by Maisey Yates
She pointed toward the front door. They stood for a moment, staring at each other. Bennett’s jaw was locked, his expression stoic, and she had a feeling that for her part she looked like a rumpled creature with red cheeks and wild hair. But she didn’t care.
She didn’t need to look good for Bennett. Not anymore.
Bennett nodded once, then turned and walked out of her house, shutting the door firmly behind him.
She sat on the couch, her entire face cold, pinpricks dotting her skin. Bennett had called her out on her manipulations. They were real, and she couldn’t deny them. She had been using him. Using him because she had been convinced that he was the key to her happiness. Oh, with all of that she had also been convinced she loved him. But she couldn’t deny the other things.
It had just never occurred to her that he had been using her, too. Or worse, doing her father a favor.
Suddenly, she wanted to rage at everyone. Against the whole world. Against the dad that she loved so much, against the past year of her life, and every moment she had ever labored under the illusion that she might be heartbroken.
She wanted to do something dangerous.
And the most dangerous thing she could think of was Luke Hollister.
CHAPTER TWELVE
LUKE HAD JUST kicked off his boots, and was on his way to the fridge to grab a beer. It had been a long day of work at the ranch, and that short interval he’d spent with Olivia hadn’t really helped. The break hadn’t left him feeling relaxed, not in the least. Instead, it had put him square on edge, his toes pressed against the ledge of a cliff, a slight breeze likely to push him off.
Then he had gone back to Get Out of Dodge and had punished himself with physical labor until the sun had gone down. And then he had worked some after that, too. It was late, he was tired and he was cranky as hell.
But he was about to have some alcohol.
At least, that was the plan until he heard a knock on the door.
He looked around the spare cabin that he called home. He rented the place on a remote plot of land outside of Gold Valley, and rarely did anyone come to visit him. There was no reason to. He went out if he wanted to associate with people, or they had gatherings at the Dodge place, which was big and civilized and wasn’t slapped together with rough-hewn logs.
He didn’t spend all that much time at home. Just the evenings. He worked seven days a week at the ranch in some capacity, and if he ever did have a day off he usually spent the time outdoors anyway.
That meant he didn’t need much. Didn’t matter that he could have afforded more, it wasn’t necessary.
Still, it didn’t make his place the ideal location for house parties or, really, visitors of any kind, and he couldn’t imagine who had come out all this way to see him at eight o’clock at night.
Unless it was Bennett, looking to cave his face in. Which sounded about right.
His interactions with Wyatt had been strained today, too, but he knew that Wyatt wasn’t going to go getting himself involved, either. He had thought initially that he might, but if he hadn’t at this point, he wasn’t going to.
Bennett, though—he might be out looking for a fight.
But Luke could still feel the way Olivia’s lips had felt pressed against his, the way she had sighed with pleasure as he had curved his hand around to cup her head and take the kiss deeper.
Yeah, if he was about to get punched in the face, he could honestly say that it was worth it.
So the hell with it.
He jerked the door open, ready to dodge a blow if need be, and was shocked to see Olivia standing there, looking nearly drowned by the downpour that was happening outside. Her dark hair hung in heavy chunks down past her shoulders, her arms wrapped around her slender body, a sweater the only thing she had to shield her from the elements.
He looked her over. “You’d better come in.”
She nodded jerkily and traipsed in the door, still holding on to her elbows.
“What are you doing here, kiddo?”
She didn’t say anything. Instead, she treated him to an expression he imagined was supposed to be fearsome, her brows drawing together, her lips pulled down into a frown.
“I see,” he said.
He turned away from her, moving to the old freestanding cabinet that was in the living room area. A rickety piece of furniture that had been there when he moved in. He figured it was for China plates or some other fancy bullshit. He used it for alcohol.
He opened up the cabinet and regarded it for a moment, then took out a bottle of whiskey that Quinn Dodge had given him for Christmas a few years ago. It was good stuff. Not the kind of thing he indulged in on a nightly basis. But Olivia looked like she was in a Serious Whiskey Space.
He took two glasses down and poured a small amount of the amber liquid into them. He didn’t wait for her to protest or to confirm that she wanted any. He grabbed hold of the top of the glass and held it out to her.
She took hold of it with both hands, clutching it tightly, as though it might offer her some security. Which, fair enough. He found alcohol offered him a fair measure of security at any given point in time. And confidence. It was good for that, too.
She wordlessly lifted the glass to her lips and took a sip. She grimaced, opening her mouth and sticking her tongue out, making a distressed sound. “It’s like drinking a campfire.”
“Now that you mention it, it kind of is. But I consider that part of its charm.”
“No, thank you,” she said crisply, handing the glass back to him.
He chuckled, but took it from her and set it back down on the cabinet. “Okay. So you didn’t come here to have a drink with me. What exactly are you here for?”
She looked up at him, her expression so helpless it might have been funny if it didn’t reach down inside of him, grab hold of his heart and pull hard. Luke Hollister was no sucker, and he wasn’t a softy, either. But there was something about Olivia. Olivia and this strange vulnerability that he could see in her eyes. Olivia, who was usually about as vulnerable as a cactus.
