Bound, Branded, & Brazen

by Burton, Jaci

  They rode for about forty-five minutes and Brea was pleased that she wasn’t sore from the ride, even if she hadn’t been on a horse in a long time. But she was in shape and she exercised regularly, so maybe that accounted for her ability to climb aboard and acclimate again so quickly.

  She remembered this part of the ranch, though she hadn’t traveled this way for years. They arrived at the pond where her dad used to take them to fish. There was a small cabin just up the bank from the pond. It was just a one-room shack, really, but Brea recalled it had a fireplace and a bed and a sofa.

  Gage stopped, got off his horse and came around to hers.

  “I do know how to dismount, you know,” she said, looking down at him.

  He gave her one those now-familiar half smiles she found incredibly disarming. “It’s more fun this way.” He held his arms out and she slid into them, letting him draw her to the ground. He held on to her for a few seconds, his fingers burning into the skin of her waist, before he stepped back and tethered the horses to a tree near the water.

  He retrieved a blanket from the saddlebag, then pulled out a sack containing . . . something.

  “Come on over here,” he said.

  She thought they’d go inside, but she walked down the bank and saw him spreading the blanket out on the hill.

  “What are you doing?”

  He took a six-pack and a bag of chips out of the bag.

  “It’s warm tonight. Thought we’d stretch out on the blanket, look at the stars and have a snack.”

  She skirted her gaze to the chips and beer. “That’s the snack?”

  “Yeah.”

  She laughed, then sat on the blanket.

  Gage stretched out on the blanket, popped open two cans of beer and handed one to her. He laid the bag of chips between them.

  This had to be the strangest date she’d ever been on. No, strange wasn’t even the right word for it. Unique was the appropriate word choice.

  “I like coming out here because the stars feel like they’re bearing right down on you,” Gage said, tilting his head back and looking up at the sky.

  “You come out here often?”

  “Yeah. Usually in the summer, on the weekends. I’ll stay in the cabin overnight, get an early start on fishing.”

  Brea smiled. “My dad used to bring us girls out here when we were little. He taught us to fish in that pond.”

  Gage turned his gaze to her. “Is that right?”

  “Yes.” She sipped her beer. “I remember countless mornings Dad dragged us out of bed before dawn, fishing poles and tackle already loaded in the back of the pickup. We’d spend hours out here watching the sun come up. Dad said it was how we learned patience.”

  Gage laughed. “It’s a good way to teach kids to be still.”

  She nodded. “He didn’t much appreciate us jabbering away and scaring the fish. And teaching three impatient, wiggly, talkative little girls to shut up and be still was no easy feat.”

  “Your dad sounds like he was a great man.”

  “He was.”

  “What about your mom?”

  She grinned. “She’d pack up scrambled egg sandwiches to take along for breakfast, and cold fried chicken for lunch, but wouldn’t come with us. She said it was our time with our father. I think she said that so she could have half a day of peace and quiet to read.”

  “So you got your love of reading from your mama?”

  “I guess so. She was always busy doing something around the ranch. But whenever she managed to sit down she always had a book in her hand.”

  “Must have been hard to lose them both.”

  She stared out across the water, the memories of her parents still sweet, still painful. “It devastated us. It left a gaping hole in all three of us. Especially Valerie, who had to suddenly become mother to us all while she was barely a teenager.”

  “Your uncle, I assume, was no great shakes as a parent.”

  She snorted and grabbed a handful of chips. “He was legally our guardian, but he didn’t know the first thing about raising children. The man didn’t have a warm bone in his entire body.”

  “Yeah, I got that impression having worked for him. Must have been hard on all of you.”

  “We had Lila, and she was full of love and hugs. But it wasn’t the same. No one can replace your mother.”

  She munched on chips and wished she hadn’t revealed so much. It made her heart hurt to relive the anguish of losing her parents. And now she’d laid a melancholy downer on her time with Gage. Great. Just great.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, wrapping her fingers around the can of beer.

  He reached over and cupped her neck, drawing her attention to his face. “Sorry for what?”

  “For dragging sadness and death and such a depressing conversation into our night together.”

  “Hey, I’m the one who brought the topic up. If I didn’t want to know how you felt about it all, I wouldn’t have asked.”

  “Still, I could have just been vague.”

  “Why? I’m here with you because I want to know about you. I want to know how you feel, who you are. And that means where you came from, what events shaped you.”

  Who was this guy? Cowboys weren’t . . . deep. Not the ones she’d always known, anyway. Even the city guys she’d dated couldn’t care less about who she was or where she’d come from.

  It was clear Gage was some kind of alien life form and not a regular guy.

  “So now it’s your turn. Tell me about yourself.”

  “Not much to tell, really. I was born in Denver, raised there.”

  She cocked her head to the side. “A city boy?”

  He nodded. “Yup. A city boy.”

  “I wouldn’t have imagined it. So where did your love of horses come from?”

  “I had a friend who had a ranch, and I spent summers there starting when I was twelve. It was either that or trips to Europe with my parents, and I wasn’t interested.”

  Her jaw went slack. “Your parents went to Europe every summer?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You must come from a wealthy family.”

