Comfort Zone

Comfort Zone KJ Reed

Book three in the Come Together series.

He’s a lucky SOB, but Brice Winston’s life wasn’t always so easy. His struggle to survive at an early age turned him into a man who needs control—both in and out of the bedroom. Always careful of the women he chooses to tangle in the sheets with, his need for dominance is never called into question. But he’s never let himself imagine a future with the one spitfire of a woman he’s always wanted. Mary Ellen Hall has wanted Brice since she knew what boys were good for. And she’s confident he desires her too. But he’s not making any moves, so it’s up to her to seduce him. Even as he responds to her body, his heart holds back. Mary Ellen isn’t about to accept any man by half measures. Brice is forced to make a choice—his hard-won control or the woman who pushes him out of his comfort zone.

Ellora’s Cave Publishing

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Comfort Zone ISBN 9781419935510 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED Comfort Zone Copyright © 2011 KJ Reed Edited by Grace Bradley Cover art by Syneca Photography by Syneca and Smart-foto/Shutterstock.com Model: Lorenzo Electronic book publication August 2011 The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502. Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously. The publisher and author(s) acknowledge the trademark status and trademark ownership of all trademarks, service marks and word marks mentioned in this book. The publisher does not have any control over, and does not assume any responsibility for, author or third-party Web sites or their content.

COMFORT ZONE KJ Reed

Acknowledgments I have to thank Marguerite Labbe for reading through every one of the Come Together books. She had wonderful insight, and always cheered me on to push through. You’re a doll!

KJ Reed

Chapter One Brice straightened his suit jacket, hanging out with the other men from the bridal party, ushers included, in the small cabin just down the road from the gardens. The gardens where his baby sister would be getting married tomorrow. That was still a hard, painful fact to swallow. That she was not only old enough to date, but that she was pledging her life to another man. Yesterday she was chasing the camp dogs through the barns, scattering chickens in her wake. Clinging to his leg as she begged for a piggy-back ride. Following him all over the property, worshipping him like only a younger sibling could. The rehearsal was set to start in a few minutes, and Trav asked all the guys for a quick word before they began the practice processional. “Who am I walking down the aisle with?” Brice asked, playing with his tie just to have something to do with his hands. “My sister, Sarah. And you would have known that if you’d been paying any attention up to now,” Trav answered good-naturedly. Paying attention would have meant hearing her name repeatedly. Self-preservation was the key to making it through the weekend. “You lucky SOB. Walking the best girl down the aisle,” Pete said from across the cabin where he lounged across the bed. “We’ll all have to agree to disagree on the whole ‘best girl’ theory. We could be here all night arguing that one,” Trav said dryly. “Here, knock it off or you’ll strangle yourself.” He batted Brice’s hands away and went to work on the tie’s knot himself. “Can I just say what a relief it is to be wearing a simple suit to a wedding instead of my freaking dress uniform?” Pete asked.

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“It’s only the rehearsal,” Brice’s father pointed out easily. “But I’ll be wearing basically the same thing tomorrow. And thank God for that. I know chicks dig the dress blues and all—” “No talk of chicks when you’re dating my sister,” Trav warned. Pete continued without a hitch. “But, as I was about to say, the chick factor is no longer necessary. So comfort is appreciated.” Brice would love to have been comfortable. But as usual, faced with the prospect of spending several hours in Mary Ellen Hall’s presence with nowhere to go, no office to hide in, made him feel suffocated, like a block of concrete was sitting on his chest. Dayto-day was easier. She stuck to the stables, he stuck to his office. But now, mingling was a requirement. A social nicety he couldn’t ignore, not without embarrassing his family. Not only did he have to deal with his emotions, but he had to keep the entire battle from showing on his face. Thank God he had years of practice under his belt. “Okay, settle down everyone.” Trav stepped up onto a stool and raised his glass of water, adhering to the bride’s request that all drinking be held off until dinner. “I asked you guys to all meet me in here to just say a few quick words.” “Oh, he’s going to be mushy,” Pete muttered over Brice’s shoulder. “To my ushers, some of the greatest guys I had the pleasure of attending police academy with. Thanks for saving my ass when I needed it, and you’re welcome for when I saved yours.” Everyone chuckled, and the ushers lifted their glasses to acknowledge. “To Ariel’s father, Mr. Winston. You welcomed me into the fold from the minute we met. You’ve got an amazing family, and I’m blessed to be invited in so warmly. In addition, you raised one of the finest women I’ve ever known. So thank you for that.”

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“You’re a good man, Donovan,” came his father’s gruff reply. Brice knew the man was near tears, holding back as manfully as possible. The Winstons were an emotional bunch. “That was a nice touch,” Pete whispered, and Brice smiled. Pete was a cynic sometimes, but he knew the guy was good deep down. “To my best man, Peter Goodwin. What can I say about that ugly son of a bitch that hasn’t already been said?” “Go ahead. Praise my wonderful attributes. Sing to the heavens, man,” Pete joked, and received a snort back. “Right. Not quite. But I will say that you’ve been a brother to me, more than any blood brother could have been. Sometimes I’ve been proud of you. Sometimes I’ve wanted to beat you to the ground. But regardless, you always had my back. And I’ll miss your ugly ass when you head back to Cali with my sister. Whom,” he added with a point of the finger, “you had better take care of.” Pete said nothing, and Brice knew it was because he was at a loss for any joke. “And lastly, Brice. My other groomsman, and Ariel’s brother. You’ve been watching over her, helping her, protecting her since you were ten and she was six. All I can say is thanks, and I’ll do my best to keep up to the standards you set.” It was hard to raise his glass to that. Giving up the protective older-brother routine would be tough. But for Trav, he could do it. Now he just had the rest of the evening to get through. No small feat, thanks to one small woman. Mary Ellen.

***** Mary Ellen watched as her best friend recited her pretend vows to her almosthusband. In less than twenty-four hours, Ariel Winston would be Mrs. Travis Donovan.

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And standing there holding her fake bridal bouquet, pretty as always in a strapless sundress, she looked happier than Mary Ellen had ever seen her. Hot, boiling jealousy rolled through her, and she mentally stepped on it, grinding it to the ground. The maid of honor shouldn’t be a green-eyed bitch. That wasn’t fair to her or Ariel. Jealousy was a weak, selfish emotion, and Mary Ellen wasn’t a weak person. Selfish, sometimes. But not weak. Besides. She wasn’t jealous because of Trav. He was a great guy, one of the best. And Mary Ellen knew without a doubt her best friend would have the kind of marriage others dreamed about. But she didn’t want Trav for herself. No, it was the happiness itself she wanted. The connection with another. The ultimate belonging with one man. She glanced up as Ariel made a joke to the minister and caught the eye of the best man, Pete. He gave her a cheeky wink, then looked beyond her to the other bridesmaid who also happened to be his girlfriend, Sarah. Beyond Pete, she watched as the second groomsman, Brice, concentrated on the minister’s words. The entire wedding party was one big jumble of family. Sarah was Trav’s sister. Brice was Ariel’s brother. And Pete and Sarah were in love themselves. One big happy family. She stole another peek at Brice from the corner of her eye. Mostly happy, anyway. Always so serious, she mused. Quiet, reserved, taking everything in with soft eyes and an understanding smile, when he chose to use it. Which made him the perfect fit for his job as camp director, working with children who came from bad situations and just wanted one week to feel special, normal. His own background of being raised in foster care until he was adopted by the Winstons at age ten gave him a unique and important view of what these kids needed most. Mary Ellen loved that about him. His endless patience, willingness to go out of his way to make someone else comfortable and happy. To make someone else’s experience worthy. 9

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Of course, she was also a red-blooded woman. His tall, lean physique and dark eyes that went with his slightly-darker-than-tan skin tone didn’t hurt either. She was honest enough to admit his body alone would make her want him for a night or two of hotand-heavy sex. But she was also just as truthful to know it was his heart that made her want him forever. Too bad the dumbass refused to even give them a shot. She knew how he looked at her. How he snarled behind her back when she mentioned another man she’d been seeing. That he watched her, tracking her every move when nobody else was paying attention. And yet, he refused to even consider the thought of being involved with her. It was beyond Mary Ellen’s comprehension. “And this is the part where you’d kiss the bride and we can— Oh dear.” Trav, hearing those words, lost no time in grabbing Ariel, dipping her back and planting a passionate kiss on her lips. There were whistles, claps and laughs. And Mary Ellen couldn’t help but giggle a little herself. Her friend deserved happiness and a man who loved her more than life itself. And Ariel was going to get it with Trav. No doubt about that. The recessional, where she linked arms with Pete and joked with him down the aisle about how goofy the bride and groom were, was quickly over. The ceremony was going to be held outside in the gardens of Camp Tecumseh, the camp Ariel and Brice’s family owned. Though the casual reception would be held in the dining hall of the camp, tonight’s rehearsal dinner was at a much fancier establishment in town. Ariel raced back up to her as she let go of Pete’s arm and tossed her arms around her. “I can’t believe it’s here! Did you like it? Did it look nice? Do I need to change anything?”

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Mary Ellen smiled and hugged her friend back. “Yes, I liked it. Yes, it looked wonderful. And no, you don’t need to change anything.” Ariel pulled back and grinned. “Thanks. Everyone keeps telling me that it’s all going great. But who knows if they’re just trying to soothe the bride, you know? I knew you’d tell me if something was off.” Something’s definitely off. Your maid of honor is a horrible bitch, drowning in her own jealousy rather than feeling selflessly happy for you. “Nope. Everything really is great.” “Okay. Awesome.” Ariel’s smile dimmed a little. “How are things with my brother?” “Ariel,” Mary Ellen warned. “We’ve been over this. It’s over. I’ve given up hope that your brother will ever grow a clue and figure out what is apparently obvious to everyone else around him.” “But—” “No.” Mary Ellen rubbed Ariel’s arms, hoping that being firm wouldn’t be seen as crushing the bride’s spirits. “Sweetie, I love you. And you’re sweet to worry about me. But this is your wedding weekend, and you shouldn’t be spending it worrying about me and how I feel. I’m fine. Your brother and I are both mature adults. And we will both be okay this weekend. So don’t worry about matchmaking or anything. Everything will turn out great, and you will have the fabulous wedding you and Trav deserve.” Ariel took a deep breath and nodded. “All right. Sure. Thanks for that. Oh, one more thing before I catch up with Trav.” “What’s that?” “You’re riding over to the rehearsal dinner with Brice. Okaythanksbye!” She raced off as fast as she could in grass wearing heels before Mary Ellen could protest. Stuck in a car for almost an hour with the man who tormented her dreams, but refused to give her any hope for a future? Oh. Goodie.

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Ariel was so getting a re-gift for her wedding present.

***** If there was a hell, it would be this for him. Trapped in a car, stuck in traffic, with the one woman he wanted more than anything. And the one he couldn’t have. All while trying to make small talk and ignore the massive white elephant riding in the backseat. “She looks really happy,” Mary Ellen said, staring out into the line of cars ahead of them. “She is happy.” Excellent conversation skills, Brice. “Are you going to be able to let her go tomorrow?” Mary Ellen teased. “I know how much you hate the thought of giving her up.” Brice’s hands clenched on the wheel and his back teeth started to grind. She had no clue how close to the truth she was. “Trav is a good guy. I trust her with him.” Control. Something Brice didn’t yield with ease. Though he never truly controlled his sister, not in a dominating or oppressive way, he took it upon himself to look after her. To be her protector. From the moment he was brought into the Winston family at ten years old, he’d looked at that little girl, who stared back at him with such trusting, loving eyes, who would tell anyone that listened that she had a brand new big brother that she loved a whole lot…he’d sworn he would watch over her and never let anything harm her. And now he had to pass the torch. At least it was to a good, worthy man. Brice wasn’t sure he could have accepted it so easily otherwise. “You were always a great brother,” Mary Ellen said softly, as if reading his thoughts. “I remember when we were so young, and you used to let her ride on your back…she thought you were a god.” Her lips tilted upward. “I was jealous of her at first, wanting to have a big brother just like you. Or any sibling, for that matter. Then I was jealous for other reasons.” 12

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“Hmm?” he murmured absently, seeing an opening between two cars and merging closer to the exit he needed. “I was jealous of the attention you gave her, when I wanted you to look at me. Just…not as a sister.” Brice’s head whipped around to stare at her, just in time to watch her eyes widen with shock and her mouth form an “O” of horror. “Brice! Stop!” He slammed on the brakes seconds before they would have run into the car in front of them. His heart was thudding a mile a minute, and not just from the close call with the car. “Are you okay?” He unconsciously started reaching for her to check before pulling himself back. “Yeah, Brice. I’m fine. Are you? What was that all about?” “What did you say?” “I asked if you were okay.” He shook his head. “No. Before I hit the brakes.” Her fine, milky skin flushed and she looked straight ahead. “Uh, right. Just saying I used to be jealous of the attention you gave Ariel growing up.” Okay. Apparently the elephant was no longer being ignored. “Mary Ellen, I don’t know what to—” “No. It’s okay. I’d rather you just stop there, please.” She was chewing on her bottom lip, and he held back the urge to tell her to stop. To reach out and soothe the tormented flesh with his thumb. Or his tongue. But she was right. This line of thinking wasn’t going to lead to anything positive. Not for her, anyway. And eventually, not for him either. He’d been in love with Mary Ellen for as long as he’d known what love really was. The sweet, sassy best friend of his kid sister who was always hanging around the camp 13

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stables had tortured his adolescent mind, doing his best to keep his raging hormones in check. Just until she moves away for college, or some job somewhere. That’s what he kept telling himself. Survive. Then it’ll get easier. Joke was on him. She ended up graduating high school and taking over the stables at the camp. His own parents—unknowing traitors that they were—had hired the object of his unfortunate obsession to work in close proximity with him seven days a week. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I can’t really say more than that.” “You could. You just won’t,” was her tight reply. They rode the rest of the way to the restaurant in not-so-blissful silence.

