His Untamed Love (Cuffs and Spurs Book 4)

by Anya Summers

  “Again,” Cole ordered.

  And she did it over and over until he seemed satisfied with her progress.

  “Good. Now let’s get some bait on your line and you can cast for real this time.”

  She glanced down at the cooler chock full of creepy crawlies. Cole’s deep chuckle whispered down her spine like a caress.

  “Come on, city girl, I know you can do this.”

  She sat down in her seat and Cole lifted the lid back up. She grimaced as she peered inside.

  “So how do I do this?” she asked.

  “Best approach, just reach in fast and grab one. Now, they can be slippery little suckers and will try to get away. So be prepared,” Cole said, kneeling down beside her, his forearms resting on his powerful thighs.

  She gingerly reached inside. One of them jumped against her palm and she jerked her hand back. Cole barked a laugh.

  “They’re just crickets, city girl. They aren’t going to harm you.”

  “I know. I just wasn’t expecting them to jump at me.” Resolved, she watched one of the bigger ones that seemed a tad bit slower than the others and positioned her hand above the thing. Then, holding her breath, she reached in and snatched it. It wriggled and fought to be free but she held on.

  “That’s it. Now, pierce the center of its body with the hook,” he said.

  Mia felt her gorge rise and she was so glad she couldn’t see her face right now. She pushed the hook through the wiggling little body, then said, “Ew, that’s so damn gross. And people enjoy doing this? Ugh.”

  “Some people. Okay, now I want you to cast your line out just like I taught you,” Cole said. “For now, do it standing until you get the hang of it.”

  Mia did as he suggested and successfully cast her fishing line.

  “Now what?” she asked.

  “Have a seat and wait for something to bite.” Cole shrugged, then lowered himself into the middle chair and picked up his rod.

  “How will I know if something bites?” she asked.

  “You’ll feel the tug on the line. Trust me, you won’t miss it,” he said.

  In the time that it had taken Cole to show her how to use the fishing rod, day had broken. The bright, glowing golden orb of the sun had crested the mountains, illuminating the stream and fields around them. It was breathtaking watching the world, nature, wake. Birds fluttered and chattered nearby. In the stillness as they sat, not talking, amidst the bubbling currents, she could discern squirrels chittering. A great horned owl hooted, sending rodents in the underbrush and tall grass scurrying for cover.

  Mia wasn’t comfortable in her seat. It had little to do with the nature surrounding them and everything to do with the man companionably sitting beside her. He was at ease, confident, and in his element. Whereas she, no pun intended, felt like a fish out of water. She could see why people liked fishing, per se. It was, other than the icky part of putting the bait on, relaxing.

  If it weren’t for the enigmatic man at her side, she would feel at peace, which was shocking. Mia wasn’t a nature girl. Not one bit. However, nature was soothing her in a way that all her massage appointments, meditation classes, and anxiety medications never had. Wasn’t that just the oddest thing?

  Chapter 7

  Cole was inherently aware of Mia at his side.

  Hard not to be.

  She’d done better than he had initially guessed she would. He doubted she would ever love fishing or be an expert angler, but she was sticking it out. And her expression at the bait had been priceless. She’d been thoroughly disgusted by the act, had looked like she wanted to puke, but she’d forged ahead and gotten the job done.

  That showed guts and gumption on her part. And it made him think that perhaps his initial assessment of her—that she was a flighty city girl who wouldn’t last a week at the lodge—needed to be reassessed.

  Cole keep the chatter to a minimum, showing her at intervals how to check her line, reel it back in, and put new bait on the hook when it came up empty.

  “And here I thought you said I would feel it when I had a bite.”

  “Fish are smarter than people give them credit for. Probably nibbled all around the hook and pulled the bait free. Happens more often than not, which is why you have to stay vigilant,” he said.

  “I have been, for the most part. It kind of puts you into a trance. Which isn’t bad, it can just get a little…”

  “Boring?” Cole supplied with a knowing smirk.

  She shook her head. “No. Silent.”

