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

by Maisey Yates

  “You may not believe me, but I told you, I didn’t intend to involve you in this.”

  “I just conveniently involved myself?”

  “If it helps, I found it an inconvenience at first.”

  “Why? You felt guilty? In the middle of your quest to take down my family and our fortune? Yes, that must’ve been inconvenient for you.”

  “I didn’t want to drag you into it,” he said. “Because I’m not your father. And I sure as hell wasn’t going to extract revenge by using you for sex. The sex was separate. I only realized the possibilities when you told me about how your husband would be given an ownership stake in the vineyard.”

  “Right,” she said. “Of course. Because I was an idiot who thought that since you had been inside me, I could maybe have a casual conversation with you.”

  “I’m sorry, but the information was too good for me to let go. And in the end, your family gets off easier.”

  “Except that you might do something drastic and destroy the winery with your control of the share.”

  “I was absolutely going to do that, but now I can own a piece of it instead. And that benefits me. I also have his daughter, right with me.”

  “Oh, are you going to hold a gun to my head for dramatics?”

  “No gun,” he said. “In fact, we’re on a private plane, and you’re drinking champagne. You’re not in any danger from me, and I didn’t force you to come with me.”

  “But you did,” she said, her voice thick.

  “I offered you two choices.”

  “I didn’t like either of them.”

  “Welcome to life, princess. You not liking your options isn’t the same as you not having any.”

  She ignored that statement. “This is not my life.”

  “It is now.” He appraised her for a long moment, the elegant line of her profile. She was staring out the window, doing her very best not to look at him. “The Big Bad Wolf was always going to try and eat you. You know how the fairy tale goes.”

  “Say whatever you need to say to make yourself feel better,” she said. “You’re not a wolf. You’re just a dick.”

  “And your father?”

  That seemed to kill her desire to banter with him. “I don’t know if I believe you.”

  “But you believe me just enough to be on a plane with me going to Las Vegas to get married, because if I’m right, if I’m telling the truth...”

  “It ruins everything. And I don’t think I trust anyone quite so much that I would take that chance. Not even my father. I don’t trust you at all, but what choice do I have? Because you’re right. I was willing to marry a man that I didn’t love to support my family. To support the empire. The dynasty. So why the hell wouldn’t I do it now?”

  “Oh, but you hate me, don’t you?”

  “I do,” she said. “I really do.”

  He could sense that there was more she wanted to say, but that she wouldn’t. And they were silent for the next hour, until the plane touched down in Nevada.

  “Did you want an Elvis impersonator?” he asked, when they arrived on the Strip, at the little white wedding chapel he’d reserved before they landed.

  “And me without my phone,” she said.

  “Did you want to take pictures and post them?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I wanted to beat you over the head with it.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question about Elvis.”

  “Yeah, that would be good. If we don’t have an Elvis impersonator, the entire wedding will be ruined.”

  “Don’t tease me, because I will get the Elvis impersonator.”

  “Get him,” she said, making a broad gesture. “Please. Because otherwise this would be absurd.”

  The edge of hysteria in her voice suggested she felt it was already absurd, but he chose to take what she said as gospel.

  And he checked the box on the ridiculous paperwork, requesting Elvis, because she thought he was kidding, and she was going to learn very quickly that he was not a man to be trifled with. Even when it came to things like this.

  They waited until their names were called.

  And sadly, the only impersonator who was available past ten thirty on a Saturday night seemed to be Elvis from the mid-1970s.

  “Do you want me to sing ‘Burning Love’ or ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love’ at the end of the ceremony?” he asked in all seriousness.

  “Pick your favorite,” Emerson replied, her face stony.

  And Holden knew she had been certain that this level of farce would extinguish the thing that burned between them. Because she hated him now, and he could see the truth of that in her eyes.

  But he was happy to accept her challenge. Happy to stand there exchanging vows with an Elvis impersonator as officiant, and a woman in a feathered leotard as witness, because it didn’t change the fact that he wanted her.

  Desperately.

  That all he could think about was when this was finished, he was going to take her up to a lavish suite and have her fifty different ways.

  And she might not think she wanted it, but she would.

  She might think that she could burn it all out with her anger, but she couldn’t. He knew it.

  He knew it because he was consumed by it.

  He should feel only rage. Should feel only the need for revenge.

  But he didn’t.

  And she wouldn’t either.

  “You may kiss the bride,” Elvis said.

  She looked at him with a warning in her eyes, but that warning quickly became a challenge.

  She would learn pretty quickly that he didn’t back down from a challenge.

  He cupped her chin with his hand, and kissed her, hard and fast, but just that light, quick brush of their mouths left them both breathing hard.

  And as soon as they separated, the music began to play and Elvis started singing about how he just couldn’t help falling in love.

  Well, Holden could sure as hell help falling in love. But he couldn’t keep himself from wanting Emerson. That was a whole different situation.

