Rancher's Wild Secret & Hold Me, Cowboy (Gold Valley Vineyards Book 1)

by Maisey Yates

  “I didn’t know that I was your one-man sexual revolution.”

  “Well, I didn’t want to put that kind of pressure on you.”

  “I thrive under pressure.”

  It was easy to forget, right now, that she was the daughter of his enemy. That he was here to destroy her family. That her engagement and the lack of chemistry between herself and her fiancé would be the least of her worries in the next week.

  In fact, maybe he could spare her from the marriage. Because the optics for the family would be pretty damned reduced, probably beyond the point of healing. Her marriage to an ad exec was hardly going to fix that.

  And anyway, the man would probably be much less interested in marrying into the Maxfield dynasty when it was reduced to more of a one-horse outfit and they didn’t have two coins to rub together.

  Holden waited for there to be guilt. But he didn’t feel it.

  Instead, he felt some kind of indefinable sense of satisfaction. Like in the past few moments he had collected another chess piece that had once belonged to his enemy. And Emerson was so much more than a pawn.

  But he didn’t know how to play this victory. Not yet.

  And anyway, she didn’t feel much like a victory or a conquest lying here in bed with him when he was still naked. He felt more than a little bit conquered himself.

  “This is terrifying,” she whispered. “Because I shouldn’t be here. And I shouldn’t be with you at all. And I think this is the most relaxed and maybe even the happiest I’ve ever felt in my life.” She looked up at him, and a tear tracked down her cheek, and just like that, the guilt hit him right in the chest. “And I know that it can’t go beyond tonight. I know it can’t. Because you have your life... And I have mine.”

  “And there’s no chance those two things could ever cross,” he said, the words coming out a hell of a lot more hostile than he intended.

  “I’m not trying to be snobby or anything,” she said. “But there’s expectations about the kind of man that I’ll end up with. And what he’ll bring to the family.”

  “Princess, I don’t know why you’re talking about marriage.”

  “Well, that’s another problem in and of itself, isn’t it? I’m at that point. Where marriage has to be considered.”

  “You’re at that point? What the hell does that mean? Are we in the 1800s?”

  “In a family like mine, it matters. We have to... My father doesn’t have sons. His daughters have to marry well, marry men who respect and uphold the winery. His sons-in-law are going to gain a certain amount of ownership of the place, and that means...”

  “His sons-in-law are getting ownership of the business?”

  “Yes,” she said. “I mean, I’ll retain my share as well, so don’t think it’s that kind of draconian nonsense. But when we marry, Donovan is going to get a share of the winery. As large as mine. When Wren marries, it will be the same. Then there’s Cricket, and her husband will get a share as well, though not as large. And by the time that’s all finished, my father will only have a portion. A very small portion.”

  “How does that math work? Cricket gets less?”

  “Well, so far Cricket doesn’t have any interest in running the place, and she never has. So yes.”

  “No wonder your father is so invested in controlling who you marry.”

  “It’s for my protection as well. It’s not like he wants me getting involved with fortune hunters.”

  “You really are from another world,” he said, disdain in his voice, even though he didn’t mean it to be there. Because it didn’t matter. Because it wasn’t true—he had money, he had status. And because he didn’t care about her. Or her opinion. He didn’t care that she was as shallow as the rest of her family, as her father. It didn’t concern him and, in fact, was sort of helpful given the fact that he had taken pretty terrible advantage of her, that he’d lied to her to get her into bed.

  “I can tell that you think I’m a snob,” she said. “I’m not, I promise. I wouldn’t get naked with a man I thought was beneath me.”

  “Well, that’s BS. It’s a pretty well-documented fact that people find slumming to be titillating, Emerson.”

  “Well, I don’t. You’re different. And yes, I find that sexy. You’re forbidden, and maybe I find that sexy too, but it’s not about you being less than me, or less than other men that I’ve been with. Somehow, you’re more, and I don’t know what to do with that. That’s why it hurts. Because I don’t know if I will ever feel as contented, ever again, as I do right now lying in this cabin, and this is not supposed to be...”

  “It’s not supposed to be anything you aspire to. How could it be? When your mother thinks that what you have is beneath you as it is.”

  She swallowed and looked away. “My life’s not mine. It’s attached to this thing my father built from scratch. This legacy that has meant a life that I’m grateful for, whatever you might think. I don’t need to have gone without to understand that what I’ve been given is extraordinary. I do understand that. But it’s an incredible responsibility to bear as well, and I have to be...a steward of it. Whether I want to be or not.”

  And suddenly, he resented it all. Every last bit. The lies that stood between them, the way she saw him, and his perceived lack of power in this moment. He growled, reversing their positions so he was over her.

  “None of that matters just now,” he said.

  She looked up at him, and then she touched his face. “No,” she agreed. “I don’t suppose it does.”

  He reached down and found her red lace bra, touching the flimsy fabric and then looking back at her. He took hold of her wrists, like he’d done earlier, and, this time, secured them tightly with the lace.

