Chapter 2
Dane
"We let her slip right through our fucking fingers," Drake bemoaned our situation for the fifteenth time in as many minutes. “Why did we let Hannah Sharp talk for so long? Hannah fucking Sharp.”
I kept silent. I'd long since learned the best way to deal with Drake was to let him get his bitching out.
"So," he said, handing me a length of looped rope. "What's the plan?"
I hung the rope on the wall, then made a note in the safety program on our tablet. We were starting from scratch with this adventure tourism gig. Everything had to be perfect before we even considered signing up customer number one.
Not that I was worried. Twelve years in the Marines had taught us both to be prepared for any situation, and the old ranch was perfectly positioned for this venture.
We'd purchased the parcel of cleared land where reformed city slickers had once tried to run a small herd of cattle—it hadn't exactly worked out for them. But the ranch was surrounded by the mountains of the national park to the east and the coastline to the west.
We were about a twenty-minute drive from town and less than that to some great wineries and farm-to-plate restaurants.
The house itself sat on an elevated part of the block.
For all their foolishness, the former owners had done an excellent job of building what could only be described as a beach-meets-farm.
Six bedrooms, three bathrooms, multiple living areas, a basement, an attic, and a library, were all offset by a giant porch that looked out over the ocean.
I'd taken one walk around the house and made an offer on the property.
We'd already submitted the required plans and permissions to the county for approval for our resort.
We planned to have year-round eco-lodges available and couple that with adventure and wilderness activities.
We planned to be all-terrain all the time.
Now we were just waiting for the damn council members to pull their fucking fingers out so we could get the building started.
In the meantime, we'd run our tour business, taking rich assholes out to climb mountains and paddle canoes and feel like real men for once in their lives.
Though I’d be leaving the customer service to Drake.
"The plan?" Drake prompted again.
I saved the additions in the program, shutting down the tablet and tucking it under my arm. "We track her down."
I'd already put a call into Mr. Henderson.
"And?"
"We convince her to give us a chance." I let my stoicism slip just a fraction, the anticipation getting the better of me. "And based on her reaction in the store yesterday, I don't expect that'll be hard."
Drake shifted, running a hand over his crotch. "No," he agreed. "Did you see those nipples?"
I had. Her reaction to us had been instantaneous. The flush, the brief flash of desire, her pulse fluttering madly at her neck.
You'll be ours soon, Baby.
"But damn," Drake continued. "If I'm not hard as a fucking stone in the meantime."
I lifted an eyebrow. "You asking for somethin'?"
He grinned, spreading his arms wide in welcome. "Only if you're offering."
"Back against the wall, unzip."
Drake backed up, that sly grin now permanently fixed on his face. Leaning against the wall, his big hands dropped to his fly. He paused, drawing the moment out, letting me know he wasn't so easily controlled.
Oh, just wait.
He shifted, hands going up to pull his shirt off. He tossed it aside, dropping his hands back to his crotch.
I raised an eyebrow, crossing my arms. "Did I tell you to take that off?"
His grin was quick and dirty. "As if you're not interested in seeing this." He slid a hand down his abs, hooking it into the front of his jeans.
"You need to learn patience," I told him, not moving an inch.
"And you need to learn how to give in,” he returned, fingers now pulling at his fly. He lowered the zipper, peeling his jeans and briefs down his legs. He paused for a second, pulling off his boots and socks before rising, arms outstretched in welcome.
"Like what you see?"
I let my gaze drift slowly over his body. Hard muscle, skin tan from hours in the sun, a few scars—all of which I knew intimately. Drake had long limbs, a lean body, and a cock that stood heavy and hard.
"You'll do,” I drawled, knowing my lack of reaction would drive him crazy. We played this game over and over; sometimes he won, and sometimes I did. But either way, we both got off.
"Fuck you," Drake dropped his arms, one hand dropping to stroke his long cock. ''Come suck me, you dirty fucker."
I moved to him, slow and deliberate. My cock pressed against the fly of my jeans, my body hard and hot. I pushed his hand aside, gripping his shaft tightly in my fist.
"You want something," I told him, giving his cock a vicious stroke. "You ask nicely."
Drake groaned, slumping back against the wall, his hips thrusting helplessly into my hold.
"Suck me,” he told me, breathless and desperate.
I stopped stroking. "Say, please."
