Chapter 2
Chapter two
Maisie
I return to my suite, slipping through the door before anyone sees me in the hallway. My heart’s still thudding from my call to Laramie. I couldn’t handle admitting it to her in person so I confirmed my date at the table, right after Zoe left, so I wouldn’t lose my nerve.
It was like I was ordering sex off the menu. Talk about room service—
Even thinking about it now makes me break into a sweat. We both knew my riding lesson had nothing to do with horses.
I pace barefoot across the thick rug, and catch my reflection in the mirror next to the dresser. Not good. My brown hair is still messy from the wind and my eyes look wild.
I’m over my head.
I’ve been sheltered my whole life. I haven’t even worked for anyone other than relatives.
I do the books for our family’s ranch, so life’s been easy until Calder sold that filly to my dad, and we started dating.
From day one, I worried something was off, and I might not be enough to keep a man like him forever.
The phone on the nightstand shrills, and I jump as if it caught me committing a felony. I rush past the bed and snatch the receiver with a gulp.
“Hello?”
“Is this Maisie?” The sound punches through my chest, like I’m standing too close to the bass speaker at a concert. “This is Brecken Wade. Laramie said you’re looking for a private riding lesson tonight.”
I blow out a breath. “That’s me …”
He lets out a low, confident chuckle. “Good. Let’s be real clear, darlin’. According to Laramie, you’d like me to train you to be the wife your husband never wants to leave? The kind who keeps him so satisfied he forgets any other woman even exists?”
Heat rushes over me. “Yes,” I whisper. “I’m sorry and mortified to admit it, but that’s exactly what I want.”
“No need to be embarrassed about being honest.” His voice is warm, easy-breezy, and affectionate, making me feel more at ease.
“Here’s what I’m thinking. How about I come to your room?
When you hear my knock, you act as if we’re married and greet me after a long day at work.
Does that sound good? Are you ready to play pretend, sweetheart? ”
“I think so.”
“Think harder.” His tone dips. “You need to be one hundred percent all in with this. You want help. I’m here to give it, but we don’t have time for games tonight, so I’ll ask again. Are you sure about this?”
“Yes.” I stare down at my feet. “I’m ready.”
“I’ll see you soon, then.” Click. He’s gone, and I’m left looking at the phone like it just set me on fire.
I hurry to the bathroom to freshen up. After brushing and flossing my teeth, I give my lips another coat of gloss and try to steady my breathing.
Then three hard knocks echo through the room.
I smooth my dress one last time, dash out, and with my heart in my throat, open the door.
“Hello, Maisie.”
I’m stunned. I wasn’t expecting my mystery date to look like he just walked off the set of Yellowstone, but I’m not complaining.
Brecken Wade fills the entire doorway, all six-foot-four of raw, muscled cowboy.
With his brown hair tousled under the brim of a worn Stetson, and his brown-hazel eyes locked on me like I’m prey and a prize all at once, I swallow hard.
What have I gotten myself into? His flannel shirt stretches across his chest, barely containing his muscles.
I drop my gaze to his jeans without thinking, and the bulge behind the zipper makes me quickly look back up at his face.
I blank out for a second, then remember his instructions, and step forward. I’d be lying if I said it was difficult. Getting a good whiff of his leather, pine, and alpha male scent, I rise on my tiptoes, wrap my arms around his neck, and give him a soft peck on the cheek. “Welcome home, honey.”
He cocks his head, lifting a brow as a slow, wicked smirk spreads across his face.
“That’s it?”
I blink, pulling back. “Well … If you were my real husband, you might be tired after a long day, or need some space after work. I didn’t want to—”
“No, no, no, darlin’.” He moves into the room and gently boots the door shut before zeroing in on me again. He cages me with his body, planting one rough hand in my hair behind my ear. The other tips my chin up so I have no choice but to meet those fiery eyes.
“What I need? What every man needs when he comes home is to have his wife waiting with hard little nipples poking through whatever she’s wearing, pussy already wet and aching for him. He wants her dying to fuck him the second his boots hit the floor. Anytime. Every damn time.”