  “You could say that.”

  She realized she didn’t know Gage at all, and what she thought she knew about him was dead wrong. “So you stayed with your friend on the ranch instead of summering with your parents? Why?”

  He shrugged. “I liked the horses there, liked working with them. Gave me a chance to do something physical that meant something, rather than loafing and skiing. I’m not much of a skier.”

  “Bet that’s blasphemy to those who come from Colorado.”

  He laughed. “Yeah, my family wasn’t too happy that I didn’t take to skiing. Or their jet-setting lifestyle.”

  “So how did you end up here?”

  “After a couple years in college I realized that the family business just wasn’t for me. I dropped out and got a job on a ranch. Been working with horses ever since.”

  “And your family?”

  His smile disappeared. “My father died about five years ago.”

  She laid her hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry, Gage.”

  “I wasn’t very close to him. My mom remarried a couple years ago.”

  “I see. Did you go to the wedding?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because that family really isn’t my family anymore. I never really belonged there.”

  “How can you say that? It’s your mother.”

  “True, but I had a younger brother, too, and he’s everything . . . I’m not. He’s a great skier, went to college, continued on the family business.”

  “So? I’m sure they don’t love you any less because you chose a different path.”

  He snorted. “You don’t know my family.”

  She squeezed his arm. “You can’t mean that.”

  “Hey, I’m fine with it. I chose who and what I wanted to be, and they disagreed with my choice. I’m free of all their expectations
now.”

  Brea sighed, wondering how it felt to have that kind of pressure on you to be someone you knew in your heart you couldn’t be. It made her feel very lucky that she had her sisters. They might fight and argue, and she might have left, but she knew she could always come home, that no matter what separated them, they would always love one another.

  “Family should love you no matter what,” she said.

  “That’s the way it’s supposed to work. In some families it doesn’t. And when it doesn’t, you’re better off without.”

  “I’m sorry for that, Gage.”

  He smoothed his hand over her hair. “Don’t be sorry for me. I like my life. I’m free to go where I want, do what I want and be whoever I want to be. No one has any expectations of me and I like it like that.”

  She stared at him, and it finally dawned on her why he’d said he was unable to commit to a relationship. And that’s why he drifted from place to place—because he didn’t want anyone to tie him down like his family had tried to do. Now she understood and she admired even more his ability to be his own man.

  “What?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing. You’re just . . . different.”

  His lips curled. “Is that a bad thing?”

  “No. Trust me, it’s not a bad thing.”

  “Good. Then come lay down next to me and look at the stars.”

  She situated herself on her back next to him and stared at the clear night sky. “I haven’t done this since I was a kid.”

  “You should do it more often.”

  She probably should. She’d forgotten how awe-inspiring the night sky was, especially out here in the country where no city lights dimmed the darkness and the awesome cosmos could shine down on them in all its glory. Gage was right. She hadn’t appreciated this as a child. Whenever she looked up in the city, street and building lights masked the stars. Out here, nothing did. She lifted her arm and traced the Big and Little Dipper with her fingertip, then scanned the constellations to locate her favorite star systems.

  She was so lost in stargazing that it was awhile before she realized Gage had stopped speaking. She turned her head and found him on his side, his head propped in his hand, staring at her.

  “You’re supposed to be looking at the stars, not me.”

  “I did look at the stars. Now I’m looking at you.”

  “Well, stop it.”

  He traced her cheek with one finger, and chills popped out on her skin.

  “You don’t like when men pay attention to you.”

  “That’s not true.”

  He shifted, scooting over toward her. He raised up and loomed over her, planting one hand on each side of her ribcage. “Is that right? So me leaning over you like this doesn’t bother you?”

  Oh, it bothered her plenty. But not in the way he thought. “No.”

  He moved again, this time straddling her, his crotch aligned with hers. He held his weight off her with the powerful muscles of his arms and thighs. But his body on top of her was so intimate she could barely breathe. Her skirt had ridden up her thighs, and if he shifted just a little more, he could be rubbing all that delicious denim against her panties. She got wet just thinking about it.

  “How about this? Does this bother you?”

  She was finding it hard to breathe. Sexual arousal got in the way of all her synapses firing correctly. “No.”

  “Just ‘no’? That’s all you have to say?”

  Her heart pounded, her breasts felt full and achy. She wanted Gage to touch them, to lift her top and fit his mouth around the throbbing buds. Did he really want to have a conversation with her now? Couldn’t he read her breathy signals?

  “What’s wrong, Brea?” He leaned forward, captured her wrists in his hands and moved her arms to her sides. “This bother you?”

  “No.” She’d squeaked the word out, all she was capable of now. Her entire body, including her tongue, felt swollen, thick with desire and need.

  “Is there something you want?”

  Why was he torturing her like this? Couldn’t he tell? Her bra was flimsy, and so was the top. She was sure her hard nipples were poking through, her arousal evident for him to see.

  Gage had a firm hold on her wrists, but she knew he’d let go of her if she asked. And for some reason him holding her like this, his weight on her, was so damn exciting. She felt his erection, knew he was affected, too, and that stimulated her even more. Unable to resist her body’s primal instincts, she lifted her hips, searching for that intimate male-to-female contact.