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Chapter Two Brice watched Mary Ellen as she worked the room during the rehearsal dinner. From a distance, of course. Always from a distance. She was a natural. A social butterfly. She greeted the out-of-town guests who had been invited to dine with the wedding party and made them feel right at home. She introduced relatives of the bride to the groom’s “family”…most of whom weren’t blood related, but members of the police force or Marine Corps. And he took note as each group relaxed just a little when she strolled up to make conversation. He, on the other hand, preferred to sulk in corners and ignore most everyone. Okay, maybe not preferred, but it’s what was happening. He wasn’t a people-person to begin with. It’s why his job was administrative. Not the face of the camp. His current bad attitude—thanks to the strained drive—only made things worse. “You know, as my brother, you could at least make the effort to look happy. People are starting to wonder if you’re against my marrying Trav.” He looked down at his little sister. “Just tell them I’m an ass.” “Already did that. Please. Like I wouldn’t have jumped at the chance to use that line.” She waved the thought away. “So how was the drive over?” “Smooth. Real smooth transition, sis.” Brice took a sip of his water. He never touched alcohol. With his background, he was never even remotely tempted. “The ride could have gone better.” Ariel huffed and took his water glass for a sip of her own. “I don’t understand you two. You’re both amazing people, you obviously both have the hots for each other, and you’re both single. Right?” She shot him a sideways glance. “You’re not dating anyone special, are you?” He laughed, but the sound was hollow. “Am I ever?” 15

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Ariel shook her head. “So what’s the big problem?” “I don’t have a problem. You however…” He bumped her shoulder gently with his. “You are about to be blissfully married, and you think everyone else around you needs to get with the program and follow you down the aisle. Like some long, twisted game of follow the leader.” “Yes.” No hesitation on her answer. “Yes, you’re right. How silly of me to want the two people I love most in the world—minus my parents and the man I’m about to marry—to also be blissfully happy. How horrible of me. I should be ashamed. I can definitely see the problem in that.” Ignoring that, he took another sip of water. But it tasted metallic suddenly. His eyes tracked Mary Ellen as she bent down to grab a napkin she dropped. One tiny strap of her sundress dipped over her shoulder. He wanted to rip it with his teeth, watch the whole dress start to fall over her breasts, her hips. Pool on the ground at her feet while her eyes widened in— “Brice. Earth to brother.” “What?” “I said, is there a specific reason why you won’t go after her?” He sighed and looped an arm around her shoulder. She tucked into his side, comfortable as always with physical affection and love. She’d grown up in a house that cherished her, with hugs given just because. When Brice came to the Winstons’ home at age ten, he’d had to learn that hugs were okay. That physical touch wasn’t always painful or scary. “Maybe I don’t think I have the right to dump my past onto someone. Anyone.” It was as good an excuse as any. “You’re such an ass,” she replied, no heat. “I firmly believe that nurture will win out over anything you carry with you. You might not have legally been a Winston until you were ten. But you know how we feel. You were meant for our family from the start. So as far as we’re concerned, before ten didn’t exist.” 16

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“But—” “You’re a good man. And my favorite brother.” “Only brother,” he corrected, but smiled. “Same thing. So the point is, you’re good enough for her. Past be damned. And if you let the chance of what you want pass you by…well. Let’s just say that Damian becomes my favorite brother.” As she walked away, he said, “Damian is the barn cat.” “Exactly,” she sang without turning around.

***** “Sarah, you did an amazing job planning the rehearsal dinner.” As the group started to stretch and stand from their delicious meal, Sarah preened under the compliment from Ariel’s mother. “Thanks. I didn’t have to do much though. Ariel was the one who suggested the place. I only made the reservations and made sure everything was ready for us to show up.” “Aw, don’t say that. You were a big help.” Pete wrapped his arms around her from behind, dropped his chin to the top of her head. “And you helped set up the gardens, too, don’t forget.” Sarah smiled softly, and Mary Ellen again felt that pinch from the green-eyed monster. The nasty bastard. To combat the bitchy attitude she felt creeping up, she added, “Everything was awesome, Sarah.” While the out-of-town guests started to head for their cars, she retrieved her wrap from the coat closet off the private dining room they’d reserved for the dinner and began to pick up gift bags. Out of habit more than anything, she watched Brice as he made organized piles with the gifts. It was as if she could see his mind working. Heavy gifts here, bulky gifts there. Always organized, always in control. It drove her insane…in the super-hot, show-me-how-you-do-that sort of way. And she hated that.

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Time to gather the courage. Ironic really, that she had no problem approaching men she didn’t know in a bar. But the man she’d known since she was just a kid…scared the shit out of her. Not him as a person. Her fear of being rejected by him. Of the finality, once she made the leap. If he didn’t jump with her, it was over. There was no more “maybe” to cling to. Because if he outright said no, and she kept hoping, well that just made her pathetic. Didn’t it? But it was time. They’d been doing the “I want you, I can’t have you” dance since she was eighteen. And she was just tired. Time to end it, one way or another. As she bent down for another gift bag, she slipped one earring off and into her purse. Then she grabbed her load and followed the wedding party out to pack the presents into Trav’s car. “That’s the last one.” Pete shut the trunk with a flourish. “Nice idea having us and the other guests here tonight bring them now instead of tomorrow. One less thing to worry about on the big day.” “That was the plan,” Ariel chirped, then turned to Sarah and Mary Ellen. “Okay. Back to my cabin for some girls’ night fun.” Her eyes shone with mischief. “What time is the stripper showing up again?” Trav fake growled and lunged for her, but she darted out of reach with a laugh. “Just kidding! C’mon, Sarah. The boys have bonding of their own to do. Mary Ellen, you coming?” “Yeah. I just— No!” She reached up to touch her naked earlobe. “No, no, no.” Brice’s gaze was intense, observing every detail. “What’s wrong?” “My earring.” God, she felt so wrong lying, now that the idea started to play out. But she’d committed. Time to keep going. “I must have knocked it off when I put my wrap back on.” “We’ll help you look.” Ariel started toward the restaurant door.

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“Don’t.” The words came out a little sharper than she meant. She took a deep breath and tried for a softer approach. “I mean, the bride shouldn’t spend the night before her wedding looking around a restaurant for an earring. Go with Sarah, get the fun started, and I’ll be right behind you. Please,” she added when Ariel looked reluctant. “I don’t want to spoil your night.” “How will you get back to the camp?” Time to pull out the massive acting chops. She glanced at her watch, fiddled with it for a moment. “Plenty of time to call for a cab once I find it.” “No way. Brice, will you bring her home?” “Oh no, he’s got things to do.” Ariel gave her a look. “I’m not letting you just stay here alone. I’m sure he won’t mind helping you look.” She heard the deep sigh of reluctance to her left. And she refused to give him the satisfaction of looking over to see his face. Did he really have to act as if it were a death sentence? “Yeah,” he finally answered. “Go on ahead. I’m sure we won’t be very long.” Thank you sweet baby Jesus. She rushed over to hug the bride and pack her into Sarah’s car. “I’ll be there soon.” Hopefully not too soon. She waited until the guys took off in Trav’s car and the girls in Ariel’s before she turned and gave Brice a smile. “Thanks. Shouldn’t take too long.” Unless I’m doing something right. She walked back into the restaurant. The wait staff were leaving the private dining room with tubs full of plates and glassware. All the tables had been wiped down. “We’ll stay out of your way,” one server said as they ducked back through the doors. “You have the place until we close at midnight.” “We won’t be…here…that…long.” Brice sighed as the wait staff disappeared and the door shut with a snap. “Okay then. So where did you drop it?”

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She bit her lip against screaming out a confession. “I think in the coat closet.” He headed over to the small side room with the empty rack, head bent down. “Check the corners,” she said, following him as he started to concentrate in the back corner. He squatted down, one hand sweeping the carpet, back completely turned. She took a deep breath and closed the door behind her as quietly as she could. Now or never. With one final breath, she turned the lock on the door with a snick.

The sound of the lock was louder than a gunshot in Brice’s head. He looked back, found Mary Ellen leaning against the closed door. And for once, instead of the overly confident smirk she wore—her public face, he mentally called it—her expression was hesitant. Uncertain. As if she was second-guessing her decision. And she sure as hell should be. Trying to stay calm, he stood. “There’s no earring, is there?” She had the good grace to blush in the harsh overhead light. “It’s in my purse.” He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. God get him out of the closet before he did something monumentally stupid. Like strangle her. Or kiss her. Or both. Mary Ellen screwed her eyes tightly shut, and he watched while her lips moved in silent count. Those lips. The ones that haunted him. That he was dying to taste. To watch them form a sweet little “O” as she came around him. That he wanted to see wrapped around his cock as he had her on her knees in front of him. Falling under, submitting, letting him lead her in pleasure. Plenty of room for that in the closet, right? No. No, dammit, no. “Brice?” “Don’t say it.” “We need to solve this. For good. Now.” 20

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“Solve what?” Ignorance was always a blissful place to be, right? Even if it was complete bullshit. Her expression softened. “You know exactly what, you jerk. This thing. The attraction.” “What attraction?” More like what bullshit. Christ, the tiny room was electrified with it. Years. Years he’d avoided being in tight spots like this with her. Alone. Tempted beyond all reason. And now she was dangling a carrot right in front of his face. She took a step forward. “Brice. It’s my last try. You know I want you. I’ve wanted you since before you even knew I existed.” “I always knew you existed.” The words were out before he could stop them. Her smile grew and she took another step forward. “See? That’s progress. I know you want me too. Why can’t we give this a try?” Too many fucking reasons to count. He took a step back and bumped up against the back of the closet. That only seemed to amuse Mary Ellen more. She took one last step forward, her breasts almost brushing against his chest. “Why are you backing away? It’s just me, Brice. Mary Ellen.” “That’s exactly why. You’re you, and I’m me.” And didn’t that explain it all. He took a good grip on her tiny shoulders and held her at arm’s length. “We don’t mesh in any way.” She gave him a tiny smile, then pushed one of his wrists until his fingers brushed down her shoulder, taking the tiny strap of her dress with it. He watched, as if completely helpless to stop it, as his fingers traced down to her elbow, moving the neckline of her dress until one breast was almost free. And he broke. He whipped her around until she was cornered in the back of the closet. She landed against the wall with an oomph but said nothing. Jerking her arms up until he

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imprisoned her wrists with one hand, he studied her. Her face was flushed, her breasts were pushed out from arching her back, threatening to spill out. Her legs were tangled, ankles crossed, barely keeping her balance in her heels. The position was one of surrender. A captive waiting for her guard to make a decision. But the gleam in her eyes, the one that hinted at her true nature—her defiant nature—was still there. He ignored it and bent down to take her lips. Rough. She needed to know. He wasn’t a soft, gentle lover. Never had been. He waited for a struggle, for a whimper of fear. For a gasp or curse. Nothing. Nothing but her mouth giving under his, her head angling for him, lips parting in invitation. “Damn it.” He swept in to conquer her with another kiss. Deeper, harder, until he was sure she might feel the first sting of pain from the pressure. He let go of her wrists so she could push at him, slap him, somehow escape the assault. But she only wrapped around him as if he were a lifeline. Her tight, compact body molded against his until there wasn’t a breath between them. “More. Please, Brice.” She moaned against his neck, taking sweet little sucking bites of his skin. Her hands worked on the buttons of his suit jacket. She pushed at him, trying to knock him back against another wall. Trying to take control. No. “No.” There. Out loud that time. “Not gonna happen.” Can’t happen. He sidestepped until they were standing as far apart as possible in the small room. He watched the look of hurt, then anger pass over her face. Mary Ellen was always the most expressive person he’d ever known. “What the hell?” She dabbed at the corner of her mouth. He felt a moment of anger at himself. “Did I hurt you?” She paused then shook her head. But he saw her run her tongue over her gums, as if checking for blood.

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Just another reminder why they would never be anything more than…whatever they were. His desires had no place in her life. And he struggled too hard to keep his control around her. He opened the door, letting the light spill back in. “This can’t happen again.” Hands on her hips, she shook her head. “I’m not a mind reader. You care to tell me exactly why the hell not? I thought things were going pretty well there.” “I’ll go pull the car around. Take your time.” He shut the door behind him to give her a minute of privacy. And mentally shut the door on the small glimmer of hope he ever had in them.

***** “You stubborn jackass.” He couldn’t hear her anymore, but it felt good to say. Mary Ellen pulled the strap of her dress back up and dug through her purse for her earring. Finding her shawl, she picked it up and wrapped it over her arms and ran fingers through her short hair to fluff it back out. There. She was back in order. Mostly. Poised, confident, ready to face the world again. She let her back hit the wall and slid down until she was sitting on the carpet. And indulged herself in one quick round of quiet tears. Anyone would have been shocked to see them. She hadn’t cried in front of anyone since the second grade when she got kicked for the first time by a horse. Hurt like hell. But nobody took a crybaby seriously. Any tears she shed, she kept them to herself. Wiping a hand over her cheek, she practiced the mental pep talk again. You’re too good for him. If he doesn’t want you, it’s his loss. You gave it your best shot. Blah blah blah fucking blah. Not helping. Didn’t matter what perspective she used. The rejection still stung like a bitch.