"Fuck you."
I grinned, enjoying this back and forth, knowing it turned us both the fuck on.
I pushed out a sad sigh. “Guess you don't want—"
His hand shot out, covering mine, forcefully keeping my fingers around his cock.
"Please,” he gritted out, jaw clenched.
I made a tutting sound in the back of my throat, leaning close to nip him on his collarbone. "Please, what?"
"Please, Dane. Suck me."
Instead, I fisted his hair, pulling him close and smashing our mouths together. We fought for dominance, his hands wrapping around me to battle for control. I jerked him between us, our bodies sliding together—mine fully clothed, his naked. I knew the difference would drive him higher.
"Do it," he barked, reaching down to cup my cock through my jeans. "Fucking suck me."
I slid hungry lips down his body as I slowly lowered to the ground, sucking and nipping, tasting the salt of his skin as I made my way down. On my knees, I fisted his cock, bringing it to my mouth. I paused, glancing up, seeing him looking down at me with half-mast eyes.
"You know Belle is gonna cream the first time she sees me doing this to you," I muttered, giving him a small jerk.
My words, deliberately chosen, were enough to tip Drake over the edge. He fisted my hair, pulling me onto his cock, thrusting until he hit the back of my throat. I revelled in his loss of control, my hands coming up to grip his ass, letting him thrust into my mouth with wild abandon.
"Fuck, Dane. Fuck. Baby," Drake held my head, pressing deep into the back of my throat as he came. I swallowed, sucking it down.
"Shit," he muttered, releasing his grip and sagging against the wall. "Fuck, that was hot."
I wiped at the corner of my mouth, grinning as I stood. "Give me a second, and I'll—"
"Nah," I muttered, readjusting my crotch. "I'm good for now."
Drake raised an eyebrow, giving my pants a meaningful look. A quick glance revealed that my jeans were doing jack shit to hide my massive erection.
"I'll fuck you later tonight," I told him, unafraid of a case of blue balls. "We gotta go."
Drake reached down, casually pulling his jeans up his long legs. "Where?"
"Mr. Henderson." I grinned, anticipation tingling at the base of my spine. "We’ve got a woman to claim."
Drake drove while I called our flaky boat builder.
"Look, I get you guys want this done. But the fact is, I can't meet your impossible deadline. You gotta work with me here,” Simon whined.
I exchanged a glance with Drake, my mouth thinning into an unimpressed line. He rolled his eyes before looking back at the road.
"Simon, we told you six months ago our deadline. You assured us you'd have the crew ready to go when we settled here. Our specifications for this build aren't unusual. If you can't meet our deadline, we'll find someone who can."
He huffed and puffed and tried to wheedle me into a compromise.
Fact was, we needed this guy to start the project now.
We were heading into winter, and unless he started it over this period, there was no way the boat would be ready for spring/summer next year.
The boat would seat up to fifty tourists and would be equipped with a catering area, toilets, and storage for all our various gear.
"No," I finally snapped as Drake turned into the nursing home complex. "We're terminating this contract. I expect our deposit to be returned by next week."
"But—"
"You signed an airtight contract. You can't deliver by our agreed date; we have every right to pull out,” I informed the sorry excuse for a human being. "My lawyer will be in touch."
I hit end, blowing out a breath.
"We gonna be able to find another builder?" Drake asked lightly.
"Give me a week. If we can't, we'll start looking at alternatives. Maybe buy something cheap to tide us over."
That was the worst-case scenario. We wanted to start this enterprise exactly right.
No cutting corners, no second-hand purchases.
We needed to be taken seriously in order to attract the kind of clientele we wanted—rich corporate types ready to splash the cash for a little thrill.
This was why we were giving ourselves a full six months to get everything settled.
That, and six months would be a nice fucking chunk of time to woo Belle. Though I didn't expect it would take quite that long.
"Oh, shit,” Drake murmured as he pulled to a stop in front of Mr. Henderson's small unit. "Isn't that Belle's car?"
Sure enough, in Mr. Henderson's tiny driveway was the same navy blue, no-nonsense Impala that we'd witnessed speeding out of the grocery store's car park yesterday—Belle's pale face tight with anxiety at the wheel.
"Well," I drawled, unsnapping my seat belt. "Ain't this a nice surprise."
"Fucking jackpot,” Drake agreed.