  “A lot of people consider it peaceful.”

  “It is but it’s not. Because then it leaves you time to think,” she said with a resigned sigh, her soft, sweet voice causing Cole to wonder how she sounded during sex. Her breathy little sigh made everything in him tighten.

  He shifted in his seat, hiding his wince and hopefully his unexpected hard on from view. “And that’s a bad thing? I’ve done some of my best thinking on a fishing trip. Being out here with nothing but your wits about you, immersed in nature is, in my opinion, some of the best medicine for a body. Why do you think so many people take vacations to places outdoors to recharge? Humans are not meant to live indoors and separate from nature.”

  “Even when it doesn’t agree with you?” Mia asked so solemnly he had the urge to soothe her. And to thread his fingers through the wisps of her hair escaping the bun on top of her head. She reminded him of a schoolteacher. One he wanted to muss up and see the end results.

  “Nature is a demanding mistress. There’s plenty out here that can go wrong. And not everyone can hack it anymore. Personally, I think if more people got back to nature there’d be a lot more respect for it. People would be less likely to destroy it. But that’s just me.”

  “Did you know that the practice of catching fish or fishing dates back a good forty thousand years, to pre-historic times?”

  Cole smiled. Leave it to her to have studied the origins of fishing. He replied, “No I didn’t, but I’m not surprised.”

  “So who taught you how to fish?” Mia asked.

  “My dad. Taught me and Mason. Some of my fondest memories of him, with him, were when he brought the two of us out here to fish.”

  “Wait, you lived here with your parents? But I thought the resort has only been open about ten years,” she said, and there was a wistful yearning in her voice that made his gut clench.

  “The resort, yes. The land that the resort sits on, my parents bought when they were newlyweds, about a year before I came along. They built the farmhouse where I live—for a little while longer, anyhow—and raised us here. I know the trails, the valleys, the stream and lake like most people know the town square.”

  “You have lived here your whole life? I find that fascinating,” Mia said, not hiding her awe. It made him curious about her.

  “Why’s that?” he asked, checking his line and watching hers in the stream, trying to downplay that he wanted to know more about her.

  “Well, most people, according to the US census, tend to move roughly eleven to twelve times in their lifetime. So it’s pretty unique and unusual.”

  “You study the census? And how many times have you moved?” Cole asked. He was fascinated by her brain, of all things. What type of person researched the census?

  “I’ve been in my apartment for three years now. But have lived in five other homes. Granted, all of them have been in the Chicago area.”

  Cole whistled. Chicago. No wonder he could practically smell the city on her when she first arrived. He could envision her amidst the stone and steel, but somehow that didn’t feel right for her. “And you like your apartment?”

  “Um, for the most part. It’s in a high rise downtown and looks out over Lake Michigan.”

  “And you live there with your family?” he asked. A sadistic part of him wanted to torture himself with visions of her with a guy and few kids around her.

  Some of her smile diminished and the haunted look returned to her eyes. “No. Just by myself.�
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  He could have kicked himself for the question, for bringing the sorrow back into her gaze. Although he had his answer: she was single. Although why that mattered, he wasn’t sure, she was off-limits to him. He didn’t date or have sex with guests. He wanted to bring back some of the joy that had seeped from her visage, because he could tell there was a wound when it came to family and he didn’t want to pick at it, even as the Dom in him wanted to help draw the hurt out so that the haunted look would vanish for good.

  Except that would be crossing boundaries he wouldn’t, couldn’t, cross. Not with a guest of the resort.

  “Reel in your line. We’ll take a break and have some lunch,” he commanded, but kept his voice soft and calm, not wanting to give away his inner turmoil.

  Once the lines were stowed, he opened a second cooler that held their boxed lunches. He handed Mia her lunch and the tips of her fingers grazed his. The innocuous touch lasered through him like a lightning rod. His shaft twitched. And it took everything inside him not to haul her into his arms.