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What warm-blooded man rejected a woman who was completely into him? And what’s more, the guy was into her! For years Brice had given her side glances, full of heat and longing. Snarled at any guy she hung around with. Sulked when she discussed a man she was dating. He was the definition of a dog in the manger. And yet. Here she was, sitting in a closet—alone—with her mascara running. This was definitely not how she envisioned the night ending. So what the hell was wrong with her? Not being vain, Mary Ellen still knew she was a decent-looking woman. Her body was proportional and tight thanks to all the heavy lifting she did in the stables. So what the hell was his whole you’re you and I’m me crap all about? Well, that was it then. Almost ten years she’d been existing with the heat between them always present. And she always had the chance of maybe. Maybe just got shot to shit. So time for a new game plan. She picked herself up—literally, off the ground—and straightened herself again. Brice didn’t deserve the satisfaction of seeing how upset she was. She would just hold her head high, keep her shoulders back and act as if nothing happened. No, of course she wasn’t devastated. That’s just silly. Though her lungs were still burning from her sob session, she took a deep breath and blew out slowly. Her head was pounding and her knees wanted to fold. But she wasn’t a folder. Full steam ahead. She opened the closet door and walked toward the parking lot, determined to not let him see her sweat.

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Chapter Three Mary Ellen held back tears as she watched her best friend marry the man of her dreams. The smile on Trav’s face when he first saw Ariel at the end of the aisle created in the camp garden was heart-melting. And Ariel’s permanent glow as she floated down the aisle on her father’s arm was breathtaking. But it was their quiet, solemn, handwritten vows for each other that nearly broke her down. It was her best friend. She was entitled to sniffle a little, right? But outright crying, no. She’d done enough of that in the past twenty-four hours, thank you very much. She watched—and gave a watery laugh—as Trav took hold of Ariel’s shoulders and dipped her old-Hollywood style before giving her a kiss that had every female heart sighing. Twenty minutes later, after helping the ushers direct guests to the camp banquet hall, she reported back to the decorated gazebo for photos. “Go ahead and take a spot to the right of the bride, darling.” The photographer half dragged her into position. To the right of Ariel, and directly in front of Brice. The man who had avoided her all day as if she were leprosy on a stick. Lovely. “Hold it. That’s great. Now everyone smile for me.” Mary Ellen held her breath and did her best to shove thoughts of the jerk aside. Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts. Smile. Except she couldn’t help but feel his suit jacket brush her back with every breath. And did he have to breathe so freaking loudly? “Okay, I’m going to have the bride and groom sit down on the steps there, and everyone lean in around them, like you’re framing them. Great, nice work.” “Can you see down my dress?” Sarah called out, making everyone laugh. “You’re looking good, sweetheart,” the photographer reassured her.

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“Ass,” Pete muttered. “Easy, buddy. He’s not poaching.” Trav shook his head with amusement. “Got the shot. Bridal party, you can relax and stand up for a sec while my assistant switches out the lights. Bride and groom, this way for a few couple shots while they fix the setup.” They all straightened and shook out their muscles after crouching in an uncomfortable position. Trav held out a hand and helped Ariel climb down the stairs, following the photographer to a bench surrounded by early flowers. Brice’s arm brushed her back more than once as they wiggled around, readjusting their clothing and bodies. She waited a beat, then two. Just let it go. Ignore it. Be the bigger person. She was never very good at being the bigger person. Whirling around, she poked her bouquet at Brice’s chest. “Do you have to breathe so hard?” His face went from shock to annoyance too quickly. “I’m not.” “You’re breathing down my neck, literally. Feels like I’m running with the bulls and one’s about to ram me up my ass.” Pete snickered and got an elbow from Sarah. Brice jerked his head toward them. “He’d know. Right?” Mary Ellen’s mouth dropped open all by itself. How could he… Why would he… “What the hell?” Sarah’s mouth dropped open. “Dude. Pull it back.” Pete shook his head. “Never mind.” Brice shrugged his shoulders, as if he hadn’t just said something completely rude and uncalled for. “No. I absolutely will not ‘never mind’. How dare you judge me? You don’t want me. You’ve made that abundantly clear to me in the past. While you’ve made playing

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the dog in the manger an art form, I’ve had a life. So please. Please forgive me for being with other guys— Sorry, Sarah.” “No problem,” she sang. “And not sitting up in some ivory tower, waiting for you to make a move that you’re never going to make.” Okay. She’d skipped straight over assertive and moved right on into shrill, bordering on crazy. Not her finest moment. Brice’s jaw clenched, and she would have sworn she saw one of his beautiful brown eyes twitch. But he said nothing. At least he didn’t deny it. Wouldn’t that have been a whopper of a lie. She turned on her heel and started down the gazebo steps. As she passed Ariel, she whispered an apology. Then the minute her heels hit the makeshift aisle, she took off at a speed walk. Sure, running might have been more dramatic, more point-proving. And it would have gotten her out of there much faster. But she was in heels, damn it. Practicality wins over drama.

***** What the hell? It was the only thing Brice could think of while he, once again, stood off in the shadows, watching other people socialize. This was becoming an uncomfortable habit. He caught himself in mid-scowl, wiped his face clean of any expression and glanced at the dance floor. There. That made him feel better already. His sister, dancing with her husband. Looking like someone lit a lantern inside her, she was glowing so much. Trav whirled her around until her skirts swished and tangled them both. They laughed, and she rested her cheek on his shoulder. His heart contracted a little, both in joy and sorrow. She wasn’t his to protect anymore. Wasn’t his to watch over, keep safe. Something he’d vowed to do since she 27

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was six years old, and looked up at him with those big eyes and put one sticky hand in his and said he was home. But she was happy. Happier than he’d ever seen her before. And he refused to ruin her day by acting like an ass. He’d already played that card earlier, during pictures. Making his way over to the bridal party’s table, he squatted down next to Sarah’s chair. In a low voice, he said, “I’m sorry about earlier.” “Hmm?” She kept her eyes trained on her brother, Trav, a small smile tilting her lips. “During the photos. Bringing up past stuff that—” “It’s okay.” She turned a brilliant smile to him, and he breathed a sigh of relief. “Really, it is. I understand.” “Thanks.” He stood and held out a hand. “Dance?” “Love to.” They walked to the dance floor and found a little piece all for themselves. She wasn’t the most graceful, but she made up for it in enthusiasm and soon had him smiling. Even a glance to his left to see Mary Ellen dancing with Pete didn’t dampen his spirits. Sure, they had a past. But Pete was with Sarah now, and any fool could see he wasn’t giving Sarah up. No threat. Wait. No threat? To what? He didn’t want her. Christ, what a lie. Pete spun Mary Ellen out, only to be caught by one of the ushers. Trav’s cop buddy, Taylor. Pete took over dancing with Brice and Ariel’s mother and Mary Ellen stayed with Taylor. “You’ll have to see a dentist soon.” “Huh?” Brice looked down to see Sarah looking at him with a gleam in her eye. “Your back teeth are grinding so much, you’re about to lose them. You might want to do something about that.” 28

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“I don’t grind my teeth.” “I meant that.” She nodded her head toward the oh-so-happy dancing couple of Mary Ellen and Taylor. “Listen, I’m the new kid in this equation. So I might be way off. But from where I stand, you’re jonesing for her like an addict. Why do you keep denying yourself?” Like an addict. Apt description. Much like any drug, he was terrified if he had a taste of Mary Ellen, he’d be hooked for life. “Long story.” It was the most polite way he could think of to evade. “Which is social code for ‘shut your trap, Sarah.’” He started to deny it but she shook her head with a smile. “I can do that. Just one more thing before I do. She’s hurting from want, too. Seems like if you’ll both be miserable apart, you might as well take a chance at being miserable together. And who knows? Maybe the misery will cancel out and you’ll actually be happy.” With that, she did a surprisingly agile spin under his arm and walked toward the bar, abandoning him on the dance floor with his thoughts. Maybe the misery will cancel out. Definitely a new way of looking at things. He walked back to sit down at the head table and observe. Mary Ellen’s laughter was clear as a bell, ringing out over the music as Taylor twirled her around the floor. They swayed, bumped into someone, laughed and apologized and kept right on going. Too wrapped up in their own little world to notice where they were going. His arm started to burn and he realized his hand was clenched into a tight fist. Wiping his palms over his pants forced them to relax. Shit. She was right. He really was the dog in the manger. And he’d known it for years. Just never done anything about it. Because you don’t have the right. Did he? Maybe the misery will cancel out.

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Fuck. Was that what he wanted? Did he really want Mary Ellen enough to ignore what he thought—or at least had thought up to now—was the best thing for them? Sarah might have had the right of it. If they were both upset, was it for the best? He stood without realizing it, then found himself walking toward where Mary Ellen and Taylor were swaying, almost as if someone else was controlling his body. Just a puppet on a string, guided by his desire. “Hey, buddy.” Taylor looked up, lopsided grin on his face. Completely unaware he was mere moments from a shoving match. “Cutting in.” The grin slipped a little and he looked down at Mary Ellen. “Well, I mean if—” “Thanks.” He took advantage of the other man’s slow move and stepped between them, hauling Mary Ellen to the other side of the floor. “It’s okay, Taylor. Thanks for the dance!” she called over his shoulder. In a lower voice, she added, “You’re acting like an ass. This is your sister’s wedding. Could you at least behave until the end of the night?” Behave? Not likely. Not likely at all, as long as she was within a hundred yards. He swallowed the reply. “I’m apologizing. Is that behaving?” Her green eyes widened almost comically. “I’m sorry, I must have heard you wrong. Could you repeat that?” “You didn’t hear wrong.” Because he could, because it was completely appropriate and mostly because he wanted to, Brice tightened his arm and brought her closer. When she didn’t protest, he did it again, until her breasts flattened against his chest. He knew, with her miniature stature, if she wasn’t wearing those freakishly sexy high heels, it’d be more like his stomach. She was so tiny, at five foot three. He towered over her by a foot. Of course, her attitude didn’t match her tiny stature. Her eyes narrowed. “Apologizing for what?”

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He sighed. Of course she wouldn’t let this pass graciously. “For being an ass this afternoon.” She tilted an eyebrow. “Okay, fine. An ass in general.” Her smile warmed him from the core out. “Thank you. That means a lot.” This part would be a little harder. “You were right.” Okay. He didn’t choke on the words. That was a good sign. Mary Ellen stumbled a little, falling deeper into his arms. “I was what?” “Right, dammit. Stop that. I know you can hear me.” Steam. Any minute, steam was going to come pouring out of his ears. “Not that I don’t agree, because I like to think I’m always right, but what was I right about this time?” “You’re such a smartass.” He couldn’t help smiling. “It’s just a part of my charm,” she said with a thick, fake Southern accent. “Uh huh.” But would that “charm” make the possibility of more between them impossible? He turned her until they came up against the side of the dining hall’s wall, hidden in the shadows created by the low lighting. “I’ve been…we’ll say a dog.” In the manger. “About some things over the years. But I want it to change.” “Your attitude?” He spun until her back was flat against the wall. Placing his hands next to her head, he caged her in. “No. The situation.” Her breath hitched. “What does that mean?” Now or never. “I want out of the manger.” She didn’t move, didn’t breathe for almost a full minute. Shit. He’d read it wrong. Or she gave him mixed signals. Faced with the possibility, she was going to back down. And he’d made a fool out of himself. 31

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No big deal. He only had to face her every single day at work. One small, delicate hand slid under his suit jacket, laid flat over his stomach. The heat burned though his shirt and his own breath caught in his throat. “So what do you want to be?” “Alpha.”

He was going to kiss her. In public. Sort of. Where anyone could see them. If they looked into the shadows. Most importantly, if he made the first move, he wouldn’t be able to deny the whatever was between them any longer. Oh God, yes please. But instead, he rolled away from her body, leaving her cold and confused. She was about to sneer, call him a tease, when he wrapped one long-fingered hand around her arm and tugged gently. “Let’s go.” Go? What the… “Where?” She had to walk or risk falling flat on her face in her platform peep-toe heels. “Back to my cabin.” Oh. Oooooh. “Shouldn’t we tell someone—” “We can find them later. We know where they live. Trust me, they won’t miss us.” He stayed close to the wall, in the shadows, and led her out the side door, avoiding any other early departing guests. The moment they stepped outside, he shrugged out of his coat and draped it around her. She wanted to protest, but she was shivering. No wonder he thought she was cold. So she shut her mouth and wrapped the jacket around her shoulders. But although the night air was cooler than during the day, that wasn’t what had her body quivering. Anticipation. The possibility of what was to come.

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She was a healthy single girl with a healthy appetite for sex. When she wanted it, she could usually find it. But she’d never felt the thrill, the eagerness, the hope like she felt now. Because she’d never been with Brice. Never even stood a chance. Not until now. “Why now?” The question stopped him dead in his tracks. “What do you mean, why now?” “I mean, why have you changed your mind all of a sudden? We’ve been doing this avoidance thing for years now. But suddenly it’s different?” She waited while he thought. His face was almost like a mirror into his mind, showing how it was approaching the question from every angle until he found one he liked most. And it really scared her how much the answer mattered. “Can we just say that someone said something that really made me think, very hard, about the situation?” Well, that was better than he was just horny and he thought she’d say yes. So she nodded and started to walk. But the gravel made for slow going. The heels in gravel combined with how short her legs were compared to Brice’s made for awkward going. “Can you slow down a little?” she panted as she almost fell. Damn rocks. “Slow down?” He almost looked pained at the thought, but then glanced at the ground. “Oh damn. Sorry.” Without another word, he bent over and picked her up. “Whoa, holy hell. You didn’t have to carry me.” “Please. You’re a lightweight. If you haven’t noticed, you’re not much heavier than a feather.” Okay, she knew she was small, but that was…well, actually that was kind of a compliment. She’d take it. Looping her arms around his neck, she breathed in his scent. Understated woodsy aftershave, with just the smallest hint of soap. Clean, simple, Brice.