Her expression was expectant, as though she was hoping he might hazard a guess, so that she wouldn’t have to say what was on her mind.
He could start trying to guess, but he didn’t want to give her any outs. Didn’t want to offer an option that seemed more palatable to whatever she was here for. And he didn’t want to say anything so shocking it might scare her off.
Plus, Olivia could do with some personal responsibility. With some consequences for her actions.
That was why he had said if she wanted to be touched she was going to have to ask.
He wasn’t going to play the part of aggressor and allow her to be the helpless maiden. While it was a fine thing in terms of role-play, it was also a great way for her to pretend that he was the brute, and she had no stake in any of what had happened between them.
No. He wasn’t giving her that kind of relief.
Maybe that was moot. Maybe she had another flat tire. Maybe that was all she needed him for. Maybe, she just wanted to talk about her feelings. But that look in her eyes, that wild, helpless look, made him think it was something a lot deeper than that.
And he would be damned if he gave her any excuse later to do anything but own it.
“Something happened,” she said, beginning to pace, water dripping from her hair.
“Why are you so wet?”
She turned to him. “Oh. I stood outside in the rain about five minutes before I knocked on your door.” She said this as though it was completely normal.
“Why?”
“Because I was considering running into the woods. Starting my life over as a squirrel.”
“I don’t recommend that,” he said, keeping his voice grave.
“Squirrels seem happy,” she said. “Their life seems simple.”
“Indecisive squirrels often end up as roadkill. Remember that.”
“Bennett asked to get back together,” she said.
His stomach constricted, his skin suddenly feeling tight. That was why she had come. To tell him that whatever was going on between them—which wasn’t really anything, since it was just a show they were putting on for Bennett’s benefit—was over.
“Well,” he said, “congratulations.”
“I didn’t...”
“I might skip the wedding. But I can send you a toaster. Assuming you need a toaster.”
She made a short, frustrated sound, bouncing up and down with frustrated energy. And then she took one stride forward, reaching up and grabbing hold of his face, pulling him down so that he was a scant half inch from her mouth. “I told him to take a hike,” she said, her brown eyes fixed on his.
He could smell her. That scent that was woman and rain, vanilla and Olivia. And he wanted to inhale her. Indulge himself. With every inch of her beautiful body.
But instead, he simply stayed like he was, the tips of their noses nearly touching, her eyes glittering.
“You did?”
“Yes,” she said, her tone intense.
“Why the hell did you do that? You want him. That’s what you told me. That you want to be with him. You had your chance. Why the hell didn’t you take it?”
“He dated me because my dad told him to,” she said, her expression turning furious, mutinous. And she was still holding on to his face. Her fingernails were digging into his temples, and he didn’t even care. “Do you have any idea how humiliating that is? He never cared about me. Ever. He cared about the idea of us. And it’s all...it’s all about keeping me safe, and keeping me living this...this life that I’m supposed to live and I don’t know if I want to live that life anymore.”
Her voice was trembling with rage. He wasn’t sure he had ever seen her so upset, and considering that he had in the past made a near living out of annoying Olivia, that was saying something.
“I’m not charity,” she said. “And I’m not a hen. I don’t need to be protected, I don’t need to be coddled. I need... I need something else.”
In spite of himself, he lifted his hand, cupped her chin gently and tilted her face up just a little more, bringing her lips a bit closer to his own. He could feel her breath, warm and unsteady, and he wanted to drink it in.
“Sadly, kiddo, I would say you are a hen. And you walked into the fox’s house.”
She shivered, from cold or something else he didn’t know. “Fine. Maybe I am. But I came here on purpose.” A spark lit deep in those brown eyes, turning them a whiskey gold, like the drink she had rejected earlier. Twice as likely to get him drunk, too, that was sure.
“What exactly are you saying? Just say it. And don’t expect me to make it easy for you.”
“You haven’t made anything easy for me. Not from the first day I met you. I wouldn’t expect you to start now.” She tilted her face up just a fraction, and now their lips were so close a breeze could barely pass through them.
“Fair enough. Since you’ve made things very, very hard for me.” He wasn’t sure if she got the double entendre in that, but he’d meant it. Since she had shown up at the door he had been hard. Painfully so.
Restraint. Teasing. He didn’t go in for all that, and that was all he’d had with Olivia over the past weeks.
“I’m tired of being good,” she said. “It hasn’t gotten me anything.”
“Did you come here to be bad? Because you already failed at step one. You rejected the alcohol. That’s not taking to peer pressure very well.”
“I’m not here for a drink.”
The hold on his face softened, and she dragged her fingertips down his cheeks, along his jaw, pressing both her thumbs against his lower lip, and then tracing it in opposite directions.
“You have to say it, Liv,” he said, the words hoarse, broken.
“I want you,” she said, her voice almost a whisper.
“Not just kissing,” he said. “Let’s make that very clear.”
She shook her head. “No. Not just kissing.”