  They signed the paperwork quickly, and as soon as they were in the car that had been waiting for them, he handed her his phone. “Call your lawyer.”

  “It’s almost midnight,” she said.

  “He’ll take a call from you, you know it. We need to get everything set into motion so we have it all signed tomorrow morning.”

  “She will take a call from me,” she said pointedly. But then she did as he asked. “Hi, Julia. It’s Emerson. I just got married.” He could hear a voice saying indiscriminate words on the other end. “Thank you. I need to make sure that I transfer the shares of the company into my husband’s name. As soon as possible.” She looked over at him. “Where are we staying?”

  She recited all of the necessary information back to Julia at his direction, including the information about him, before getting off the phone.

  “She’ll have everything faxed to us by morning.”

  “And she won’t tip off your father?”

  “No,” she said. “She’s the family lawyer, but she must know... She’s going to realize that I eloped. And she’s going to realize that I’m trying to bypass my father. That I want my husband to have the ownership shares he—I—is entitled to. She won’t allow my father to interfere.”

  “She’s a friend of yours, then.”

  “We became friends, yes. People who aren’t liars make friends.”

  “I’m wounded.”

  “I didn’t think you could wound granite.”

  “Why did you comply with what I asked you to do so easily?”

  Suddenly, her voice sounded very small and tired. “Because. It makes no sense to come here, to marry you, if I don’t follow through with the rest. You’ll ruin my family if you don’t get what you
asked for. I’m giving it to you. Protesting now is like tying my own self to the railroad tracks, and damsel in distress isn’t my style.” She looked at him, her blue eyes certain. “I made my bed. I’ll lie in it.”

  They pulled up to the front of a glitzy casino hotel that was far from his taste in anything.

  But what he did like about Las Vegas was the sexual excess. Those who created the lavish hotel rooms here understood exactly why a man was willing to pay a lot of money for a hotel room. And it involved elaborate showers, roomy bathtubs and beds that could accommodate all manner of athletics.

  The decor didn’t matter to him at all with those other things taken into consideration.

  They got out of the car, and he tipped the valet.

  “Your secretary called ahead, Mr. McCall,” the man said. “You’re all checked in and ready to go straight upstairs. A code has been texted to your phone.”

  Holden put his arm around her, and the two of them began to walk to an elevator. “I hope you don’t think... I... We’re going to a hotel room and...” Emerson said.

  “Do you think you’re going to share a space with me tonight and keep your hands off me?”

  They got inside the elevator, and the doors closed. “I hate you,” she said, shoving at his chest.

  “And you want me,” he said. “And that might make you hate me even more, but it doesn’t make it not true.”

  “I want to...”

  “Go ahead,” he said. “Whatever you want.”

  “I’m going to tear that tux right off your body,” she said, her voice low and feral. “Absolutely destroy it.”

  “Only if I can return the favor,” he said, arousal coursing through him.

  “You might not be all that confident when I have the most fragile part of you in my hand.”

  He didn’t know why, but that turned him on. “I’ll take my chances.”

  “I don’t understand what this is,” she said. “I should be...disgusted by you.”

  “It’s too late. You already got dirty with me, honey. You might as well just embrace it. Because you know how good it is between us. And you wanted me when I was nothing other than a ranch hand. Why wouldn’t you want me when you know that I’m a rich man with a vengeful streak a mile wide?”

  “You forced me into this.”

  “I rescued you from that boring bowl of oatmeal you called a fiancé. At least you hate me. You didn’t feel anything for him.”

  Her hackles were up by the time they got to the suite door, and he entered his code. The door opened and revealed the lavish room that had all the amenities he wanted out of such a place.

  “This is tacky,” she said, throwing her purse down on the couch.

  “And?”

  “Warm,” she said.

  She reached behind her body and grabbed hold of her zipper, pulling down the tab and letting her dress fall to the floor.

  “I figured you were going to make me work for it.”

  “Your ego doesn’t deserve that. Then you’d get to call it a seduction. I want to fuck you, I can’t help myself. But I’m not sure you should be particularly flattered by that. I hate myself for it.”

  “Feel free to indulge your self-loathing, particularly if at some point it involves you getting that pretty lipstick all over me.”

  “I’m sure it will. Because I’m here with you. And there’s not much I can do about my choices now. We’re married. And a stake in the vineyard is close to being transferred into your name. I’ve already had sex with you. I got myself into this. I might as well have an orgasm.”

  “We can certainly do better than one orgasm,” he said.

  She looked good enough to eat, standing there in some very bridal underwear, all white and lacy, and unintentionally perfect for the moment, still wearing the red high heels she’d had on with her dress.

  He liked her like this.

  But he liked her naked even better.

  She walked over to where he stood, grabbed hold of his tie and made good on her promise.

  She wrenched the knot loose, then tore at his shirt, sending buttons scattering across the floor. “I hope that was expensive,” she said, moving her hand over his bare chest.