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She rooted a little farther, until she nosed up against the skin of his neck. Where his smell was more strong. A tingle started low in her belly when he groaned. “Keep doing that and we aren’t going to make it to the cabin.” “I wouldn’t complain.” Actually, now that he mentioned it, that stump over there looked pretty comfortable. “We both would when you ripped this dress to shreds and I never got the grass stains out of my suit.” Right. Not exactly dressed for an in-the-woods sexathon. “Good point.” “Besides. We’re almost there.” He weaved between two cabins to reach his own, set back a little way from the normal rows. While all the cabins that the staff lived in—most just during the summer months, but a few permanently—were removed from where campers and other visitors slept, his was the farthest. Where she knew he liked it. He unlocked, opened the door and closed it behind him before setting her on her feet. When he turned to lock the door once more, it felt like the end of a chapter. The one titled We Will Pretend Nothing Is Going on Here. Of course, the new chapter was titled Holy Shit, We’re Really Doing This. Brice slid his hands along her collarbone, over her shoulders until the jacket dropped onto the floor. Though the cabin was warm, she still couldn’t stop her body’s shivers. He rubbed her arms from elbow to shoulder. “Still cold? I could shut the windows if you don’t want the air coming in.” She shook her head. “That’s not it. I’m just running on adrenaline right now.” He nodded. That was the beauty of being in this position with someone who knew you so well. You didn’t have to elaborate. “You’re scared. Aren’t you?” And there was the crappy part about being in this position with someone who knew you so well. They could see things you’d rather were invisible.

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He took her hand and led her to the center of the room. Put his arms around her and just rocked. Like they were still dancing at the reception. Sweetness. It wasn’t what she expected. But she liked it. “This is nice.” “Mmm. I need to say something before we get started.” Oh no. Nothing good could come from whatever he was about to say. She leaned back enough to look up into his face. With the moonlight behind him, she struggled to make out his features. But no hint of what was to come showed, at least as far as she could tell. Brice was the master of burying whatever he was feeling. He stared back for a moment. Then he shook his head. “Not really important right now.” She wasn’t sure that was the truth, but nodded anyway. Why complicate things more than necessary? “So, what is important?” “You.” He tugged on the zipper of her dress until it started to move. “Getting out of this dress.” The zipper went lower until his fingers brushed the small of her back. “And onto the bed.” He bent his head and kissed her neck. “Where I can do whatever I want with you.” She tried to speak, but nothing came out but a croak. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Ah. Good plan.” He lifted his head and smiled down at her, white teeth gleaming in the dark. “You think?”

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Chapter Four Mary Ellen’s breath caught as the slick fabric of the dress slithered to the floor, leaving her in just the white thong and heels. For the first time in, well, ever, she felt nervous. Self-conscious. And an annoying urge to shield her chest from Brice’s gaze, even as his attention dampened the thong. “Christ.” His voice was hoarse and he reached out with almost reverent hesitancy. One hand covered each breast. The sight of his darker hands over her milky skin made her shiver with excitement. She wanted to reach up, undo his tie. Strip him down so he was as vulnerable as she was. But her arms remained useless by her sides. Damn it. She was always the aggressor. She chased after the guy she wanted, and she let them go when she was finished. So why now, of all times, was she about to slip into some shy, virginal maiden routine? Because it matters. “I could stand here and look at you all night.” He kissed the side of her neck, hands kneading her breasts. There were echoing tugs low in her belly. “This body has been driving me crazy for years.” “And here I thought it was my smartass personality.” She held back a moan when he bit on her collarbone. “Your smartass nature pushed me well past crazy long ago.” That sounded closer to the truth. She reached up and started to undo his tie but one large hand clamped around hers. “No.”

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She wiggled the knot playfully. “Come on, now. You’ll have to get naked eventually. That’s usually how this thing works.” “When I’m ready.” Maybe he was trying to slow them down a little. But she was about to burn up with need. How could he stay so calm? “I’m naked and you’re still dressed. Give a girl a chance, huh?” His eyes dropped to her heels, then her thong, which was growing more wet by the minute. “Not quite naked. Still wearing a few things.” He picked her up by the waist and tossed her on the bed. “I’ll fix that though.” She reached down to the elastic bands to pull her underwear off, but he growled. “Let me.” A man with a plan. No problem there. She lounged back and watched him undress. No hardship there, either. First the suit jacket, then the tie. She’d seen him without a shirt on countless times. Mostly when he was pulling lifeguard duty at the camp lake during the summer, or working on the landscaping. Watching sweat run down his hard, light-brown chest, down the six-pack abs, and dip into the waistband of his workout shorts or swim trunks had always been a nice, private thrill for her. But the intimacy of the moment, him unbuttoning his dress shirt, baring his chest in the quiet of the cabin, made breathing a little difficult. They were taking a step that couldn’t be undone. Did she still want it? Want him? Oh God yes.

He could do this. Stay cool, relaxed, and do this. Not fly out of control, not push too hard. She was putty in his hands. Wasn’t even putting up a token of a fight. Maybe— holy shit, maybe—this could work.

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Could he still keep his cool, all the way, even when she was clawing the sheets? Or would she fight him every step of the way for dominance in bed, just like she did every day at work? Would the sight of her beneath him snap him, make him lose it? This was definitely a new problem for him. Then again, every woman he’d been with before knew the rules upfront. He had the upper hand, complete control, and if they didn’t like it, there’s the door. They were just women. His life wouldn’t end if one left. But this was Mary Ellen. He wasn’t ready to explain his driving need for authority, for control at all times in the bedroom. And now that they were taking this massive step forward, going back wasn’t an option. Tread carefully. And keep the upper hand. “You can touch, you know.” “Huh?” He paused, thumbs hooked in his waistband. A soft smile curved her lips, but he wasn’t fooled. Even when she looked sweet as honeysuckle, Mary Ellen was still sassy as a snapdragon. “You’re staring at me like you can’t remember what I’m doing here.” He snapped out of his own musings. He toed off his shoes and socks then unbuckled and unzipped his pants, but left them on. Easiest way to keep control and not lose it is to keep as many barriers between him and his partner. Physical and emotional. Mary Ellen wasn’t having it. “Get these off.” She laughed as she reached for his waistband and tugged until he willingly fell over her, forearms bracing him inches above her body. The laughter died from her eyes as he captured her wrist and brought it above her head, mirroring the movement with her other arm. Her breasts thrust up, her shoulders rolled back, and her mouth shaped into a pretty “O”. “These stay here. Always.”

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He caught the hint of defiance in her eyes and didn’t give her time to speak. He kept her mouth busy, sweeping in for a kiss to steal her thoughts. She responded immediately, using her tongue to sweep in, learn him, taste him. Damn, why had he held off for so long on getting here? He released her wrists with one hand and ran it down her side. She shivered, as if his touch made her cold, and her nipples puckered against his chest. Well, if they wanted attention, who was he to deny? The moment the tight bud hit his mouth, she moaned as if his touch was painful. He pulled back. “Did I hurt—” “No. Don’t stop.” Not pain. Pleasure. “Ask nicely.” She bared her teeth at him in defiance. He blew over her breast, watched the tip distend farther, goosebumps forming on her silky skin. “Bastard. Please.” The words came through her teeth, and she almost popped her shoulder out of place rolling up to meet his mouth with her chest. Not the most submissive of poses, but he wasn’t going to quibble. He nipped her once as a reminder the one on top was in charge and sucked her into his mouth. She moaned again, rolling back to the bed and sighing with satisfaction. Skimming down her ribs, over her hip, he fingered the little strip of lace that was supposedly called underwear. “Off. Oh God. Take them off,” she added, almost as a plea. “Please.” He was about to, but doing so now would only reinforce her idea that she had some sort of control in the game. So instead, he switched breasts and toyed with her more. She tasted like cream. How did she do that? The mysteries of a woman.

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His fingers teased her through the lace, drawing light lines down her pussy. Barely any pressure. He could feel the dampness soaking through the fabric, couldn’t wait to explore further. But he was prepared to hold off. Not his favorite idea, when he was hard enough to drive nails through brick. But he would. She groaned, grunted, wiggled. But stayed silent. Good. Time to reward them both for their patience. He tugged and flicked his wrists until the lace was down around her knees. He worked his way down her body until his head was between her thighs. Small adjustments draped her legs over his shoulders, panties dangling from one ankle. She started to reach down. “Heels. Gotta unbuckle.” “Leave them on.” She stared at him, eyes wide as an owl. Her hair was spiked up on one side, starting to flatten on the other. “What? Why?” He gave her a smile, brief and quick. “’Cause when I’m pounding into you, you’re gonna want the traction.” “Oh,” she breathed and dropped her head back. He stared at her hard, and she brought her arms back over her head. Somewhere, Mary Ellen had turned into the perfect bedmate. And he wasn’t about to argue. Dipping down, he paused right above her wet center, taking a moment. He could almost see her quivering with anticipation. One long, slow lick up the seam of her pussy, pausing just a split second over her clit, confirmed it. She wanted it hard and fast. So he would take his time. Another long pass with his tongue, just to please himself, and then he truly dug in for her. Her hips rolled with his pattern, trying to figure it out, to predict his movements. It only made him all the more random. If she wanted a pattern, he’d give her none. Mary Ellen was the textbook definition of instant gratification. If she wanted

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it a certain way, he could almost guarantee it was because it was her fastest path to orgasm. This was a slow burn, not a flash fire. Because he said so. He circled her clit, dipped down low to thrust in deep, then back up to her sensitive nub. Fingers, one then two, deep inside anchored her, confused her, kept her guessing. Off balance. Because she needed it. And it was a struggle. He could see it written all over her face. In the way her body moved. She was the aggressor. She was the one calling shots. That was her comfort zone. Not anymore. Her heels scratched his back. Didn’t care. Couldn’t care. He judged the timing, then concentrated on her clit, sucking and flicking his tongue in the pattern she’d been silently begging for until her legs tightened around him, her body vibrated and she screamed. Her palms pounded against the headboard until she lost strength and he slowed, then stopped his tongue. She lifted her head, then dropped it back to the pillow. As if the simple effort was too much. He crawled back up her body and found her face almost serenely peaceful. Very un-Mary Ellen-like. Her lashes fluttered up and she smiled. “That was…yeah.” She drifted back off, eyes closing again as if keeping them open was too much effort. Brice always enjoyed the look of a well-loved woman. Content, satisfied, sated. But seeing that expression on Mary Ellen’s face—and knowing he was the one who put it there—did something to his chest that burned. The good sort of pain, the type of pain he wouldn’t mind growing accustomed to. And he was getting ahead of himself. Mind slipping, which he never let happen before. Couldn’t lose it just because it was Mary Ellen. Especially because it was her. He reached into his nightstand for the unopened box of condoms.

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Cause yeah, it’d been that long. He was discerning, and half the time he couldn’t think for wanting to strangle her anyway. Who can find satisfaction in a woman when another one was always on his mind? She murmured and wiggled a little under him, her belly brushing against his hard cock. He sucked in a breath. But when her arms started to drift down, he gently touched her elbows and she raised them back up. Almost too easy. Which made him more alert as he rolled on protection. Mary Ellen never made anything easy on purpose. But for now, he could enjoy it. Nuzzling into the warm skin of her neck, he wrapped her legs around his back and pushed in. Her pussy was wet—so wet—warm and waiting for him. She shifted when he hit a moment of resistance, angling her hips to give him better access. And as he slid all the way in, cock completely surrounded by hot woman, she sighed as if she’d been handed the key to the Pearly Gates. “You still with me?” “Mmm hmm. All the way.” She opened her eyes again, staring right at him. And for a moment, the sincerity of her gaze took him aback. It meant something to her too. A hell of a lot. Brice had known Mary Ellen since she had knobby, scabby knees. Knew her every facial expression. And as the thought of how much it meant to them both broke over him, he lost his tentative hold on his control. Bucking forward, he surged farther in still, deep as he could, and ignored her gasp. If it hurt, she’d tell him. Fuck reserve. He picked a rhythm that worked, made him sweat, made him forget to take care of her. Made him come. With a grunt for warning, his climax slammed into him. Faintly, he felt her pussy convulsing around him, drawing the ecstasy out longer than he’d ever experienced before. And all he could think was…thank God she got there by herself, because he damn sure wasn’t capable of carrying her over the orgasmic finish line anymore. 42

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With the last little bit of consciousness, he rolled to the left to avoid squishing her like a bug. She followed and wound her arms around his back. “I scratched you,” she mumbled into his chest. He patted her arm, then slipped into a deep, extremely satisfied sleep.