  He focused on the lunch in his hands, pulling out the sandwich piled high with fixings. Mia seemed to enjoy the meal. For such a small thing, she plowed through the sandwich with gusto. Although often he found being out on the water made people hungrier. They ate lunch companionably.

  “Whoever your chef is, they are fabulous,” she said around a bite of sandwich.

  “Emily is, and she’s my future sister-in-law.”

  “Really? How did that come about?” she asked, taking a swig of water.

  “Emily accepted the position some months back. She and Mason took one look at each other and that was it for the both of them. They’re getting married in June.”

  “That quickly?”

  He shrugged. “When you know it’s right, why wait?”

  “I never thought of it like that.” Emily became pensive, her brow furrowed as she finished her meal.

  After lunch, they recast their lines and settled into a companionable silence. He kept his gaze on the water, but he was fully, one hundred percent aware of Mia. So he noticed when she began squirming in her seat. When he observed her checking her watch for the tenth time, he broke his silence.

  “Something wrong?”

  She glanced at him, rosy color flushing her face, and said, “I kinda need to pee. And, well…”

  He smirked. “Well, out here, you just drop trow and hang your cute behind over the edge.”

  She sputtered, “I can’t do that. You’ll see. Wouldn’t it be easier to go back to the shed thingy with the restroom?”

  “Mia, people do it all the time out here. I won’t look. Scout’s honor,” he promised, crossing his heart with his hands. He didn’t mention that it would be damned hard to know her pretty behind was bare and just feet away from him.

  “But you’ll hear me,” she said, and he could infer by the jutted angle of her chin that she wasn’t going to budge on this point. Suffice it to say, he couldn’t let her be in that much discomfort. She’d been wriggling in her seat for the better part of an hour now.

  “All right, let’s compromise. I’ll pee off the stern while you do the same near the bow where you’re at, at the same time. That way, we’ll drown out the sound of the other,” he said, trying to comfort her as best he could. The woman was already like a spooked mare half the time.

  Mia’s brows were drawn in concentration. Then she finally nodded her head and said, “Okay. Let’s do it.”

  “Fine. But no peeking, city girl,” he said teasingly with a wink, trying to lighten the mood a bit. His reply drew a fledgling smile from her.

  Mia rose from her seat, removed her coat and started lowering her waders. He was glad that he could put her somewhat at ease and, if truth be told, he’d been feeling the pinch in his bladder too. So it was a win win for them both. With an ease born of years spent out on the lake and familiarity with this particular boat, he walked to the stern. Once he got there, Cole moved in an unhurried fashion. Mia basically had to strip down and bare her entire ass. It wasn’t lost on him that they were both dropping their pants. She more than he. And the thought of seeing her bare bottom sent a wave of lust ricocheting through his body to pool in his groin and caused his dick to twitch.

  Last damn thing he needed was a hard-on. Again.

  As odd as it was that this little city girl seemed to stoke his internal fires, she was off-limits. One of the cardinal rules both he and Mason had established from the beginning was that they didn’t dally with the guests. Not that there hadn’t been a time or two when each of them hadn’t bent the rules.

  However, those had been rather vanilla experiences and while he’d enjoyed himself, it had been nothing more than a simple hook-up. Mia, on the other hand, had permanence written all over her cute behind. And from the way she reacted to things, he could assume that she was about as vanilla as they came in the bedroom.

  That wasn’t Cole. From the moment he’d discovered the world of BDSM, he’d known he could never be vanilla again. It wasn’t for everyone. But for him, the art of restraining a willing submissive, pushing her past her limits into sub space before he lost himself in her slick heat, fulfilled him down to his core.

  No matter what, the city girl wasn’t for him. Granted, he wished someone would tell his dick that. It seemed not to want to listen to why Mia was off-limits, and would prefer he positioned her on her knees on one of the seats, restrained her wrists, and proceeded to fuck her for the rest of the afternoon.

  With a shake of his head, he winced, hoping his untimely erection would be masked enough by the waders and would not frighten Mia as he tugged at his jeans. He’d just finished zipping himself back up when she issued a piercing screech. The sound shattered the peaceful stillness. But her scream was cut off, followed by a loud splash.