  “It was,” he said. “Very, very expensive. But sadly for you, expensive doesn’t mean anything to me. I could buy ten more and not notice the expense.”

  He could see the moment when realization washed over her. About who had the power. She was so very comfortable with her financial status and she’d had an idea about his, and what that meant, and even though she’d seen the plane, seen him in the tux, the reality of who he’d been all along was just now hitting her.

  “And to think,” she said, “I was very worried about taking advantage of you that night we were together.”

  “That says more about you and the way you view people without money than it does about me, sweetheart.”

  “Not because of that. You work for my father. By extension, for me, since I own part of the winery. And I was afraid that I might be taking advantage of you. But here you were, so willing to blackmail me.”

  “Absolutely. Life’s a bastard, and so am I. That’s just the way of things.”

  “Here I thought she was a bitch. Which I’ve always found handy, I have to say.” She pushed his shirt off his shoulders, and he shed it the rest of the way onto the floor, and then she unhooked his belt, pulling it through the loops.

  He grinned. “Did you want to use that?”

  “What?”

  “You know, you could tie me down if you wanted,” he said. “If it would make you feel better. Make you feel like you have some control.”

  Something flared in her eyes, but he couldn’t quite read it. “Why would I want that? That wouldn’t give me more control. It would just mean I was doing most of the work.” She lifted her wrists up in supplication, her eyes never leaving his. “You can tie my wrists, and I’ll still have the control.”

  He put the tip of the leather through the buckle, and looped it over her wrists, pulling the end tight before he looped it through the buckle again, her wrists held fast together. Then, those blue eyes never leaving his, she sank down onto her knees in front of him.

  Ten

  She had lost her mind, or something. Her heart was pounding so hard, a mixture of arousal, rage and shame pouring over her.

  She should have told him no. She should have told him he was never touching her again. But something about her anger only made her want to play these games with him even more, and she didn’t know what that said about her.

  But he was challenging her, with everything from his marriage proposal to the Elvis at the chapel. This room itself was a challenge, and then the offer to let her tie him up.

  All of it was seeing if he could make her or break her, and she refused to break. Because she was Emerson Maxfield, and she excelled at everything she did. And if this was the way she was going to save her family’s dynasty, then she was going to save it on her knees in front of Holden McCall.

  “You think I’m just going to give you what you want?” he asked, stroking himself through his pants. She could see the aggressive outline of his arousal beneath the dark fabric, and her internal muscles pulsed.

  “Yes,” she said. “Because I don’t think you’re strong enough to resist me.”

  “You might be right about that,” he said. “Because I don’t do resisting. I spent too much of my life wanting, and that’s not something that I allow. I don’t want anymore. I have.”

  He unhooked the closure on his pants, slid the zipper down slowly and then freed himself.

  He wrapped his hand around the base, holding himself steady for her. She arched up on her knees and took him into her mouth, keeping her eyes on his the entire time.

  With her hands bound as they were, she allowed him to guide her, her ha
ir wrapped around his fist as he dictated her movements.

  It was a game.

  She could get out of the restraints if she wanted to. Could leave him standing there, hard and aching. But she was submitting to this fiction that she was trapped, because somehow, given the marriage—which she truly was trapped in—this felt like power.

  This choice.

  Feeling him begin to tremble as she took him in deep, feeling his power fracture as she licked him, tasted him.

  She was the one bound, but he couldn’t have walked away from her now if he wanted to, and she knew it.

  They both did.

  He held all the power outside this room, outside this moment. But she’d claimed her own here, and she was going to relish every second.

  She teased him. Tormented him.

  “Stand up,” he said, the words scraping his throat raw.

  She looked up at him, keeping her expression serene. “Are you not enjoying yourself?”

  “Stand up,” he commanded. “I want you to walk to the bed.”

  She stood slowly, her hands still held in that position of chosen obedience. Then with her eyes never leaving his, she walked slowly toward the bedroom. She didn’t turn away from him until she had to, and even then, she could feel his gaze burning into her. Lighting a fire inside of her.

  Whatever this was, it was bigger than them both.

  Because he hated her father, and whether or not the reasons that he hated James Maxfield were strictly true or not, the fact was he did.

  And she didn’t get the impression that he was excited to find himself sexually obsessed with her. But he was.

  She actually believed that what he wanted from her in terms of the winery was separate from him wanting her body, because this kind of intensity couldn’t be faked.

  And most important, it wasn’t only on his side.

  That had humiliated her at first.

  The realization that she had been utterly captivated by this man, even while he was engaged in a charade.

  But the fact of the matter was, he was just as enthralled with her.

  They were both tangled in it.

  Whether they wanted to be or not.

  She climbed onto the bed, positioning herself on her back, her arms held straight down in front of her, covering her breasts, covering that space between her thighs. And she held that pose when he walked in.