***** Mary Ellen woke slowly. Warmth coated her left side. Odd, she was normally so cold in the… Oh my God. Bridesmaid dress. Heels. Brice. Between her legs. That very spot tingled with the memory. Oh God, how had she forgotten even for a second? The warmth next to her snored, and she bit back a giddy smile. Brice was still dead to the world. She shifted to see the clock and he didn’t twitch. Seeing it was already past the normal time she would head to work, she used her stealth ninja skills to slip out of bed. Not that she had to bother. A bull horn announcing her intentions wouldn’t have woken him up. Debating her wardrobe options—and not wanting to put her bridesmaid dress back on—she did a quick inventory of Brice’s clothing. One zip-up hoodie and basketball shorts—which went almost to her ankles—later, she slipped her heels back on. Not the cutest look, workout clothes with super-high heels. But a girl had to improvise. One more glance to see if Brice was close to waking up—big negative there—and she slipped out the door and made a break for her own cabin. Luckily it was still too early for anyone else to be up after such a late night to see her looking like a mile of death and doing the walk of shame. Her babies would already be missing her though. She entered her cabin, changed and headed back out. The moment she could smell straw and horse, the tension leaked out of her shoulders. Tension she hadn’t known was there. 43

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“Guess I wasn’t as cool as I thought,” she said to Fred, first horse to poke his head out of his stall. She gave him a good scratch between the ears. “Makes sense that I’d be nervous about it, right? I mean, how was I supposed to feel? Years of wanting him, being rebuffed, and then suddenly it happens. That’s a lot to take in.” Fred nickered softly and tossed his head. “Oh, what do you know? You were gelded in the nineties.” With one last pat she moved on to give some love to Ethel, Fred’s next-stall neighbor. She’d given Jessica, one of the local teens that helped out at the stable, the day off, so she was alone with her babies and her thoughts. Dangerous, really. To avoid overthinking, she turned on the radio in the stable office to her favorite eighties station. She sang some Pat Benatar while she mucked out the stalls, shook her ass to White Snake while she groomed Ethel and crooned along with Aerosmith as she gave Fred some love. But she had to turn the tunes off once she slipped into the office to fill out order forms. For once, she missed Jessica’s teenage chatter and Buck’s semi-dirty jokes. At least they would have cut through the silence and given her something to focus on. After about ten useless minutes staring at the order form, she tossed down her pen with a grunt. No helping it, apparently. The memory of Brice’s face over hers, his weight pressing her into the bed, her arms almost captive above her, leaving her with the feeling of helplessness… The newness of not being in charge had been exhilarating. Putting that trust in Brice for the night, knowing she was safe and cherished and taken care of, had been almost as powerful a feeling as knowing she was the one calling all the shots. She squeezed her legs together to cut off the throbbing. Okay, she had to stop that or she’d burst into flames in the office chair. She gave up attempting productivity and saddled Cosby. Of the camp horses, he was one of the few with a kick in his step. Most were older, gentle as a butterfly, and placid as a lake. If Fred could get up past a trot, she’d die of shock. Perfect for youngsters still learning the reins. 44

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Mary Ellen convinced the Winstons that the camp needed at least a few younger horses that could give some of the older children more of a challenge. And also those adults from the business retreats they hosted through the off-season. But truth to tell, she truly enjoyed taking the younger horses out for rides herself. She rationalized that they needed the exercise, and that was true. But a good, hardpaced ride in the crisp air could clear her head like nothing else. And a clear head was exactly what she needed, so she guided Cosby toward the trails that ran the perimeter of the camp property and would give them a nice, long, uninterrupted ride. Only problem with that is the rocking of the saddle rubbed places that reminded her too much of the night before. Damn it. Could she not just have five minutes of mental peace? She urged Cosby into a trot, then a full gallop, hoping speed would do the trick. Ninety minutes later, they returned sweaty and relaxed. But the feeling wasn’t going to last. Brice watched her approach, one shoulder propped against the stable door, waiting.

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Chapter Five She was unbelievable. Brice watched as she maneuvered the horse up to a trough and hopped down. Mary Ellen was a small woman, just as far as women went. But standing next to a horse, she was downright tiny. Almost fragile looking. “Hey!” When the horse gave her a nudge, she pushed back hard enough to jar the animal a few steps. “Watch yourself, mister. Manners.” The horse, for his part, looked suitably intimidated. Fragile. Riiight. Just another reminder Mary Ellen was someone who liked being in charge just as much as him. Which was why he held off as long as he had on making the move. They were two alphas, and Brice didn’t do the sharing control thing. But last night… Last night was something unbelievable. She’d immediately responded to his commands, giving no fight. Interest obvious. So maybe things were going to be looking up. She finished unsaddling the horse and passed the equipment to him. She smiled, but it wasn’t a full-out gesture. Was she upset? Full of regret? Ecstatic? Her expression gave him nothing to go off. “Hang this up for me while I get him settled?” “No problem.” The barn wasn’t his favorite place to be. Not having spent much time in the stable, horses were a little bit of a mystery to him. He couldn’t ride, didn’t know how to take care of them, and frankly, wasn’t all that interested. Mary Ellen, on the other hand, thought of the horses as her babies. As she passed by with the horse, he could have sworn it gave him the evil eye. Babies. Right. Half-ton babies that bit and kicked.

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She led the horse into the farthest stall, so he hefted the saddle up and walked into the tack room. At least this he could do without problems. He hung the bridle up, draped the saddle in place and folded the blanket. At the sound behind him, he turned. Mary Ellen stood, back against the closed door, smile on her face. “Something amusing?” He dropped the blanket down. “Just watching you, in your nice khakis and business shoes, getting all dusty in my barn. It’s cute.” Cute. He hadn’t been cute since the fourth grade. With a scowl he looked around her. “Are you finished with work?” She shook her head. “Taking a break. I need to relax.” He waited a moment, but she closed the door. “Do you want to grab some lunch?” “Nope.” She took his hand and pulled him to her. “I want to grab some you.” His cock instantly hardened at the suggestion. “So let’s head on over to my place and we’ll—” His words cut off when she grabbed the back of his neck and yanked him down for a kiss. Taken off guard, he jerked in surprise, giving her the leverage she needed to turn him around and press his back against the door. “You sleep like a rock,” she said between kisses. “What?” She moved down to his jaw, and her fingers walked their way over his chest. How was he supposed to follow any train of thought with her creeping toward his belt? She chuckled. How could someone so tiny have such a husky, thick laugh? It shot lust straight through his body. “I was hoping for an encore this morning, but that died a quick death when I saw how deeply you were asleep.”

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“Ah.” Intelligent, Brice. She dipped one finger between his stomach and waistband and he sucked in a breath. “Yup, when I’m out, I’m out.” She cupped his crotch. “I don’t think anyone’s out. Not yet anyway.” Oh good Christ, he was reaching a breaking point. “If you keep that up—” “What? You’ll have to teach me a lesson?” She raised her head, lips in a fake pout. “Shame on me.” Her eyes gleamed as she squeezed—hard—and his balls tightened with eagerness. “Back to my cabin,” he managed to get out while her tongue and teeth played with his earlobe. “What’s wrong with here? I’m all alone today, no helpers.” Here? It was the stable, for the love of… Oh dear God. Her tongue rimmed his ear and she purred. Fingers scratched his scalp, her other hand massaged him below the belt. Too many sensations to process. Brice was strictly a sex-is-for-bed kind of person. Someone invented comfortable mattresses for a reason. But reason abandoned him as he lifted Mary Ellen by the butt, deposited her on the nearest table and knocked off a few pieces of metal to fall on the concrete floor. His fingers fumbled with the snap of her jeans, and she pushed his hands aside to do it herself. “You,” she gasped when he nipped her jaw. “Get those off.” His body’s immediate willingness to respond and react to her command gave him pause. But the end result would be the same if she’d asked him or not. Reaching quickly for his wallet, he snagged the just-in-case foil square and let his khakis drop to his knees, along with his boxers. Looking back up, smooth, cream-colored thighs filled his vision as they opened wide for him. Her pussy was already wet, he could tell by sight, and he almost dropped the condom in his haste. Mary Ellen laughed, as usual always able to find humor in any situation. “I like that you want me enough to lose your cool sometimes.”

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The words were like a cool shower, halting his lust in its fiery tracks. He was about to lose control. Couldn’t let it happen. Wouldn’t. They’d both lose out if he did.

Mary Ellen held out her hands, wanting him to take her fast, hard. As if he couldn’t wait another minute. Like a stud and his mare. All passion, no common sense. Because it was real then. It was true and uncomplicated and she believed it. Brice pulled her to the edge, so her ass was almost off the table. She hadn’t pulled off her boots or jeans, and they weighed like manacles around her ankles, keeping her legs closer together than she wanted. “Take me fast, Brice.” She kept her voice low, not wanting to break the moment with harsh, loud sounds. Just their breath and the sounds of their movement filled the small room, like their own private universe. Invitation only. But instead of following her direction, he slowed down. Face serious, eyes intense, he nuzzled under her jaw, by her pulse. “Brice. Please,” she whispered, lifting her hips as much as she could for contact. But the angle worked against her, and she had little control. Again. Last time, it had been her hands she wasn’t allowed to use. This time, her legs were rendered useless. Coincidence? His fingers grazed the outside of her pussy, and thoughts of last time flew from her mind. Tender, thoughtful strokes outlining between her legs, butterfly-light caresses. “Say it again.” His fingertips paused, close to her entrance. It took a moment to rack her slowly melting brain for what he wanted. “Please. Brice.” She bit her lip to hold back a moan as two fingers entered her fast, then froze. She pulsed around him, wanting him to move. But he stayed still, working his way down her collarbone to the other side of her neck.

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Finally, he crooked his fingers, hitting just the right spot to give her a small teaser of an orgasm. It was almost more frustrating than satisfying, and the smug smile he wore said he knew exactly why she growled. But he pulled his fingers out and positioned his cock, grazing over her clit before dipping in an inch. Once more she tried to lift her hips. But with no way to anchor her heels, since her legs weren’t long enough to touch the floor, she hadn’t a chance. “Brice.” He sucked hard on the skin above her breast, and she knew it’d leave a red mark. Annoyance warred with pleasure at the thought of being marked. By him. For him. Then he sank in farther and she forgot the mark entirely. “Faster, please.” Okay, so she was begging. It’d come to that. She would forgive him if he’d just…fucking…move! Finally he drifted in all the way, filling her completely. “You need to relax, remember?” She squeezed his biceps. “I thought a nice, sweaty session would do that for me. Not exactly sweating here.” “Instead, you can lay back and let me do the work. I don’t mind.” But she did. Didn’t she? As he pulled out, pushed back in and rotated his hips, she stopped caring. Oh God, that felt good. “Your shoes left marks on my back,” he whispered in her ear. “Sorry,” she gasped out when he circled again, stroking every nerve in her pussy. “I liked seeing them. Mark me anytime.” With that, he sped up, pushing them both to the brink, and then they jumped off together. She convulsed, arched her back and moaned into his chest as the climax slammed into her. Above her, Brice grunted, cursed and froze in ecstasy before collapsing like a wet rag over her. Still not crushing her though, as he somehow managed to still fall to the side to keep his weight off. 50

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Because he was still controlled. Even in the middle of an orgasm, he managed to keep his head in the game. And what the hell? She’d started this whole sex-in-the-barn thing wanting to take charge, to play the leader, the aggressor this time. He’d had his turn last night, it was her time to be alpha dog. And somehow he’d worked and maneuvered until he was once again the one that had ultimate power. This was obviously a habit of his. And maybe he’d never been called on it before. But Mary Ellen wasn’t about to let him have unlimited authority in the bedroom. The rasp of wood under her backside reminded her they were as far from a bedroom as possible. Which was fine. So he couldn’t have unlimited authority wherever they ended up fucking. Brice needed his world shaken up. And she was just the woman to do it.

***** Brice sat in the main camp office, waiting for the business group coming in for the three-day weekend. It was the last retreat group before the camp went into fullpreparation mode for summer kids to descend. Though the camp could survive on the fees from the children alone, hosting CEO team-building retreats through the off seasons helped not only with getting ahead on the budget, but also scholarships. The scholarships made it possible to offer kids who had a bad start in life the chance for at least a few weeks of normalcy. Freedom. Fresh air. Three guaranteed meals a day, a couple weeks of adults who cared about them, treated them decently, wanted the best for them. This was how he met the Winstons. How he became one of them. He was one of their first scholarship kids, the first to receive that unconditional support. And somehow, the only one they chose to love forever. Humble didn’t begin to cover it. A knock at the office door had him looking up, pulling him from the past. 51

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“Brice? The group arrived. They actually headed straight for the cafeteria, so I thought I’d come tell you. They said they had a long drive.” “Thanks, Jessica.” The teen closed the door behind her, and he was alone again with his thoughts. Only this time, they were mostly annoyed. Not only was the group two hours late to check in, but they didn’t have the decency to send someone to the office like he asked. The lack of consideration was astounding. And this coming from a guy who dealt with three hundred tweens every summer. Gathering the necessary paperwork, he sighed and headed down to the mess hall. Might as well not even bother waiting for someone to finally trek up the whole hundred yards to the office. Scholarship money. Scholarship money. Scholarship money. His mantra during these retreats. The noise and shouts could be heard almost the moment he stepped outside onto the dirt path. What the hell? Were they fighting? He picked up the pace, then started to jog as the ruckus got louder. Bursting through the double doors, he assessed the situation in a moment. And the frozen-gut feeling of panic slid up his spine until his chest simmered with anger. The executives, casually dressed in polo shirts with the company logo and jeans, stood around a table. All twelve of them. Hanging on every word uttered by the woman sitting on top. Legs crossed, showing off tanned, toned limbs in short-shorts and flip-flops, camp tank dipping lower than he’d ever seen it. Mary Ellen. Who else? One of the men leaned close, said something next to her ear and she threw her head back with laughter. Brice knew what they were all thinking. The insta-boner each guy got as he stood there, staring at her chest, her legs. “Sorry I missed the party.”

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Thirteen heads turned toward him, only one was frowning. Mary Ellen hopped down from the table and walked toward him, parting the sea of males. “Hey, Brice.” Her voice was different, a little lower, softer than usual. “The guys here were exhausted from their drive over. I thought they’d enjoy a little food before all that tedious paperwork.” The crowd cheered again. Apparently even the simple mention of food had them excited. Brice started to say something, but then took a moment to pause. What was that smell… Beer. The group smelled like they’d been rolling around the inside of a microbrewery. Damn. But even as he started to get angry, he noticed they were turning their attention to the sandwich platter that sat on the table, next to where Mary Ellen had perched. “Boys, we’ll be right back. You eat every one of those sandwiches, you hear?” Mouths full, they answered in some form of mumbled agreement. Brice grabbed her arm and pulled until they were outside. He tried a few deep breaths, but his anger trumped common sense. “What. The. Fuck were you doing in there?” She shook until he let go. “Saving the weekend. Obviously.” Her face said it all. Are you blind? “Saving the weekend by what, offering yourself up for viewing pleasure? Exactly how is that helping?” Her mouth dropped open, then snapped shut. Then, to his surprise, an eerie calm took her over. “Well, boss, the guys showed up drunk and ready to rumble. Hammered. Completely wasted. Not to mention stupid. I was concerned they were going to go running off into the woods and get lost like a bunch of slobbering fools. So instead I decided to ply them with food and attention to help sober them up a little faster before anyone did something completely moronic and hurt themselves and tried to sue the camp before any liability paperwork could be signed.” 53

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He tried to speak, but she held up a hand. “I’m not going to apologize for how I handled it. I was thinking on the fly, and I don’t regret giving them a little flirt to keep them all preoccupied while the sandwiches soaked up some alcohol. Hopefully, with no access to booze up here, they’ll be more calm for the rest of the weekend. You’re welcome.” She turned on her heel and walked away, not looking back once. Jackass. He was a jackass. But even a jackass had a job, and he knew she was right. Time to get some papers signed to get the weekend started. The sooner things got started, the sooner the guys would be able to head to their cabins and he could start fixing the mess he stepped in.

