her right would be the second bedroom, the one the men would share. The one nasty Riley was sleeping in. She resisted the urge to kick the door as she passed. She didn’t want his company if he woke.

  There was enough light to see the path, so she and Travis followed Buster’s waving tail toward the sound of surf.

  “I can’t believe it’s the beginning of January,” she said.

  “That’s why we have to do this tonight. There’s a cold front on the way.”

  He gestured, and she went up a wooden walkway over the dunes. They stopped at the top. Moonlight danced along the wave tips, making them look like silver lace. She inhaled something spicy, perhaps the plants on the dunes below. At Travis’s suggestion they stripped off their boots and headed to the wide beach in bare feet.

  The fine sand was cool, a nice change from the tight boots she’d worn for far too long. She looked left and right. There was nothing but beach and ocean for miles in each direction. Far out in the Gulf she saw groups of lights, perhaps oil rigs. An amazing number of stars sparkled when she tilted her head back.

  Buster ran into the waves ankle deep. He leaned down to drink, then backpedaled. He gagged, shaking his head, then trotted over to them with his tongue hanging out. Travis’s deep laugh rolled over the sand as he patted the dog in commiseration.

  “Sorry, buddy, but that’s saltwater. Not like back home.” Travis looked at the water, then back to her. A determined grin formed on his face. “You up for a dunk in the ocean?”

  He dropped his hat on the sand and hauled his shirt over his head. It followed the hat. Muscles rippled across his wide chest as he moved. When his hands went for his wide belt buckle she turned her back, looking down the beach. He chuckled. When the shuffling sounds ended, she couldn’t help peeking. Dark boxers covered him from waist to upper thigh as he headed straight to the surf. Wide shoulders, narrow hips, and muscular thighs completed the picture.

  Oh, lord, he was perfect.

  He waded up to his knees, turned, and held out his hand. Those white teeth beckoned like the Big Bad Wolf. She shook her head.

  “You a wussy princess, or a woman?”

  Travis didn’t move. That tantalizing grin egged her on. She could choose to recoil from the discomfort of freedom, or step forward bravely and experience new things. She was on a Texas beach at three in the morning with a near-naked man encouraging and taunting her to show her true self. She would not be shown up by a Montana cowboy!

  Jane dumped Travis’s long shirt on top of his clothes. That left her in an emerald green thong and silk shell. He didn’t move his outstretched hand but his eyes scanned her body. That, as much as the chill, puckered her nipples.

  Her feet sifted through sand as soft as baking powder. The water was cold but she kept on going. She had something to prove, to herself most of all. A stroll in cold water was nothing compared to what she’d faced in the last two days. She was alive, and free, and was going to have fun even if she froze doing it!

  She kept a good distance between them as she waded out. The low waves rocked her back and forth. There wasn’t much slope, so it was easy to walk. She held her arms out for balance, keeping an eye on the man a few feet away.

  When the waves came to his thighs Travis dipped into the water to his waist. His boxers clung to his skin. The cold water did not seem to have reduced his erection. She’d been right about the size of it. Large, just like his hands. Her cheeks and ears were burning when she turned away.

  “Like what you see?” he murmured, a smile in his voice. Her pussy throbbed harder.

  “Oh, shush!”

  She braced herself and held her hands high, stopping when the tops of the rolling waves reached her waist. The cold made it hard to breathe. She moved with the waves, her bottom going forward and back as if she was keeping a hula-hoop going.

  Travis stayed near, but not close enough to grab her and knock her over. She noticed a big wave approaching. She turned sideways so it had less of a target to hit. Travis didn’t, and got a mouthful of saltwater when it splashed up his chest. He sputtered and wiped his mouth. His surprised expression was so much like Buster’s that she had to laugh.

  She was paying attention to the man and not the water. The next wave hit, knocking her over, and she went down. Shocked by the cold, she floundered. As soon as her mouth cleared the surface she gasped for air. A pair of arms grabbed her from behind. Travis immediately released her and stepped back when she found her feet.

  “Oh, that’s cold!” she said, turning to him as she brushed hair and water from her face. He stared at her chest. She looked down. The wet silk made it look as if she wore nothing but paint. The cold had firmed her breasts and made her nipples stand out. She crossed her arms to cover them.

  “Spoilsport,” he said, and winked.

  “I got all wet, so you have to,” she taunted.

  “Are you sure about that?” he asked ominously.

