by Maisey Yates
“You do?”
“Yeah. Well, I haven’t wanted to date.”
“You’ve got to stop letting that guy have so much power over you,” he said.
“What? Michael? He doesn’t . . . I mean, I don’t . . .”
“Yes, you do. You think you’re quite the revolutionary. All independent and doing what you want. But I think a lot of what you do is to spite your family, and the other part is to protect yourself from getting hurt again. Everyone has power in your life. Everyone except you.”
He opened the door to the house and walked in. She followed. “Excuse me, Dr. Phil, but where the hell do you get off psychoanalyzing me? You’re an angry, bitter, sexually frustrated man who hasn’t dealt with the facts that his old man ended up being a douche and that his ex was a nut. You’ve internalized it. All of it. You’re like a big ball of tense. Angry at her, angry at him, and trying to hold it all in so no one else has to deal with it. Even though you aren’t dealing with it. And you want to armchair pysch me?”
“Okay, I might be all those things, but at least I know I’m screwed up. You seem to think you have a plan for everything. And you walk around acting like you have it all figured out, when it’s pretty clear that you don’t.”
What was it about this man? How could he bring her from aroused to tears to rage in a matter of five minutes? “And you do? You’re the man with the plan?”
“No. But I don’t claim to be.”
“I’ve never claimed to be either.”
“Sure you have. You think we’re going to just ‘work this out.’ You think things aren’t already complicated between us. You’re delusional.”
“Nothing is complicated. I feel nothing for you.”
“Nothing?” He put his hands on his slim hips, his chest and stomach on show for her.
“You’re hot. So what? A lot of guys are hot.”
“And you’re afraid of them. You don’t seem to be afraid of me.”
“Because you are just an ass.”
“And you want me,” he said, the cocky smile returning.
“Well, you want me, so that seems fair.”
“I do,” he said, his voice getting rough. He closed the distance between them, standing just close enough to touch, close enough for her to feel his heat. “I want to taste you lips again, but I don’t want to stop there. I want to taste every inch of you.”
She started shaking. Her thigh muscles shivering, her hands trembling. She couldn’t do anything. Not anything but keep listening and hope, pray, he kept talking.
“I want to take that top off you and see what color your nipples are. I’ve been thinking about it.”
This was what she wanted. Him, out of control and wanting her. Just her. Not marriage or anything else. And maybe it was stupid, but it was healing something in her. Beyond any grander purpose, she just wanted him.
She stretched her hand out and put it flat on his chest, letting it drift down, her fingertips skimming his abs. “Oh . . .”
Heavy footsteps on the stairs broke up their moment of intimacy, and Lark appeared a moment later.
“Oh, hi,” she said, clearly oblivious to having interrupted anything. “Cole, we got a huge booking for July.”
“I heard,” he grunted, his eyes never leaving Kelsey.
“Is it hot outside?” Lark asked, probably due to Cole’s state of undress.
“Not especially,” he said.
“Shameless hussy,” Kelsey said, her eyes trained on his chest. She directed her focus to Lark. “He’s just showing off.”
Lark frowned, a clear indication she thought they were both insane. “Um. Okay. You might want to shower first,” she said.
A statement made by a woman who clearly didn’t understand the appeal of a man with a little sweat and dirt on him. Kelsey got the appeal. Big time.
“Maybe take a cold one,” Kelsey said.
“You’re funny,” he said.
She grinned, big and cheesy. “I know.”
“I could take a hot shower and you could join me.”
“Ah!” Lark made a very indignant sound. “Could you please keep a muzzle on it while you’re in front of me? Men are so gross.”
Kelsey had a feeling she was looking for a little bit of female backup, but Kelsey couldn’t find anything about the proposition gross. Mainly enticing. Potentially slippery.
“What’s this about the booking?” he asked, obviously attempting a subject change.
“I thought you’d heard about it.”
“I have, but I thought you could give me the details.”
Lark brightened. “Oh, well, we’ll have all the cabins full. And they want some ropes and harnesses set up in the woods.”
Cole grimaced. “Please tell me this isn’t a kinky sex thing.”
Lark made a face. “What could you even . . . ? Never mind. No, it’s part of their trust exercises. I figured we could find out how to accommodate them, and then we’d have it set up in case any more corporations out of Portland or Seattle wanted to come have wilderness experiences.”
“Good idea,” he said.
His sister beamed. “And we’ll do a big old-fashioned barbecue type thing. And have them learn low-speed barrel racing.”
“As long as the insurance is fine with it.”
“I checked.”
“Good job, kid.”
Cole seemed so much less cagey now. Like he was opening up a little, letting go a little. Rather than holding to everything so tight, like if he gave an inch it would all break apart. She didn’t know what had brought the change on; only that she liked it. And Lark obviously did too.
It made her feel warm and fuzzy about him. Of all the conflicting emotions she had about him, that was her least favorite. Anger or arousal was much safer. Much less challenging.
And when they were all mixed together—well, that was lethal.