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Chapter Six Mary Ellen kicked an empty bucket in her tack room. The loud clatter did little to satisfy her anger and frustration. Times like these, a punching bag would be very handy. But she had her babies. And Jessica, the teen helping her in the barn that day, was around. No need to show off her temper and upset everyone. She decided to focus on something else, so she changed into the jeans and boots she always kept in the office and took Rachel out into the paddock for a workout. Of course, workout was really just a word for having her on the lunge line while Jessica created distractions and noises meant to challenge Rachel into staying calm, not reacting. Ross, her male equine companion, wasn’t even close to ready yet. But Rachel had real promise as a nice horse for intermediate riders. Not that they had many during camp, but Mary Ellen gave lessons as well throughout the year, and some of her riders were getting pretty good in the saddle. The best part, of course, was that the exercise took her entire concentration. No room for thoughts of controlling jerkoffs named Brice. “Jess,” she said, wiping sweat from her brow. “Go ahead and cool her down, then take her in, rub her down, give her a treat.” She gave the mare’s nose an affectionate stroke and Rachel leaned in for just a little more. “She’s gonna be a great horse for someone like Andrew this summer.” “Sure is. That kid’s got promise. These two will fall in love in a few weeks when Andrew shows up for camp.” Jessica took the lead rope and walked Rachel back toward the barn. Thank God she’d hired some part-time help. The barn wasn’t the most active place on camp, but it required daily maintenance, and it was tedious sometimes. And despite her love of the horses, working with them seven days a week for months on end

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was too much, even for her. Especially in the summer, with hundreds of kids running around. Jess disappeared into the back of the barn. And Mary Ellen was again alone with her own inner monologue, most of which was starting to sound like a depressing version of Shakespeare. One where the heroine kills the hero. That had her grinning, just a little. Nice thought, if a little impractical. She had to get out of the funk though. She took Cosby out for another good, long ride, then left the barn in Jessica’s capable hands. For a moment, she debated walking back to the mess hall and seeing if the guys were still giving Brice a hard time. The group wasn’t a bad bunch, just got ahead of themselves on celebrating their weekend of bonding time. They’d been nice enough to her, respectful. Even if a few eyes had roamed a little. Could have been worse. But how Brice was managing the bunch of hyper executives wasn’t her business, and she wasn’t quite ready yet to face him. She might cause him bodily harm…and she really didn’t want to take the time to hide the body. The choice was taken out of her hands though, when she opened her cabin door and saw Brice lounging on her bed. “I really hate that you have a key to this place,” she grumbled and closed the door behind her. He shrugged. “Plight of being the manager.” “Go manage something else. Far away from here.” She didn’t wait for a response, walking into the bathroom and closing the door behind her. If he wanted to talk, he’d have to wait. She was grimy and sweaty and not in the mood. She stripped off her tank, her jeans and her boots and left them in a pile on the small floor while she jumped in the shower. The first shocking blast of cold water as the pipes worked to heat it up gave her a clearer head. And as the temperature worked its way from cool to lukewarm, she ducked under the stream and tried to soak away the thoughts.

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Nope. Didn’t work. What was he doing out there? Did he leave? Was he still sitting on her bed as if he owned the place? And why did she care so damn much? The answer came faster than she expected. With her hair still soapy, she cocked her head to the side as she heard the familiar snick of the bathroom door closing. She sighed and dipped her head back, letting the suds rinse out. “Privacy is something you need to learn about, Brice.” “Maybe I just want to talk.” Bull-honky. “Shouldn’t you be out there with the band of merry drunks? They aren’t exactly trustworthy individuals.” “Half of them were passed out by the time we dragged them all to their bunks, and the other half were lying down for a nap. They’re safe, all snug in their beds. Everyone knows to radio me if they wake up and start making noise.” “If that’s the case then why are you— Ah!” She screamed and covered herself automatically as the shower curtain was yanked back. The feminine, involuntary gesture annoyed her, but she’d always been one to be easily startled. Brice stepped in, completely naked, and cut off any ideas of protest she could have managed to give. The spray of water against his skin, shades darker than hers, made him gleam. Oh, she would love to run her tongue down every line and curve of his torso. No. No she wouldn’t. Because she was still angry. Because he was an assuming jerk. He reached out and smoothed back her soaking wet hair. She couldn’t very well pull away, given it was a shower and there was nowhere to go but out. And she wasn’t done yet. Plus, it’d look childish. “Sorry.” She huffed. “Well you should be sorry. You know I startle easily.”

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He grinned and smoothed his hands down her jaw, around her neck to her shoulders where he rubbed gently. “But that cute little girly squeak you made was so adorable.” She slapped at his hands for that, but he only laughed. The deep chuckle echoed off the tile walls, which made the space seem even smaller, his presence even larger. Enveloping her senses. “That’s not what I’m sorry for though. I was wrong about earlier. To assume you had some sort of weird ulterior motive for being in there with the guys. Stupid of me. I shouldn’t have jumped on it.” “No, you shouldn’t have.” Okay, Brice apologizing was akin to the apocalypse. And twice in one week. First at the reception, now here. It was official. The world was coming to an end. “Why do you look so shocked?” “Because you never apologize.” He shook his head. “I do. When I’m wrong, I say I’m wrong.” “Not to me, you don’t.” He stepped forward, backing her up until her shoulders pressed against the cold tile. “You don’t always bring out the best in me.” “What a compliment.” Her snark didn’t keep him from advancing. “It’s not meant to be. It’s just the truth. My…instinct sometimes gets in the way.” Wow. The thought that Brice had a fault, and was admitting it to her in such a real, vulnerable way, was powerful. It was the first hint of something he couldn’t always control, and she wanted more. She wanted him in complete abandon. “Apology accepted?” She bit her lip, wondering if she could prolong the torture a little. But that wasn’t fair. An honest moment didn’t deserve careless play. With a nod and a grin, she reached up on her toes and gave him a kiss. He pressed fully into her, chest molding to her 58

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breasts, belly to belly. His cock, stiff and straight out, pressed against her rib cage. She rolled her legs, just to tease a little. He hissed and tore his lips away. “Time to play then, hmm?” “Yes, please.” “On your knees.” Yes, please.

Brice held his breath. Would she? Or like always, would Mary Ellen buck against any idea of authority and do the exact opposite of what she’d been asked…or commanded. But with only the hint of a smile, she gave no resistance and dropped down in the shower. He angled his back to keep the water from hitting her and watched. Watched while she spread her hands across the tops of his thighs, rubbed around to his ass, kneaded the muscles. Her short hair shone with amber, copper and brass highlights, and was pushed back from her face, showcasing her tiny features. She was so delicate, and yet she attacked everything with a larger-than-life attitude and a vitality that confused even him. She played, because that’s who she was, teasing him with soft kisses on the tops of his thighs, his abdomen, the base of his cock. One hand gently cupped his balls, kneading them with a pressure that was just enough to make him weak, not enough to hurt. But he knew Mary Ellen. The thought that she had him, quite literally, by the balls pleased her, and he saw the glint in her eyes. Her attitude always amused him, even as it confused him. So confident, so willing to put herself out there, to be so sure she wouldn’t get hurt. Or if she would, that she could recover. The sign of someone who grew up confident in the unconditional love around them, never once doubting her family wanted her. Cherished her.

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One long lick up the underside of his shaft made him bite back a moan. No, she’d have to work harder than that for a response. The tip of her tongue traced around the top of his cock, dipping into the slit, around the underside of the head. He would have sworn he just got a little harder, if that was even possible. She opened her mouth to take him in, and his breath caught. But she grinned and moved back to circle teasing kisses once more. So she wanted to think she was in control. Good try. He gripped the back of her head and angled it so she looked at him. “Playtime’s over, baby. Open that beautiful mouth for me.” She stared at him, almost mulish in her stubbornness. He used his thumb to gently massage the side of her jaw until her lips parted almost naturally, and he pressed forth. It was either jerk away, or open up. Thank God she opened. Her sweet, pink lips took inch after inch of his cock, so many shades darker than her own marble-white skin, and he was in heaven. When he was almost all the way in, she wrapped a small fist around the base of his cock and squeezed. The pressure, combined with the hot wetness of her mouth, had him holding in a curse. “Suck, baby. Come on.” She rotated her hand, the friction and the suction a delicious combination. If he wasn’t careful, if he didn’t hold himself back, he’d be going off in a matter of seconds. His hand guided her back, until the head grazed her teeth. He hissed, not from pain. No, because it was just the right amount of sting to take the pleasure to another level. As if it could go any higher. Once more she took him in, using her hand to cover his entire length and sucked. Her little hum of pleasure shot straight through him and he gritted his teeth in the fight against his own orgasm. He wasn’t going to last. He’d worry about the embarrassment of it later.

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“Pull back, babe. I want to fuck that sweet mouth of yours.” She obeyed immediately, adding to his pleasure. And he pushed in, backing out gently, slowly arching his hips in an intimate rhythm, making use of her warm mouth. And if the expression on her face was any hint, she wasn’t at all upset about it. He paused, and as if they’d been lovers for years, she knew instinctively what he wanted. She sucked hard, squeezing her hand around his base, using the other to tug with soft finesse on his balls. He pulled back, pushed forward again and was too close to hold off any longer. “I’m going to come, baby,” he ground out. He thought she’d pull away, finish with her hand. Expected it. But she kept going, sucking harder, squeezing in rhythm with his thrusts, caressing his balls until the pressure built up and spilled over and he came, hot jets in her mouth. She groaned, sucking greedily, the vibration only prolonging the release and his reaction. A long moment passed, her still on her knees, looking up at him, pleased as hell with herself. He used his arms for support against the shower wall, not wanting to collapse on top of her. Because his legs just felt that weak. “I always like to bring a man to his knees, figuratively of course.” She smiled like a cat who found the milk pail uncovered. If there was a sexier sight on earth, he couldn’t dream one up. Then her head tilted and her lips curved. “Though the fact that I’m the one on my knees makes it a little more amusing.” Damn, she was still kneeling on the shower floor. He reached and pulled her up, pressing her back against the tile. Because he couldn’t seem to resist, he kissed her nose, her cheek, her jaw, below her ear. “Your turn.” He wasn’t one to leave his woman behind on the count. With one hand, he hitched her left leg up, opening her to him, giving him access to what he wanted. The humidity of the shower and the hot dampness of her pussy mingled, and the first cautious touch felt like fire. She was ready, so damn ready for him, he could have 61

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pounded into her in a moment and she’d have no complaints. But this was for her. All her. He sucked gently at her skin, bit the tendons running between her neck and shoulder. She arched with grace, giving him better access. And he let one finger circle the rim of her damp opening before coming up to graze her clit. She shuddered, a little sound caught in her throat. “Please,” she whispered. “Please, Brice.” The vulnerability she showed, just for him, pinched his heart more than she could have ever known. Tough little Mary Ellen, always so brash and sure and loud and confident. Reduced to little, whispered pleading. And yet, she never seemed to have a problem with it. Was never ashamed to show him her desires, to show him exactly what she wanted, how much she wanted it. To give up that façade for him. He was proud of her strength, even as he envied it a little. Hopefully she always had enough strength for the both of them. The pad of his thumb circled her clit, pressing against the side like Morse code. Her hips thrust forward, silently begging for more. He’d give it to her. In the end, it seemed as if he couldn’t deny her much of anything. He held off so long, fighting their attraction, the possibility of their being together, all for nothing. Brice couldn’t stay away from Mary Ellen any more than he could quit breathing. He let his fingers drift down, thumb still working her clit. One slowly entered her, then two, satisfied with the way her pussy clamped down on him in intimate rejoice. A little mewling gasp escaped her lips and he smiled against her wet skin. Soap. She wasn’t one to use frilly, girly bath gels and scents. She was good, clean and simple. He only wished the angle would give him better access to her breasts. Next time… “Oh my— Oh my God. Brice.” He felt her whole body tighten up, including around his fingers. She vibrated with the effort to hold back her climax, to deny herself as long as possible. He bit one earlobe. “Come for me, baby. Now, come on.” 62

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And he pressed hard, using a rapid rhythm with his thumb that left her no choice but to shatter around him. He tightened his grip on her leg, pressed her a little harder to the wall to keep her upright as she shook with the force of her release. Her cries echoed in the small room, seeming twice as loud, twice as insistent. And then she went limp, all but draping herself over his shoulders, as if the effort, the very strength to stand was beyond her. No problem, he thought as he shut off the water and stepped out with her, drying her off. He could be strong for both of them.