What? I’ve never met anyone who cuts to the chase like this. Brecken’s as overwhelming as he is hotter than hell. “That’s it? Men only care about getting physical? That can’t be true.”
He leans in, brushing his lips against the shell of my ear, sending sprays of electricity through my veins.
“It’s nature, baby,” he says in a low growl.
“Deep down, sure, we want the sweet talk, the laughs, the partner. But if you keep us fucked good and often, we’ll put up with damn near anything else life throws at us. So kiss me like you mean it this time.”
Before I can second-guess myself, he slides one firm, possessive hand around the back of my neck, tugs me closer, and captures my mouth.
The kiss is slow and deliberate at first. His lips mold to mine, coaxing, and tasting of fresh mint with a hint of whiskey.
When I part my lips and his tongue slides in and strokes mine, my head starts spinning.
I melt against him with a soft whimper.
His free hand drifts down my side, skimming the curve of my waist, then up.
Oh my. He wasn’t kidding. He isn’t messing around.
His thumb brushes the underside of my breast before circling my nipple through the thin fabric.
It pebbles instantly, tight and aching. He pinches lightly, rolling it between his rough fingers, making me gasp into his kiss as wetness floods my panties.
My hips arch toward him without permission, but he pulls back, just enough to look at me with glassy, needy eyes.
I detect the faintest flicker of surprise.
Maybe he hadn’t expected the kiss to feel quite so much like coming home either.
“Like that,” he rasps with approval. “Greedy tongue, and arching into my hand like you can’t help it. That’s the welcome home every man wants.”
He blatantly adjusts the massive ridge in his pants and heads to the door.
I’m trembling, wobbly on my feet, still tasting his kiss. “Where are you going?”
“I’m not sure you’re thoroughly ready for me tonight. You still seem a bit tense and distracted.” He raises his brows. “Does your fiancé know what you’re doing? Are you cheating on him? Is that why you’re nervous?”
“No!” I blurt, “I swear, he’s totally cool with this.”
He shakes his head as if he can’t believe it without taking his eyes off me. “Hard to imagine a man who’s fine with another man fucking his woman.”
“It isn’t like that,” I explain, feeling ridiculous. “He’s having his bachelor party this weekend, and I flat out admitted there was a chance I might meet someone. He told me to have fun. That we weren’t married yet and I could use the experience. We have the rest of our lives to be faithful.”
“Well, that doesn’t make a lick of sense to me, but it’s not my place to judge your relationship. How long will you be here?”
“Four days, three nights, tonight, tomorrow and Saturday.”
“What do you think about starting over tomorrow night, so you can get a massage, take a hot tub or something, to loosen up before I get here.”
I’m tempted to tell him I already had a deep tissue massage and a bubble bath. This is me, relaxed.
“Our little project is going to take a few days, sweetheart,” he says, moving his hand to the door knob. His eyes rake over me and I get the feeling he’s already stripping me down to nothing in his mind. “We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”
I nod breathlessly. “I agree. I’m nervous. I’ve never done anything like this before.”
“Well, now you know what’s coming. Tomorrow night, give me a real welcome. Wear a short, slinky dress. No bra. No panties. Act like you’ve been thinking about me all day and can’t wait for me to be inside you. I want to slide my hand up your thigh and feel how soaked you are just from waiting.”
His gaze drops to my thighs, to my toes, and back to my face, promising every filthy thing.
“And Maisie?” He pauses in the doorway, flashing that dangerous cowboy smirk. “Start thinking about how bad you want to please me, because tomorrow I’m going to teach you exactly what a good wife does the second her man’s home.”
He tips his hat once, then he’s gone.
Tomorrow feels like a lifetime away and way too close all at once.
***
Brecken
I step out of Maisie’s suite and ease the door shut behind me. My boots thud against the polished floor as I head toward the lobby, but my mind’s still back in that room with her soft curves pressed against me, hearing the sweet moan she let slip when my thumb found her nipple.
Damn, she felt a little too good. Too right. Like she was made to fit in my arms. I can still taste her pink lip gloss … I shake my head, trying to clear the fog.