  “I like that, Brea. Do it again.”

  Why was it so easy for him to say exactly what was on his mind, and so difficult for her to put voice to her own needs? She lifted, rocking her pelvis against him.

  He leaned toward her, his breath washing over her face. “That makes my dick hard.”

  He spread his body over hers, and now she could really feel his cock, hot and hard, pressing insistently against her. He nudged her legs apart so his shaft wedged between her legs, right at the sweet spot of her pussy. She let out a moan and he surged against her.

  “Like that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Want more?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then tell me what you see happening between us tonight, Brea.”

  four

  dear god. gage wanted her to spell it out for him? Wasn’t it obvious? They were body-to-body, though still fully clothed. He could rectify that easily enough. Or they could do it without taking their clothes off. At this point she didn’t much care. She just wanted to feel him inside her. She tried to shift, to spread her legs, to give him a subtle—or maybe not so subtle—message, but he had her effectively pinned to the ground.

  He shook his head, his blue eyes boring into her. “Not with your body, honey. Tell me what you want. Say it.”

  “Isn’t it obvious?”

  “To my dick? Yeah. But I think you need a few lessons in self-esteem.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Really. And what made you decide there’s anything wrong with my self-esteem?”

  He let go of her wrists and brushed his hand over her hair. “Your eyes have a wounded look. When you’re around men, you draw your shoulders toward your chest and almost shrink inside yourself. And you avert your gaze and look at the ground like you consider yourself unworthy of a man’s attention.”

  She gaped at him like he’d grown two heads. “How long have you been watching me?”

  “Since the first day you got here.”

  “You make it a point to study women’s body language and eyes?”

  “No. Just yours. And I can tell a woman who’s been hurt by men before. You have.”

  She opened her mouth to object, but he pressed his finger over her lips. “Don’t bother to deny it, Brea.”

  Okay, so she wouldn’t. And fine, so he’d read her signals all too clear. It was a little disconcerting to discover she was so transparent. Or maybe she wasn’t and Gage was just more adept at reading women—at reading her—than any other man she’d met. “Why do you care?”

  He smiled down at her. “Because a woman deserves to be cherished. She deserves to be treated like she’s the most special creature a man has ever met. And if you haven’t been, then it’s damn time someone gave you the power you deserve.”

  She snorted. “Women don’t have the power.”

  “Oh, that’s where you’re wrong, darlin’. Ain’t no woman alive who doesn’t have power over a man.”

  “How do you figure that?”

  He rolled to the side and fisted her skirt with one hand, drawing it up her thighs.

  With his free hand, he slid his palm over her sex. Heat lightning shot between her legs and she melted right there.

  “Because you have this,” he said, pressing his palm lightly against her pussy. “And a man will fall to his knees and do whatever you want just so he can have it.”

  He slid his fingers under the fabric of her panties, his touch a bare wh
isper over her flesh. She shuddered at the contact, was so close to orgasm already it was embarrassing. She gripped his shoulders and arched her pelvis against his hand.

  “Now. Tell me what you want, Brea, and I’ll give it to you.”

  She wanted his hand right there, doing exactly what he was doing. She wanted his mouth covering her sex, licking her until she screamed. She wanted him to rip away her panties to shove his cock inside her. She wanted him to fuck her hard. And then even harder. But she couldn’t form the words, could only fight to retain control before she tunneled off into oblivion.

  “No. Don’t think them. Tell me. I want to know exactly what you’re thinking about.”

  She swallowed—God, her throat was parched—and took a deep breath, nervous as hell about uttering these words to a man for the first time.

  “I want you to make me come, Gage.”

  His lips lifted in that smile that made her turn to melted butter. “Good. How do you want me to make you come?”

  “First with your hand. Then with your mouth. And then I want you to—”

  “Go ahead. You can say anything you want to me. Do you know when you tell me what you want it gets me hot?”

  “I want you to rip my panties off and fuck me.”

  Now it was his turn to suck in a deep breath. “Oh hell yeah. I like the sound of that.” He slid his hand back and forth, using light and easy motions, coating his fingers with her moisture. “You want me to fuck you easy or hard?”

  She dug her nails into his arm, hardly aware of her own sanity as his fingers danced magic across her clit. “Hard. Really hard.”

  “Make you scream kind of hard?”

  Her belly did flip-flops hearing him say it. She tightened her grip on his shoulders. “Yes.”

  “Then let’s get to it.”

  Molten heat burned her, took her ever closer to the edge as he slid his finger inside her and pumped while he used the heel of his hand to glide against her clit.

  “You’re a beautiful woman, Brea, your body is made for sex. I can feel you clench around my fingers. You’re wet and hot and you’re body’s crying out to come.”

  And then he kissed her, that same blistering kind of kiss he’d given her the night before, the one that made her believe he could take possession of a woman and she’d beg him for more. She whimpered against his mouth as he continued to do magical things with his hand and fingers, never once letting up. That and his sinfully sexy words were all it took to send her crashing into a climax. She cried out and arched her butt off the blanket to drive herself closer to his hand as waves of pleasure catapulted through her.