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Chapter Seven Mary Ellen blinked, not sure what caused her to wake up in the middle of the night. But unfortunately, now she was up. Never fun, but that’s how her system worked. Instead of moving, rolling out of bed to go accomplish something like she normally would, she waited. Breathed deeply for a moment. Let the scent of Brice fill her, let his warmth surround her a little longer. She was glad he’d insisted on coming back to his cabin, with its king-size bed to accommodate his height. With her back to his chest, his arm around her waist, hand curving around one breast with unconscious instinct, she felt protected. Cherished. Loved. Not that he’d dare utter the “L” word. No, that would take too much faith, give up too much control to an unknown. A feeling. Huge emotions like that weren’t something Brice was willing to surrender, not easily and not without a lot of struggle. If she wanted his love, she’d have to work for it. Earn it. And she wanted it. He didn’t realize how special he was. How giving and sweet he could be. Yeah, sure, he gave off the domineering, I’m in charge here attitude. But it wasn’t him. Not an act, per se, but a thin veneer to cover up something else. If she wanted him in her life, she needed to crack that top layer and see what was underneath. He’d have to let her. And it started with seeing how easily he could let go of the reins. She rolled over, pushed his shoulder gently until he was flat on his back and climbed on top of him. He slept on, like a coma patient. “Figures,” she mumbled. She just had to pick now to try out a seduction. But she’d started, so she’d finish. Kissing her way around his jaw, the bristle scratching at her lips, she rubbed her hands up and down his arms. She looked down and watched her fingers 64

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glide around his biceps. She loved the beautiful contrast of her pale skin against his slightly darker-than-tan coloring. Unique to them. He shifted, as if subconsciously aware of her touch, but not quite ready to slip into awake status. The rising erection beneath her butt though, that was becoming more ready by the minute. Men. They could get a boner even in their deepest REM cycle. She worked her hands down his chest, over his ribs where she knew he was ticklish. A little poke had him squirming, closer to the surface of consciousness. One hand continued to play over his ribs, fingers walking over each bone as the other reached behind and took a firm grasp of his now-hard cock. “Hmm?” His eyes didn’t even crack, but he turned his head to the side. “Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey,” she sang softly, teasingly. “Eggs? Huh?” His voice rusty with sleep, he cracked one eye and stared at her. Though to be honest, she wouldn’t have been shocked if he was still sleep-blind. “There’s eggs?” She blew out a breath, shifting some of her hair off her forehead. “No. There’s not eggs. Nice to know where your mind immediately goes upon waking up, though.” “Well good Christ, Mary Ellen, it’s—” He turned to peer at the bedside clock. “Three-fourteen in the morning. Sorry for not being with it.” She squeezed his cock, ran her palm down the length with enough pressure to have him open his other eye. “What are you doing up there?” Ah, there we go. Finally starting to catch on. “I’m having my way with you.” “Easy enough when the guy’s not awake.” In one agile movement, he rolled them both over until she was pressed into the mattress. One knee firmly planted between her thighs, forearms caging her shoulders. She wasn’t moving unless he let her. “Hey. I wasn’t finished up there. Let me up.” 65

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“Uh huh.” He nipped her lip, soothed his tongue over the same spot. “Now I’m the one who’s up. Or is this not what you wanted?” “Not really.” She pushed ineffectively on his chest. She had no strength this way, no leverage. “I wanted to be in charge this time.” “Mmm. But I like you this way.” She wasn’t surprised. “Why don’t I get a vote?” As if he didn’t hear her, he worked his lips down her collarbone, pulling up her sleep tank at the same time until one nipple was exposed. He gave one long, hot lick then blew on the damp skin until the tip hardened tightly. “There we go.” He sucked the distended point into his mouth, and her pussy responded immediately with little tingles. Oh God that felt so good. She gripped his wrists, hips twisting, looking for friction…wait. No, it was her turn. She rotated her torso until his mouth let go. “Seriously.” She fought to control her breathing even as he pressed his cock against her mound, the pressure only distracting her. She had to push back against the wave of pleasure to keep her mind clear. “It’s my turn to lead for once.” His face, previously playful and languid in the hopes of some languid, sleepy lovemaking, hardened. “I lead.” She blew out a breath. “This isn’t the tango.” When he raised a brow, she rolled her eyes. “Not that tango. The ballroom tango. Foxtrot. Waltz. Whatever. Guys don’t have to always lead. I want a chance.” He shook his head once. “This is my thing.” He took another nip at her breast, and she almost let the whole thing go. “Am I not satisfying you?” “You know you are,” she grumbled and twisted again to break contact. “But I want a turn. Somehow you always end up the one calling the shots.”

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“I don’t see the problem here.” He kissed her, tongue delving in to meld with hers. His weight settled more fully on her, the head of his cock scraping past her clit to rest close to her center. She pulled back. “I think that’s the problem.” Brice cocked his head to one side. “You just lost me. What’s the problem?” “You don’t see why it’s a problem that you can’t step back and let me control something for once?” He didn’t say a word, didn’t move a muscle. She groaned and, with a few interesting and somewhat painful maneuvers, rolled out from under him. Where were her shorts? There. She grabbed them off the back of the chair where they’d landed earlier and started dressing. “What are you doing?” “Making an omelet. What does it look like?” she snapped. “You don’t have to leave.” “Yeah, I do.” Shirt. Where was her…ah. Shirt on and halfway buttoned, she looked back up. “You need to figure this thing out. I like when you take control. It’s sexy. It drives me nuts. It’s your thing. I get it. But I’m not a wallflower, Brice. I don’t just sit in corners and wait for others to do for me. I want to lead sometimes. If that’s not something you’re capable of, well…” She finished the last button with shaking fingers and shrugged. As she slipped on her flip-flops, she heard the bed creak behind her. She knew what he was doing. Getting dressed. Even in the middle of a fight, he’d walk her to her cabin rather than her go alone in the dark. It’s just the kind of guy he was. And she could appreciate him for who he was. But she didn’t always have to like it. This was one of those times. “Don’t bother,” she said, knowing it was pointless.

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He huffed as he slipped on a pair of jeans. Her mouth watered just a little as the denim slid over his butt, as he hopped and shook to reposition his erection enough to zip up. Whoops. Well, that was his problem. He had a hand. He could fix it later himself, in nice, controlled strokes. She could run. Between not having his shoes on yet and still having to deal with a zipper imprint on his dick, she’d win. It wasn’t all that far. But that wouldn’t be the mature thing to do. Satisfying, but not mature. So she waited in silence as he slipped on a pair of running shoes and grabbed a hoodie before holding his door open for her. They walked together, not talking, the muffled night sounds surrounding them. Feeling like the only two people in the world. It could have been romantic. Could have. If he wasn’t such a stubborn ass and she wasn’t pissed. Yeah, other than that… They reached the door to her cabin and she took her key out from her pocket. “Thanks.” She turned away from him but he closed a hand over hers before she could unlock the door. “Why is this so important to you?” “I’m not a follower.” She spoke quietly, for some reason not wanting to disturb the somber night peace. “That’s just who I am. I can play at it for a while, but then I need my own chance to lead.” He sighed then let go, let her walk into the cabin and close her door without a word. She rested her back against it, wanting to scream. Was this just it? He wouldn’t give up control, ever, and she wouldn’t be permanently controlled. So they were at an impasse. Give it time. The rational part of her said to just give it time. It’s not over. It’s just halftime.

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***** Mary Ellen managed to avoid Brice for the rest of the week. Wasn’t too hard. She stuck to her stables and her babies and let him do his thing. The only real risk was during meals, but she knew exactly when Brice ate every day, so it wasn’t that hard to sneak down, grab some food and run back to her office. And how sad was that, sneaking around her own home? Camp truly was home for her, despite her parents living not so far down the country road. But she just wasn’t ready to deal with it. Or him. Not yet. “Knock knock.” Mary Ellen’s head shot up from paperwork. “Ariel! You’re back.” Jumping up, she gave her friend a big hug. “And you’re tan. Hey lady, you look good.” Ariel grinned and shooed her back into the office chair. Hopping up on the dusty bench, she let her legs swing. “Honeymoons agree with me, what can I say? So what have I missed?” Oh, nothing much. I just got in a fight with your brother at the reception, then I had sex with him. And then we did that again, and it was great. And I’m pretty positive my serious longing for him for the past decade has morphed into actual, tangible love. And I don’t think he feels the same way back. And I’m mad. And he’s mad. And I’m staying out of his way because it’s easier than hearing that final “we’re through” speech. “Oh, nothing much.” She shuffled a few papers. “Actually…do you wanna take a ride?” “Great!” Ariel hopped down and out the door and was halfway to the stable before she yelled, “Gonna change into jeans and boots. I’ll be right back. Saddle Rachel for me.”

***** Brice debated, for only the thousandth time that day, if he should take the walk up to the stable. The elemental pull to be where she was, to just be around her, watching

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her even from a distance, was uncomfortable. The dull ache in his stomach as every day passed that they weren’t talking—even in snips or swipes at each other like before— was worse. “You look like crap.” He didn’t even have to look up from his computer. “Hey, Trav. Bring back my sister in one piece?” “More or less.” The other man flopped down on a chair and hitched his boots up on the desk. “You know, it’s amazing how much I was looking forward to getting out of here for a break. Thought I was getting antsy after being so used to moving around with the Marines. Being settled in one place, I didn’t think it’d agree with me. But while we were gone, I was ready to just come home and start living.” Brice gave up the appearance of work and sat back, lacing his fingers over his stomach. “You already had the townhouse set up to move into, right?” “Whenever we’re not here. Which, during the summer, will likely be often of course. I couldn’t drag her away from this place with a crowbar. Not that I’d want to.” No, he wouldn’t. In the camp—and the Winstons—Trav found the same thing Brice had…family. Besides his sister, Trav had only ever known the Marines as his family. Some people might have been a little intimidated by the tight group the Winston clan made, and how easygoing they were about adopting—formally and informally—people into their fold. But Trav seemed to soak it up like a sponge. He was good for his sister. And Brice was glad she found the guy, however randomly it happened. “What’s been going on around here? Anything new, any fun stories?” Oh, where to begin. Or did he even go there? Thanks to the isolating nature of his job, friends outside of the camp were few and far between. So the odds were, if he went to anyone, they were going to know Mary Ellen too. There’d be a bias one way or another.

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“You’re struggling with it, that much is obvious.” Brice glanced up, saw the smirk on Trav’s face. “Struggling with what?” “Whatever’s on your mind. I’m guessing it’s not camp stuff, since you always have that under control. Almost scary, actually, how you keep this place organized.” “Someone has to,” he bit back. Trav raised his hands in surrender. “Hey, I’m not complaining. I agree. Someone has to hold the reins. A place like this has a lot of love to give. But you can’t do that without a plan and someone running things.” He blew out a breath. After so much criticism of his control from Mary Ellen, he was jumping the gun on anyone who brought it up. “Sorry. It’s just been a long couple of weeks.” “Has she had a long few weeks too?” “Who?” His instinct to play dumb where his feelings for Mary Ellen were concerned were too ingrained to fight. Trav squinted at him, then shook his head. “We both know who. What I don’t know is why you fight it so hard. The two of you love to act like there’s nothing going on, and yet put you both in the room together and it feels like there’s a contest to see who can burn the other one’s clothes off with their eyes the fastest.” Had it seriously been that obvious? “She annoys me,” he muttered. Which was true. “So does Marge. But you don’t stare at her like you do Mary Ellen.” Marge the cook? “Marge is knocking on the door to ninety.” “Lies. She couldn’t be a day over eighty-five.” There was a teasing light in Trav’s eyes, and Brice was tempted to toss his keyboard at him. “Look, we’re brothers now.” “Brothers-in-law.” He waved that away. “Whatever. The fact is, what you tell me in confidence stays there. Ariel and I are married, and I love her more than life itself. But we’re perfectly capable of keeping things quiet if it’s asked of us. We share a life, not a brain.” 71

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Brice thought about that for a moment. “Just answer this…what’s stopping you from making a move with Mary Ellen?” Ha. “Funny you should ask…”

***** “Holy shit. I still can’t believe you slept with my brother.” Mary Ellen’s eyes darted around, seeing nothing but trees on either side of the trail. “Keep it down, will you?” Ariel glanced around her as well. “What, like there’s some nosy blue jay eavesdropping, just ready to break the story on Perez Hilton? Come on.” Okay, when she put it like that, it did sound stupid. “Someone could ride up the trail behind us,” she mumbled. “And be heard coming a mile away. You know we’re alone back here.” “Were you this smart when you left? I think I miss my dumber friend, can I have her back?” Mary Ellen ducked the handful of leaves Ariel threw at her, righted herself in the saddle again. “Yes. I did. And you can stop looking so surprised. You knew I had a…” A what? Crush seemed a little juvenile. But using the word lust to Brice’s sister was a little bizarre, even if it was her best friend. “Thing. Let’s use the word thing and call it done. And yeah, I knew. I was encouraged by it. But sweetie, I’m not mad. I’m just shocked that he actually let his guard down enough to go for it.” “That would make two of us.” She breathed in, let the scents of flowers and fresh, damp earth and leather seep through her, calm her. “But as it turns out, he didn’t let anything down. He just created this little box to put me in.” “I’m not following.” Mary Ellen urged Ross until he was even with Ariel riding Rachel. “It’s like, he only let me in a little bit into his life. He created this special box, labeled Mary Ellen. And as

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long as I stay in this box that he’s decided I belong in, then everything is fine. But if I want to step out, then it all goes to hell. He’s so…controlled.” “That’s Brice.” “Yeah, I know. And sometimes I like it. But other times, well, you know me. I like to be in charge too. But that’s not acceptable to him. He’s like a junkyard dog with a bone and nobody gets to share his bone with him.” “He earned it fair and square,” Ariel said, surprising her. “The bone?” “The control.” Ariel bit her lip, eyes darting a little. “Has Brice talked about life? Before he was a Winston.” That sounded ominous. Whatever she was about to say, Mary Ellen instinctually knew she wasn’t going to like it.