What is wrong with me? I’ve done this gig for Laramie before. Many times, and never once have I walked away feeling confused as hell.
Why would any sane man be okay with someone else touching his girl? She said her fiancé gave her the green light. Who says, “Have fun babe?” Who lets a woman like Maisie walk into a place like this and hand her over for “training”?
She’s marrying him next week. Shouldn’t she be over the moon?
Glowing, giggling about dresses and flowers, not quietly terrified she won’t be enough to keep him satisfied long-term?
The worry in her voice when she whispered “yes” to me on the phone twisted something in my gut.
She’s too sweet, too young, and too damn perfect to carry that kind of doubt.
I hit the lobby and slow my stride. Pleasure Ranch at night feels different, with the dim lights casting a warm gold over the massive stone fireplace.
The check-in desk is polished to a gleam.
Behind it, the wide windows frame the dark Montana hills, with the stars punching through the black sky like diamonds.
I round the corner and see Laramie’s working late. She peeks up from her computer with her reading glasses perched on her nose. “Brecken Wade. That was fast. Did I strike out and send you to a dud?”
“You? Fail to make a match?” I give her a grin. “Nah. We’re meeting again tomorrow night. It’s complicated. Tonight was our warm up.”
Laramie tilts her head, studying me like she can see straight through the bullshit. “Riding lessons aren’t that complex, Brecken. Are you positive she didn’t scare you?”
I snort. “Don’t be ridiculous. Just doing the job.”
“Sure you are. Go get some rest, cowboy. You’ve got horses to wrangle at dawn.”
“No doubt, they’ll be waiting the minute my eyes open. Have a good night.” I tip my hat with a smile and push through the heavy front doors.
The cool night air hits me with the scents of pine and sage as I take the winding path behind the main resort building to the staff bunkhouse.
Pleasure Ranch is close to a decent chunk of land I own a few miles east, where I run a small herd, and collect pretty much any stray that comes along. I’ve got a menagerie of cattle, horses, dogs, cats, turkeys, even a couple of ornery goats that wandered in last spring.
I only pick up shifts here a few times a week, and it saves time when I spend the night. My crew will cover for me tomorrow, they always do. Most of them have been with me for years, and I trust them with my life, besides, a cold shower will do me good.
I open the door to the main room, smelling coffee, leather and boot polish. The TV’s blasting, and the fire’s roaring. Some of the guys are sprawled on the worn couches with their eyes glued to the screen, where some bull rider’s getting tossed in slow motion.
“Breck! Get over here, man,” Tommy calls out from the recliner, waving a beer. “You gotta see the replay.”
Another hand, Ricky, grins from the floor where he’s nursing a whiskey. “Yeah, c’mon. You look like you could use a cold one after whatever kept you out so late.”
I force a laugh. “Appreciate it, boys, but I have an early start. Horses don’t feed themselves.”
Tommy snorts. “What happened to the Brecken who’d stay up watchin’ highlights till dawn?”
“He’s gotta shower and crash,” I say, already heading down the narrow corridor to my room. Mine is one of the few with a queen-sized bed and a private bathroom. We’re a bit low on staff, so none of us have had to share a space in months.
I place my hat on the hook and strip down, tossing my shirt and jeans over the chair. The shower’s hot, and steam fills the tiny tiled space. I stand under the spray, letting it pound my shoulders, but it does nothing to wash her out of my mind.
Maisie. The way she melted into that kiss. How wet she got just from my mouth on hers. Christ.
I brace a hand on the wall and let the water stream down my back, reminding myself that tonight was only a date with a hotel guest I won’t see again. This is primarily a favor for Laramie. One weekend, a few lessons, then she walks down the aisle to some idiot who doesn’t deserve her.
But as I towel off and get under the cool sheets, I can’t shake the image of her big blue eyes, long brown hair, and those delicious swollen lips.
I stare at the ceiling beams with my pulse still thick and heavy with lust.
She’s already under my skin. Falling asleep is going to take a while.