  “Right now, you’re here,” he said. “And I’m the only thing you need to worry about. You’re mine right here, and there’s nothing outside this room, off of this bed, do you understand?”

  Her breath quickened, her breasts rising and falling with the motion. She nodded slowly.

  “Good girl,” he said. “You have a lot of responsibilities outside, but when you’re here, the only thing you have to worry about is pleasing me.”

  This burned away the words of the last few minutes, somehow making it all feel okay again, even if it shouldn’t. As if securing her wrists now might help him hold on to this moment a little tighter. Before he had to worry about the rest, before he had to deal with the fallout and what it would mean for Emerson.

  This thing that she cared about so deeply, this dynasty, which she was willing to marry a man she didn’t care about at all to secure.

  He would free her from it, and in the end, it might be a blessing.

  He looked at the way her wrists were tied, and suddenly he didn’t want to free her at all.

  What he wanted was to keep her.

  He got a condom from his wallet and returned to her, where she lay on the bed, her wrists bound, her thighs spread wide in invitation.

  He sheathed himself and gripped her hips, entering her in one smooth stroke. Her climax was instant, and it was hard, squeezing him tight as he pounded into her without mercy.

  And he set about proving to her that there was no limit to the number of times she could find her pleasure.

  But there was a cost to that game, one that crystallized in his mind after the third time she cried out his name and settled herself against his chest, her wrists still tightly tied.

  She was bound to him now.

  And she had betrayed a very crucial piece of information.

  And the ways it could all come together for him became suddenly clear.

  He knew exactly what he was going to do.

  Seven

  It had been three days since her night in the cabin with Holden. And he was all she could think about. She knew she was being ridiculous. They had another event happening at the winery
tonight, and she couldn’t afford to be distracted.

  There was going to be an engagement party in the large barn, which had been completely and totally made over into an elegant, rustic setting, with vast open windows that made the most of the view, and elegant chandeliers throughout.

  Tonight’s event wasn’t all on her shoulders. Mostly, it was Wren’s responsibility, but Emerson was helping, and she had a feeling that in her current state she wasn’t helping much.

  All she could do was think about Holden. The things he had done to her body. The things he had taught her about her body.

  She felt like an idiot. Spinning fantasies about a man, obsessing about him.

  She’d never realized she would be into something like bondage, but he had shown her the absolute freedom there could be in giving up control.

  She was so used to controlling everything all the time. And for just a few hours in his bed, he had taken the lead. It was like a burden had been lifted from her.

  “Are you there, Emerson? It’s me, Wren.”

  Emerson turned to look at her sister, who was fussing with the guest list in front of her.

  “I’m here, and I’ve been here, helping you obsess over details.”

  “You’re here,” Wren said. “But you’re not here.”

  Emerson looked down at her left hand and cursed. Because there was supposed to be a ring there. She had taken it off before going to Holden’s cabin, but she needed to get it back on before tonight. Before she was circulating in a room full of guests.

  Tonight’s party was different from a brand-related launch. The event was at the heart of the winery itself, and as the manager of the property, Wren was the person taking the lead. When it came to broader brand representation, it was down to Emerson. But Emerson would still be taking discreet photographs of the event to share on social media, as that helped with the broader awareness of the brand.

  Their jobs often crossed, as this was a family operation and not a large corporation. But neither of them minded. And in fact, Emerson considered it a good day when she got to spend extra time with her sister. But less so today when Wren was so apparently frazzled.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Wren asked, and then her eye fell meaningfully to her left hand. “Did something happen with Donovan?”

  “No,” Emerson said. “I just forgot to put the ring on.”

  “That doesn’t sound like you. Because you’re ever conscious of the fact that a ring like that is a statement.”

  “I’m well aware of what I’m ever conscious of, Wren,” she said. “I don’t need you to remind me.”

  “And yet, you forgot something today, so it seems like you need a reminder.”

  “It’s really nothing.”

  “Except it is something. Because if it were nothing, then you wouldn’t be acting weird.”

  “Fine. Don’t tell anyone,” Emerson said, knowing already that she would regret what she was about to say.

  “I like secrets,” Wren said, leaning in.

  “I had a... I had a one-night stand.” Her sister stared at her. Unmoving. “With a man.”

  Wren huffed a laugh. “Well, I didn’t figure you were telling me about the furniture in your bedroom.”

  “I mean, Donovan and I aren’t exclusive, but it didn’t feel right to wear his ring while I was...with someone else.”

  “I had no idea,” Wren said, her eyes widening. “I didn’t know you were that...”

  “Much of a hussy?”

  “That progressive,” she said.

  “Well, I’m not. In general. But I was, and am a little thrown off by it. And no one can ever know.”

  “Solemnly swear.”

  “You cannot tell Cricket.”

  “Why would I tell Cricket? She would never be able to look you in the eyes again, and she would absolutely give you away. Not on purpose, mind you.”

  “No, but it’s a secret that she couldn’t handle.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Have you met a man that you just...couldn’t get out of your head even though he was absolutely unsuitable?”