Her body still ached, and her mind was spinning with the possibilities of what they could get accomplished if there weren’t so many people crawling around the ranch. He could have bent her quite nicely over the back of the couch and had his way with her while she looked out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the majestic view . . . Yes, there could have been that. She’d never done anything like that before, but it suddenly seemed like a very good idea.
“I think I am going to take a shower,” Kelsey said. A cold one. A freezing cold one that would shock some sense into her and numb her body.
Cole nodded. “I’ll see you later.”
Kelsey waved at Lark as she headed up the stairs to her room and into the bathroom that was connected to it. She let out a breath and turned on the water, changing her mind about the temperature when she felt a few frigid drops on her fingers.
She cranked up the hot water and pulled her shirt up over her head. She unhooked her bra and took her jeans and panties off in one motion. She reached into her makeup bag for some hair pins and started putting her hair in place to keep the water off of it.
She looked different. Her eyes were bright; her cheeks flushed. Her face looked a little bit fuller too. She wouldn’t be surprised if she was gaining weight. She hadn’t paid attention at the doctor, and she hadn’t really bothered to examine herself visually recently, not closely.
She put her hand on her bare stomach. It really was starting to really stick out now. It seemed so much more real. She looked down and moved her palm over the bump. It was real. The baby. And it was there. She was going to have a baby, and she was planning on doing it alone. Going back to her house in Portland. On not being here with Cole. She turned and shut the water off and grabbed a towel off the rack, wrapping it around herself.
She moved to the bed and sat, holding the terry cloth against her chest.
“Kelsey.” Cole walked in without knocking.
“I just told you I was going to take a shower. You might have knocked.”
“I didn’t hear water.”
“Well, I’m naked.”
“I see that,�
�� he said. “You are covered though.” His words sounded strangled.
“You put a shirt on,” she said, looking at the tight black shirt that hugged his torso like a second skin.
“Yes. It seemed appropriate.”
“What do you want?”
He closed the door behind him. She tightened her hold on the towel. “To . . . to say something about what happened downstairs. About what keeps happening.”
“Then say it.”
“Strangely, I don’t really want to talk anymore.” He crossed to the bed and paused. He was waiting, she realized, for permission. Or to be yelled at.
She drew in a shaky breath. “Show me what you do want then.”
That was all the permission he needed. He sat down on the bed, next to her, his arm curling around her waist. His lips crashed down on hers, hot, hard, insistent. Everything she wanted from him. She slid her tongue into his mouth, and he sucked gently.
She whimpered, wrapping her arms around his neck and letting the towel fall to her waist. His hands slid up over her bare back and she arched into him, her nipples grazing the fabric of his shirt. He moved his hands around slowly, thumbs brushing against the sides of her breasts.
“Oh, please, yes,” she whispered against his lips.
Then he brought his hands around so he could palm her breasts. His skin was rough, calloused from so much manual labor. She loved it. She loved everything about his hands, and about what they made her feel.
He shifted and pulled her up onto his lap. She could feel his hardened erection beneath her thigh, could feel his heat through the denim. The towel slipped, now just covering the top of her legs and the V at the apex of her thighs.
He pinched her nipple lightly between his thumb and forefinger, moving his lips against the side of her neck, his tongue sliding over the sensitive skin. She moved her hands beneath the back of his shirt, pushing the fabric upward until it caught on his arms. She moved back and he bent forward, allowing her to tug the black t-shirt over his head.
“I like you this way,” she said, planting her hands on his chest. “I like you this way a lot.”
“I like you this way too,” he said, eyes glittering, wicked, as he let his fingers drift over her tightened nipples.
“Oh, you’re so good at that.”
“I’m good at a lot of things.”
“I look forward to discovering your list of talents,” she said, shifting in his lap so that she was straddling him, the denim rough and amazing between her thighs. She kissed him, hard, her hands bracketing his face.
He wrapped his arms around her, his kiss devouring, drugging. Perfect.
She pressed lightly on his chest and he went backward onto the bed. She leaned forward, her lips still pressed against his. She moved again, and his flashy belt buckle hit her in the stomach.
“Ow. Let’s get rid of that,” she said, sliding to the side, working at the ornate metal closure of his belt.
He moved away from her, and she rolled neatly from him to the bedspread. He sat up, his legs swinging over the side of the bed. “Kelsey, this can’t happen,” he said, roughly.
“Um, I think it very well can. It’s about to.”
“It shouldn’t. Not like this. It’s all or it’s nothing.” He stood, looking down at her, his expression blank. “Either you marry me or . . .”
She scrambled for the towel and tugged it over her naked body. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, you aren’t that irresistible,” she spat. “You think you’re going to bribe me into marrying you by tempting me with your body? That’s . . . low. And demeaning. And it won’t work.”
Shame heated her face. It was less that he’d turned her down, and more that he’d had the presence of mind to remember why their sleeping together was a bad idea. She couldn’t remember anything when he kissed her. And when he’d touched her breasts . . . logical thought had become a thing of the past. She had barely known her own name, and he’d just . . . stopped.
He was so controlled. So maddeningly immune to the beast of desire. He was able to keep it on a leash, and she . . . she was in danger of being consumed by it.