  “Get wet, Travis.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Jane caught his devilish grin just before he leaped.

  Chapter Eight

  Travis purposefully landed right in front of Jane, making a big splash. She shrieked, tried to run, and slipped. He didn’t expect her to come up laughing. It made him like her even more. She was a good sport, with a contagious laugh. She wiped water out of her eyes, then pulled her hair back with both hands. It thrust her chest forward.

  God, her breasts were perfect! She had a full set, each topped by a large cherry that he couldn’t wait to devour. He groaned. His cock strained against the wet cotton. Seeing Jane naked, and laughing, had him harder than a baseball bat. His cock felt damn near as big as one.

  He had to touch her, but not sexually. She’d made that loud and clear. Since he’d seen she was comfortable in the water, and she seemed to be into fun at the moment, he grasped her thigh and waist, lifted her as she shrieked, and gently tossed her. His fathers used to do the same thing when they were kids, only the fresh water in the Double Diamond’s hot spring was warm.

  She landed on her side, arms and legs flailing. He stood there laughing as she found her feet and rushed toward him. He figured she do something girly like punch him in the arm. But she hooked his ankle, shoved his chest, and he went ass over teakettle. The surprisingly cold water on his chest and back made him gasp, which led to swallowing seawater. When he managed to stand, still choking, she was trying to run away. She took exaggerated strides, arms waving in a vain effort to speed her progress.

  “Oh, no you don’t!” he roared.

  He wrapped his arm under her breasts and hauled her against his chest. She struggled, still laughing. He held her warm back snug against him until she stopped fighting. Both of them panted from the exertion. Her breasts rested on his arm. He’d twisted his body so she wouldn’t feel the raging erection demanding he skewer her.

  Buster ran back and forth on the beach, wanting to join the fun but not wishing to chance the saltwater again.

  “I should spank you for that,” he whispered into her ear.

  “Ha! Not in this lifetime!”

  It was a challenge, and he met it. He rolled his arm, turning her to face the beach. It separated her back and his chest. He placed his hand on her naked ass, his thumb near her crack. She went still.

  “Breathe, Jane.” He tapped her bottom lightly with his palm, hinting. She inhaled, ready to yell. “I would never harm you.”

  “Let me go, you brute!”

  Oh, he was so tempted. “You sure about that, sweetie?”

  “I demand you release me!”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  He let go and stepped back. She landed with a splash and came up gasping. He la
ughed, and discovered she could swear. Not that “you are a toad!” really counted. She was ticked off at him, but she wasn’t frightened, thank God. He never wanted her to be as scared as when she’d begged him for a ride.

  She waded to the beach, dripping indignation and salt water. He followed, slowly enough to give her time to cover herself. Instead of cowering, she hauled off her wet top. While facing him.

  He almost swallowed his tongue. She stood there like a water nymph, naked except for that dark thong around her hips. One string went between her legs, where he wished his mouth could go. Mouth to start, then fingers, and lips, and tongue, and a cock that would have exploded if he wasn’t ass-deep in freezing water.

  He was known for his control, but he had his limits. On a scale of one to ten, Jane was so off the chart that he couldn’t count that high.

  She dropped her wet top on his jeans, and bent over, facing away. She dangled her hair, combing her fingers through, and wiggled her ass. She then used his dry T-shirt as a towel. She wrapped her hair with it and stood, holding on with both hands.

  God, she was gorgeous. She arched her back, just enough to show off that pert ass, narrow waist, and wonderful breasts. He didn’t think she had a clue how attractive and arousing she was.

  She slid her arms into the long-sleeved shirt he’d given her earlier. He cursed its length as it covered her knees. She lifted the back to reveal her butt, the minx, and bent over to pick up her top. His cock jumped at the invitation. It was the most erotic “up yours” that he’d ever seen. She stomped across the beach, Buster dancing eagerly beside her. He realized she was getting away.

  “Whoa, don’t you walk away from me!”

  She curled her toes into the sand so it flipped up behind her with every step. Another insult. Grinning at her challenge, he ran from the water, grabbed his jeans and hat, and raced after her. She was partway along the boardwalk when he caught up.

  “You and I will be having words about what just happened,” he informed her.

  She pretended to ignore him, so he followed close behind until she stopped to get her boots and socks. She held his T-shirt on her hair with one hand and did the Playboy bunny waitress dip to keep it from falling off. That meant she was clumsy picking up her boots. He grabbed them before they could fall into the sand.