  The boat rocked as he swiveled on his heel and spied the empty bow.

  Fuck! Mia! She had fallen overboard.

  Shit!

  Cole raced to where she’d been and looked over the hull. Her body was completely submerged beneath the icy water. Her arms flailed as she struggled to surface. Cole didn’t think twice; he tossed his Stetson on the seat behind him and dove over the side.

  The water hit him like a thousand knives stabbing him, it was so cold. It compressed his lungs and he knew he had to get them both out of the stream fast. He ran his hands over her body, trying to find why she couldn’t break through the surface. He discovered the problem quickly enough. Her foot had gotten tangled between two logs and the waders were taking on water, pulling her down.

  Cole shifted one of the logs and pulled her foot free, then slid an arm around her waist, kicking them both back above the surface. He inhaled a deep breath.

  “I’ve got you,” he said, keeping his arm around her. Mia sputtered and gasped, gulping air into her lungs. But she was breathing. That was the important thing.

  Cole guided her back over to the boat, then hoisted her slight body over the hull. Once she was on board, he hauled himself in beside her and knelt down. She was curled on her side, coughing up water. Her complexion was paler than usual. Once her coughing subsided and he was certain she’d expelled all the water she’d inhaled, he gently assisted her into a sitting position.

  Her eyes were closed, creating dark half-moons on her pale cheeks. Her lips were open slightly, her breathing ragged. The pulse in her neck fluttered wildly and he ran a comforting hand over her back. What he wanted to do, what the Dom in him demanded he do, was pull her into his lap and cradle her until her fright had ended. But he couldn’t do that, not with her, not here.

  “What happened?” he asked, his voice rougher than he’d intended.

  Mia bowed her head, but not before he spied the twin streams of moisture leaking from her closed eyes. “When I went to pull my jeans back up they must have gotten caught on something on the boat. So I yanked them free and lost my balance in the process. And the rest, you could say, is history.” By the time she’d finished her explanation, her
teeth were chattering and her pink lips were turning blue.

  Not good. He had to get her off the water, out of those wet clothes, and warm.

  “All right, city girl. It’s not a big deal, but I think our day on the water is at an end. Let’s get you back to your cabin and get you warmed up, okay?” Cole murmured, trying to be gentle with her. Mia was so damn fragile. He wanted to scold her for thinking about fishing out on the lake, even though it wasn’t his call.

  At her nod, he moved around the boat and got them ready to depart. She would get sick if he didn’t get them back swiftly. Luckily, he’d had the foresight to bring a blanket with them. Before he started rowing, he wrapped the gray flannel around her shoulders. She was visibly trembling from the cold. Her delicate fingers, when they brushed his, were like ice.

  He wondered if she would balk when they arrived at the boat shed. Because she would be stripping out of her wet things the moment they arrived.

  Chapter 8

  Hell wasn’t hot, Mia decided. It was cold.

  Cole rowed the small boat back across the lake like he was training for the Olympic team. The earlier peace and calm that had risen inside Mia when he had first taken them out that morning evaporated like the morning mist. She couldn’t ever remember being this cold. And she lived in Chicago, dubbed the Windy City, and had lived through her fair share of walloping snowstorms. Granted, she’d typically watched them from the warmth of her apartment.

  Cole had to be freezing too. Not that he showed it one bit. The man didn’t miss a beat. He’d plunged into the murky abyss after her without hesitation and had saved her from an ignoble, clumsy demise.

  In no time, he had pulled the boat up alongside the dock. Once the craft was secured, he moved, prowling toward her. Mia couldn’t read his intent but he scooped her up into his arms. Then he climbed out of the boat, with her in tow, and strode to the shed.

  As much as she wanted to protest being carried around like a sack of grain, the warmth emanating off the brick wall of his chest lured her. So much so that she wanted to curl into him and soak up every ounce of heat he could bestow upon her.