  Wren jolted, her whole body looking like it had been touched by a live wire. “I am very busy with my job.”

  “Wren.”

  “Yes. Fine. I do know what it’s like to have a sexual obsession with the wrong guy. But I’ve never...acted on it.” The look on her face was so horrified it would have been funny, if Emerson herself hadn’t just done the thing that so appalled her sister.

  “There’s nothing wrong with...being with someone you want, is there? No, I don’t really know him, but I knew I wanted him and that seems like a decent reason to sleep with someone, right?”

  Wren looked twitchy. “I... Look. Lust and like aren’t the same. I get it.”

  “I like him fine enough,” Emerson said. “But we can’t ever... He works for Dad.”

  “Like...in the corporate office?”

  “No, like, on the ranch.”

  “Emersonnnnn.”

  “What?”

  “Are you living out a stable boy fantasy?”

  Emerson drew her lip between her teeth and worried it back and forth. “He’s not a boy. He’s a man. On that you can trust me.”

  “The question stands.”

  “Maybe it was sort of that fantasy, I don’t know. It was a fantasy, that much I can tell you. But it was supposed to just happen and be done, and I’m obsessing about him instead.”

  “Who would have ever thought that could happen?” Wren asked in mock surprise.

  “In this advanced modern era, I should simply be able to claim my sexuality. Own it! Bring it with me wherever I go. Not...leave it behind in some run-down cabin with the hottest man I’ve ever seen in my life.”

  “Those are truly sage words. You should put them on a pretty graphic and post it to your page. Hashtag—girl-boss-of-your-own-sexuality. Put your hair up and screw his brains out!”

  Emerson shot her sister a deadly glare. “You know I hate that.”

  “I also know you never put a toe out of line, and yet here you are, confessing an extremely scandalous transgression.”

  “This secret goes to your grave with you, or I put you in the ground early, do you understand?”

  Wren smirked and seemed to stretch a little taller, as if reminding Emerson she’d outgrown her by two inches when she was thirteen. She and Wren definitely looked like sisters—the same dark hair and blue eyes—but Wren wasn’t curvy. She was tall and lean, her hair sleek like her build. She’d honed her more athletic figure with Krav Maga, kickboxing and all other manner of relatively violent exercise.

  She claimed it was the only reason she hadn’t killed Creed Cooper yet.

  She also claimed she liked knowing she could kill him if the occasion arose at one of the many different venues where they crossed paths.

  Her martial arts skills were yet another reason it was hilarious for Emerson to threaten her sister. She’d be pinned to the ground in one second flat. Though, as the older sibling, she’d done her part to emotionally scar her sister to the point that, when she’d outgrown her, she still believed on some level Emerson could destroy her.

  “In all seriousness,” Wren said, “it does concern me. I mean, that you’re marrying Donovan, and you’re clearly more into whoever this other guy is.”

  “Right. Because I’m going to marry one of the men that work here. That would go over like... What’s heavier than a lead balloon?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “What kind of ridiculous question is that? Of course it matters.”

  “Dad has never shown the slightest bit of interest in who I’m dating or not dating.”

  “You’re not the oldest. I think... I think he figures he’ll get me out of the way first. And it isn’t a matter of him showing interest in wh
o I’m dating. He directly told me that Donovan was the sort of man that I should associate with. He set me up with him.”

  “You’re just going to marry who Dad tells you to marry?”

  “Would you do differently, Wren? Honestly, I’m asking you.”

  “I don’t think I could marry a man that I wasn’t even attracted to.”

  “If Dad told you a certain man met with his approval, if he pushed you in that direction...you wouldn’t try to make it work?”

  Wren looked away. “I don’t know. I guess I might have to try, but if after two years I still wasn’t interested physically...”

  “Marriage is a partnership. Our bodies will change. And sex drives and attraction will all change too. We need to have something in common. I mean, it makes way more sense to marry a man I have a whole host of things in common with than it does to marry one who I just want to be naked with.”

  “I didn’t suggest you marry the ranch hand. But perhaps there’s some middle ground. A man you like to talk to, and a man you want to sleep with.”

  “Well, I have yet to find a middle ground that would be suitable for Dad.”

  Anyway, Emerson didn’t think that Holden could be called a middle ground. Not really. He was something so much more than that. Much too much of an extreme to be called something as neutral as middle ground.

  “Maybe you should wait until you do.”

  “Or maybe I should just do what feels best,” Emerson said. “I mean, maybe my marriage won’t be the best of the best. Maybe I can’t have everything. But we are really lucky, you and I. Look at this life.” She gestured around the barn. “We have so much. I can make do with whatever I don’t have.”

  Wren looked sad. “I don’t know. That seems...tragic to me.”

  “What about you? You said you wanted a man and you haven’t done anything about it.”

  “That’s different.”

  “So, there’s a man you want, and you can’t be with him.”

  “I don’t even like him,” she said.

  Emerson felt bowled over by that statement. Because there was only one man Emerson knew who Wren hated. And the idea that Wren might want him...