She should be used to it, she supposed. She just wasn’t the kind of woman who drew that out in men. She’d witnessed her ex doing things with another woman that he’d never wanted to do for her. And then Cole was ready, every time they touched, to just walk away. To serve the greater agenda. If that wasn’t proof that she wasn’t the sort who unleashed animal passions, then . . . she didn’t know what was.
“That’s not it, Kelsey,” he said, interrupting her thoughts. “I’m not trying to manipulate you. I’m being logical here. I’m being realistic.”
“I already told you, just because we have sex doesn’t mean you’ll break my heart.” It didn’t believe he wouldn’t either. And she could not believe she was egging the guy on to have sex with her. And yet she was. And she couldn’t seem to stop.
“I don’t believe you.”
“Your ego is amazing,” she said. “You think we’ll have sex and I’ll fall in love with you, and you’ll leave me utterly devastated with the loss of you in my life and bed. I’m not looking for love; I never was. I think my life choices have made that pretty obvious.”
“Even if it’s not an issue of falling in love, how will you feel if I end up with someone else?”
“And how will you feel if I end up with someone else?”
“I’ll want to cut the bastard’s balls off, that’s how I’ll feel.”
“Oh.” That hadn’t been the answer she’d expected. “Well . . .”
“I can only see it working two ways,” he said, his voice rough.
“That’s kind of a flawed argument though,” she said. “Because that assumes that there’s nothing in between those two options already. That assumes that we can’t just feel nothing, or be friends, or whatever.”
“We can control this. It doesn’t have to control us. I’ll let you take your shower.” He walked out of the room, closing the door hard behind him.
Control. He was so controlled. And she hated it. Why were men able to be so controlled around her? And why was he the one man who seemed to keep her from having any of it?
She growled and stalked back into the bathroom. She gripped the edges of the vanity and looked at herself in the mirror, at her swollen lips and pink skin.
“It’s time Cole Mitchell lost his control,” she said.
Chapter Nineteen
Cole cursed a blue streak all the way back down the stairs and out the door. He had half a mind to stick his head in a bucket of freezing cold water. He was an idiot, and he was an asshole. And he absolutely felt like both.
He’d hurt her. Which was about the worst of it. Worse even than the constant throbbing in his cock. The entire idea of denying his desire for her was to keep from hurting her. To keep from making things awkward and painful.
And a little bit to manipulate her, you jackass.
Yes, there was a little bit of manipulation at play. How much of an egotistical bastard did a man have to be to withhold sex as a means of getting a woman to marry him?
A big one.
He growled and hit his hand against the porch railing.
“What are you doing?” Cade asked, walking out of the house at just the wrong time.
“Screwing up my life, and Kelsey’s, to the best of my abilities.”
“How?”
“I hurt her feelings.” He wasn’t going into detail. He wasn’t adding “sharing his near conquest with his brother” to his list of growing sins.
“Well, stop doing things like that.”
“If only it were so easy.”
“What’s the problem?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know what to do with women. Not anymore. If I ever did. I screwed up my only attempt at commitment.”
“You screwed it up because you picked the wrong woman. That was your real problem, man. Nothing you did could have worked after that initial bad decision.”
“True.” Cole looked down at his hands. “If I had met Kelsey without all this . . .”
“You would have slept with her.”
“I don’t know. I think so now, but maybe not.”
“Why not?”
“She’s not the kind of girl you just sleep with. She seems like she’s the kind of person who wants more. And I wouldn’t want to hurt her.”
“And you like her,” Cade said.
“That’s a good thing. You should like the woman you’re having a baby with.”
“The woman you proposed to.”
“Well, she’s sticking with no, so I’m not sure the proposal matters,” Cole bit out. “It’s for the best. I’d be a bad husband. I already know that about myself. I’m selfish, and I don’t really get female emotion. I can’t give her what she wants.”
“What makes you think you don’t get female emotion? And don’t say Shawna. Understanding Shawna would have required you to understand . . . I don’t know, the subtle nuance of the velociraptor. Her emotions had very little to do with a normal woman’s emotions.”
That pulled a reluctant laugh from Cole. “Fine. All right. That’s true.”
“You’ve always done well with Lark.”
Cole shrugged. “Yeah, well, she’s my sister. And it’s . . . different. I feel protective of her. I feel that way about the baby, especially since we heard the heartbeat. But as far as . . . as loving someone, like a husband is supposed to love a wife . . . I don’t even know if that’s real. If it can last.”
“Why? Because of Dad?”
“Yeah. And Shawna. And yeah, I know she was . . . I know she wasn’t who I thought she was, but I still didn’t have it in me to make it work. Those feelings I had for her? They burned hot like a brush fire, and when there was nothing left to keep it going? Nothing. Not even a spark. And my whole reason for keeping it together, for being the man I am . . . it’s all a lie, Cade. Is it even possible to be that man?”
“So you’re worried . . . what? You’d stop loving her if you started?”
“I’m worried I never could. I don’t . . . I’ve loved too many people who are gone. And one who was never there to begin with. I don’t want to depend on anyone like that, not again.”