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Chapter Eight “You used to say that he was born a Winston and the stork just got lost,” Mary Ellen tried to tease. But the fact she really didn’t know much about Brice’s live B.W.— Before Winstons—made her shift in the saddle. Not that it was her fault, he just never spoke about it. And it’s not exactly something she was going to bring up out of the blue, in case it really wasn’t something he wanted to talk about. There were enough barriers in their relationship. No need for him to toss up more because he was aggravated at her asking questions. Ariel rolled her eyes. “I was six when I said that. The point is, he didn’t have a great life.” “He came to you guys from foster care. I didn’t assume it was all roses for him,” Mary Ellen pointed out. She was dense sometimes, but not a complete moron. She hoped. “His dad was nonexistent. And his mom was an alcoholic. Probably still is. When she was on a bender, Brice was the responsible one. Didn’t matter his age. He told me his first memory was at age three—he thinks. Pushing a chair to the pantry to climb up as high as he could to look for food. There was nothing. And his mom had been either passed out or just plain asleep for almost days. So he ate stale dog food.” “Oh my God.” She closed her eyes, but had to open them again as her imagination took over and started forming the picture. “He had to bathe himself, feed himself, get to school himself. Nobody was going to do it for him. The most complimentary thing he could say about his mom was that she wasn’t a violent drunk.” “Brice doesn’t drink,” she murmured, more to herself than Ariel. Her friend nodded. 74

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“I thought it was because he didn’t like to give up control to anything, even a drink.” “That’s part of it. But he spent the first ten years of his life watching his mother hit the bottle and then hit the floor, face-down. His life was in a constant state of chaos, and he couldn’t do anything about it. For a kid like him, naturally quiet and thoughtful, that sort of life is a certain kind of personal hell.” Her heart hurt for him. Of course she knew Brice was adopted. She was Ariel’s best friend, and she remembered first meeting him. Tall, gangly, too skinny she’d thought. But his eyes intrigued her, even as such a young child herself. They saw everything, absorbed. Wide, knowing, like they’d seen so much. She didn’t know at the time, and hadn’t thought about it since, that what they’d seen hadn’t been worldly and mature, but possibly horrifying and traumatic. And things started to line up. His need for control. Why he would fight it so hard. Why her asking him to give it up caused him a serious problem. “Oh crap.” She’d asked something of him he very well might not be able to do. She didn’t know, she rationalized. If she’d heard that story before, maybe she would have been more understanding. Less pushy. Maybe. But the odds were, she still would have fought for control at some point. Wanted to be given the chance to lead, to be the one in charge. Stretch her wings. But at least she would have gone about it a different way. I don’t just sit in corners and wait for others to do for me. I want to lead sometimes. If that’s not something you’re capable of, well… The words, even though she’d said them as kindly as she could, echoed harshly in her mind. She halted Ross, let Ariel move on ahead and sat for a moment, the quiet sounds of the woods soothing her racing heart, her panicking mind.

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What if he really couldn’t though? Give up control. If it was all or nothing, what did she want? Nudging Ross on, she was determined to figure the answer out by the end of their ride.

***** Brice slipped into Mary Ellen’s cabin, his new familiarity with the room guiding him in the pitch black. After shutting the door softly, he waited for some booby trap to trip. It’d be just her idea of fun to set something to catch him sneaking into her place. But that was Mary Ellen. She would always keep him on his toes. And that was okay. He was coming to terms with that, slowly but surely. The exhaustion of fighting their feelings for each other combined with the thought that if he didn’t give a little, he’d lose a lot, was starting to make the whole idea of compromise and giving up a hint of control less painful to consider. Not comfortable. But not as painful. Time to step out of the comfort zone. Walking to the bed, he stood for a moment and watched the rise and fall of Mary Ellen’s chest. Her limbs were sprawled in some ungraceful way that made her look about two feet tall. She was so tiny, the instinct to procure and protect welled inside him. She, of course, would hate that with every beat of her little independent heart. But he’d fallen for her despite their differences. Or maybe because of them. Hard to say anymore. But Mary Ellen had slowly wormed her way into his heart, starting at an age younger than he’d like to admit. She was there now, fully, completely. And losing her would be the same as ripping out his own heart. He sat on the bed and waited for her to recognize his presence. She did almost immediately, turning to him with sleepy awareness. “Brice.” Her voice was rusty with sleep, giving it a deeper, sexy quality that didn’t quite match her pixie-cute looks.

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“I’m not going to apologize for coming in.” That was not at all what he intended to say. She smiled a little, closed her eyes again as if the effort to keep them open was too much. “I didn’t expect you to.” “I’m sorry. For before.” At that, she sat up, more fully awake. Her hair stuck up every direction, and her lids still dropped in a way that said she badly needed the sleep he was interrupting. But they had to get this out. “I’m the one who’s sorry.” She played with the edge of her sheet, not meeting his eyes. “Ariel told me. About, you know. The time before you were adopted.” He sucked in a hard breath. Dammit, Ariel. He waited for the damning pity to show in her eyes. But there was none. Just patience, maybe some nerves, as if she wasn’t sure if she should bring it up. “That wasn’t her story to tell.” “She was pretty general. Not many details. Enough to give me an idea though. If you want to tell me more, I’ll listen.” He shook his head. “Nothing gained from going back over it again and again. It sucked, it’s over, I have a new family. The one I was always supposed to have.” She nodded. “That’s true. But I just wanted to say…I understand. I get it. And I don’t want to give you up. So if being in control of things, like us in bed, makes things manageable for you, then…” She smiled tentatively. “Then that’s fine with me.” “But it’s not fine with me.” The emotions played over her face one at a time in quick secession. Shock, confusion, hurt. He rushed to explain. “I like being in charge. Of my life in general, at work, in relationships. It’s good for me. Keeps me balanced, or at least it feels that way. When my control over something 77

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starts to slip, I start feeling like my balance is going. And the fear is it’ll just be a domino effect from there.” She reached out and touched his arm, rubbing up and down. “You don’t have to explain.” “I do. Not just for you, but for me. I need to say this all out loud, get a grip on it.” She giggled. He raised a brow. “What?” “Nothing. Just…you’re controlling your control.” He laughed. “Okay. Hard habit to break. But the point is, I don’t think it’s necessarily a bad thing. Everyone has a thing that works for them. And this is it for me.” “I get that. I really do.” Her voice was soft, understanding. Good. It made this easier. “But what good is feeling balance in my life if there’s nobody next to me? Nobody there challenging me and throwing me off a little, making me think, keeping it interesting?” Her breath caught, a little feminine sound that went straight to his gut. And his cock. Now really wasn’t the time to get horny, so he pushed back on the rising lust. “I’m willing to try. Letting you lead sometimes. Not always,” he added quickly when he saw her start to smile. “I can try.” She shook her head, then nodded, then brushed a hand over her cheek. “That’s enough for me.” She gave a laugh, and it sounded a little watery. “Wow. That was sort of mature for us, huh?” “I guess we both love each other enough to compromise, even on the big stuff,” he said, pressing her back to the bed. Her eyes widened. “What did you say?”

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Panic rose up inside him, gripped him by the throat. But his voice remained calm. “I love you, Mary Ellen. I fought it for so long. I’m tired of fighting, and I don’t want to anymore.” She cupped his face in her hands. “I love you too.” He turned his head to press a kiss to the palm of her hand. “I feel stupid, like we wasted a lot of years.” “Maybe we just had to wait it out this long before we were ready. Go through what we went through alone before we could be ready to deal with it now.” Her smile twisted a little, mocking herself. “Let’s face it, at twenty I wouldn’t have been able to find compromise in the dictionary.” “Probably not,” he agreed, and earned a whack with a pillow for it. He grinned and kissed her hard, angling his body so he could press down on her. But she pushed back, shoving at his shoulders with her small hands until he rolled over for her…with minimal mental resistance. She climbed over him—scrambled more like it—and sat on his stomach, looking very pleased with herself. Like she was queen of the mountain. “How do you feel about a little practice right now, handing over that control of yours?” The thought had him gritting his teeth, but really, the time would come eventually. And maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as he thought. Time to get a little uncomfortable. “You tell me, you’re in charge.” The smile that crept over her lips should have sent ice through his belly. But instead, it warmed his insides.

This was definitely a fun development. Mary Ellen knew pushing too far would only make things harder. But playing it gently wasn’t exactly her style either. “Why don’t you go ahead and take that shirt off for me.” She lifted so he could tug his shirt up, lightly scratching his chest with her nails while he tossed the shirt away.

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Would he change his mind? Unconsciously try to gain control back at some point? No way to know but to give it a go. She patted his thigh and rolled off. “Let’s see the goods.” Her own clothes practically shed themselves as she hustled to be rid of them. Turning back, she saw him lying down flat, arms behind his head, protection already in place. Lead or follow— Brice would always keep her safe. Like a cat, she crawled back over and situated herself until his cock rested in the crease of her pussy. “God, you feel warm against me,” he breathed as she leaned down to graze her teeth over his shoulder. “You know,” she said, pausing to give him a kiss. “I’ve been thinking about your technique.” As emphasis, she ground down on his length. His hips jerked, and she could tell it was involuntary. “My technique? What’s wrong with it?” he said through his teeth. She reached down, positioned his erection until it was at just the right angle, and dropped an inch. Just one. Until only the head was inside. She squeezed and he shivered. “No real spontaneity.” “Having sex in the tack room at the stable wasn’t spontaneous enough—dammit, Mary Ellen.” “Nope,” she said cheerfully. “Not really. It was nice, don’t get me wrong. But then you…” She dropped another inch. “Went all control-freak again and it was too measured. When you’re doing it in public, where you can be found, there’s a sense of urgency. Passion. That gotta have it right now or I’ll die feeling. That you can’t wait…”Another inch down. “One more second.” “I’m starting to understand the point.” He gripped her hips, and she knew he was about to pull her down.

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“Uh uh. My turn.” She pried his fingers off and placed them by his side, watching his face to see how he reacted. He only closed his eyes, as if in pain, and resisted any further advance. Good. Finally, on her timeline, she sank all the way down, filling herself with him. The night around them seemed to pulse, she could feel every little twinge of his body, every shuddered breath. The most intimate of moments with the man she loved. And she was not about to start crying. It was that determination to hold back the tears that pushed her forward to kiss him. The angle of their bodies changed, became deeper, and she was ready to let loose. Skin stuck to skin as she pumped her hips fast, ignoring rhythm. Ignoring anything but what felt good. “Baby, slow down.” Brice tore his mouth away. She couldn’t have slowed down if she wanted to. Luckily, she didn’t. It was sporadic, at times a little awkward. And drawn out more than she thought it would be. But before too long, she felt that slow ripple start low in her belly and she breathed a word of warning moments before fireworks went off behind her eyelids. Numbly, distantly, she heard Brice’s own groan of release before his body went slack beneath her. She twisted and repositioned, ignoring his moans, until her head was on the center of his chest. It was soothing to listen to his heart, so fast to begin with, slow down to a one-two rhythm. Brice rested his chin on the crown of her head. “So are you going to marry me?” A flutter of excitement beat inside her chest, like hummingbird wings. But she kept her voice cool. “I’ll think about it.” “You’ve ruined me for any other woman, you know.” He smoothed one hand down her back, rested it lightly under her butt. “You’ll just have to get over it and commit.”

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She yawned. “Like I said, I’ll think about it.” His deep chuckle rumbled in her ear as she drifted to sleep. “You do that.”

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Epilogue She woke to the building pressure of an impending orgasm. How in the world… “Finally.” Brice kissed the side of her neck, keeping his voice low. “I thought you’d never wake up.” “I’m on vacation. And it’s not even six yet,” she pointed out, glancing at the clock on the hotel nightstand to confirm. “I don’t have to wake up when I’m on vacation. And speaking of, what are you doing back there, sir?” “Having my way with you while you completely ignore me, apparently.” He sighed with regret. “It’s truly a shame how far a guy can get without any notice. I feel so used. Like a toy.” “But you don’t fit in my nightstand drawer,” she said, deadpan face in place. Brice rolled her over with a fake growl and nipped at her breast. That Mr. Serious could be so playful was a fantastic surprise. Over the past year, she’d learned even more about the different facets of Brice’s personality when he allowed himself to relax, to not be on guard. To hand over the reins occasionally. Not that it wasn’t still a struggle sometimes. But they fought through it, and each time came out stronger because of it. He slid one of her arms up over her head, let his fingers drift until they laced with hers. As he slowly—always slowly with this one—entered her, he gave her the most solemn face she’d seen in a long time. “I love you.” She squeezed his hand. “I love you too.” “In a few hours we’re going to watch Pete and Sarah get married.”

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He angled his hips, and she closed her eyes for a moment to savor the new pressure. “Mmm hmm. Sure are.” He nuzzled the sweet spot below her ear, kissed her skin. Whispered, “I want it to be us.” God, she loved this man. For the last year, he’d asked her every so often, nudging her toward the altar slowly but steadily. Not that she was against marriage. But when she said I do, it was forever. And there wasn’t a rush. But he’d finished wearing her down. He finished a month ago, really. But he hadn’t brought it up since then. Another thrust brought her closer, filled her deeper. “Marry me, Mary Ellen.” She lifted her lids to see liquid, brown eyes staring at her, as if he knew this was the make-it-or-break-it moment. “Yeah. I’ll do that.”

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About the Author KJ Reed is an inconspicuous housewife by day, folding laundry, changing diapers and washing dishes with pleasure. But late at night, when the rest of the household is asleep and not making messes she has to pick up, she writes erotic romance. She took up writing one day when she realized the voices in her head weren’t multiple personalities, but characters begging to come out and play. A military wife, she’s fortunate enough to be surrounded by manly, Alpha-tastic inspiration on a daily basis. Nothing stirs the blood quite like a platoon of sweaty Marines running by in formation, does it ladies? Of course, she’d tell you where she lives, except by the time you’re done reading this biography…she’s probably moved again. KJ is currently working on her next erotic romance, hopefully hot enough to singe your socks off. She loves email and is semi-compulsive in her need to quickly respond. So send her a shout out, tell her what you liked and what you want to see more of. You’re almost guaranteed a response.

KJ welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.

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