“This is because you’re mad at Bennett?” He asked himself, very seriously, at least for a moment, if that was a problem. It burned in his gut, like he’d been stabbed with a red-hot poker, but his desire for Olivia burned a hell of a lot hotter. And it was going to win.
Pride be damned.
This woman was under his skin in a way no other woman had ever been. He couldn’t wait. And he sure as hell couldn’t live in a world where he would never know how soft her skin was all over. Where he never had a chance to see what she looked like uncovered. What color her nipples were. What she would taste like between her thighs when she was wet with her desire for him.
He could deal with being a revenge lay. But not having Olivia?
He didn’t think he could live with that.
“It wasn’t worth it,” she said. “He wasn’t worth it.”
It was admittance enough of her anger. Of the fact that she was reacting to the confrontation with him. But he didn’t care. He really, really didn’t care.
“I’m going to tell you something,” he said, tightening his hold on her chin. “I’m not worth it, either. But I’m going to make tonight worth it. I’m going to make damn sure that this, this revenge that you’re taking, makes it all worth it. That months from now, years from now, you’re going to be lying in bed at night, and you’re going to think of this. You’re going to think of me. I’m not worth it. But the sex sure as hell will be.”
She gasped, but he swallowed it, pulling her face toward his and claiming her mouth. He kissed her deep, he kissed her hard, he kissed her knowing that this wasn’t going to end in frustration and a hard cock.
No, tonight he was going to end up inside of her.
That thought tested the limits of his control, made him feel at the end of it already, when all they were doing was kissing. When she still had her hands on his face, and he had one hand on her chin. They hadn’t even begun to explore each other’s bodies. Everybody was fully dressed.
It was already the hottest damned encounter of his life.
“You’re cold,” he said, when she shivered against him. “Let me warm you up.”
He didn’t wait for her to ask how, didn’t wait for her to say anything. He gripped the wet hem of her sweater and pulled it up over her head, leaving her standing there in a lacy bra that showed off small, perky tits that just about brought him to his knees.
Her cheeks turned pink, that beautiful flush spreading all the way down to the shadow between her breasts. She wrapped her arms around herself, like she had done when she had first come in to see him. He grabbed hold of her wrist, drawing her arm back down. “No,” he said. “I get to see you.”
Her eyes widened, but she put her hands down at her sides, curling them into fists, looking like it was taking every bit of her strength to stay rooted to the spot, rather than scurrying under a piece of furniture.
He could tell that it was an effort for her to stand there like that, underneath his gaze. He liked that. Couldn’t say why. Except that he affected her. In a way that shocked her, he must, otherwise it would be no big deal for her to whip her top off in front of him and let him see her bra.
Whatever Bennett had made her feel, he made her feel something else. Or maybe it was just the fact that she felt it with him that she found off-putting. But he would take it. He would take being different.
He would take it and go from there. Because by the time he was done with her, she was going to be screaming his name and never remember if she had cried out anyone else’s.
He reached out, put both hands on her shoulders and then slid them down her arms, taking her hands in his, squeezing them. Her eyes met his, and they were suspiciously bright, but he ignored that. Because he wanted to
focus on that deep, taut ache in his groin, and not the tightness in his chest.
Then he pulled her to him, bringing her heart against his chest, relishing the feel of all that skin pressed against him, her bare back beneath his hands. And he still had his clothes on. She still had her bra on.
He had to get a grip. Or he was going to lose it in about thirty seconds flat and not be able to make good on that promise to make this memorable. Well, it would be memorable, but not in the way that he had meant it.
Of course, in that case, he could spread her out on his floor and make a feast of her until he was hard again.
That thought did nothing to help him rein in his libido. Not at all.
He kissed her. Kissed her like it was going to save them both, even though odds were it would only ruin them. Kissed her because he wanted to. And she wanted him.
Olivia Logan. She was going to be his. His finally. He was done pretending that he hadn’t wanted it since she was eighteen years old. Since it was legal, but messed up enough to make him lose every friend and associate in good standing in the town of Gold Valley.
He had wanted her. And he had resisted.
He told himself he wasn’t good with resistance, but he had resisted her for the past seven years. Because she was better than him, and then had belonged to a better man than him.
But tonight he didn’t want to be a better man; he just wanted to be the man she was with. Tonight, he was going to bring her down to his level, get that halo a little dirty, and maybe she would regret it later. It was entirely possible what he’d said about not being worth it was true. Not for a long-term investment.
But he’d make it good. He’d make it good for both of them. Make it worth that wait.
That long, impossible wait that he had reached the end of. He didn’t have restraint anymore. Didn’t have anything left in him but his desire for her. But the fire in his veins that was about to spark a blaze hot enough to burn them both to the ground.
He lifted one hand from her lower back, brought it around and undid the button on her jeans. Then, he slowly drew the zipper down, sliding his hands back around to grab hold of her bare ass beneath the fabric of her jeans and her panties, then he drew her up hard against him, kissing her as he pressed his hips against hers, letting her feel how hard he was. How much he wanted her.