Masters 01 Master of the Mountain (15 page)

Feeling absurdly brave, she knelt beside him and ruffled the fur on his neck.

With a low whine, he shoved his head into her lap, knocking her onto her rear.

A breath of fear quaked through her, and then she laughed. “Bully.” Sitting up, she wrapped an arm over his back. He licked her cheek and leaned in. God, he was sweet.

“So, my friend,” she asked him and watched his ears prick up. “Shall we draw Ashley with a really big nose to match her tits? And plump her lips up to the size of dinner plates?”

* * * * *

Logan stood in the shadows of the forest, waiting for his brother and watching Thor cozy up to the city girl. He saw her stifle her fear—brave little sub—then laugh and hug the dog. She'd come a long way in just a day, hadn't she?

Damned if she didn't pull at him like a riptide off the coast. An assertive city girl whose vulnerability over her looks could break a man's heart. That stubborn courage that let her pet Thor. Her soft mouth and obstinate chin and willingness to share her passion even when he shocked her. The woman would never be boring, would she?

Jake walked out the back door and almost tripped over the two. Regaining his balance, he said a couple of words, making Becca smile. He walked across the clearing to join Logan, and they headed up Jackass Trail.

“Pretty little redhead there,” Jake said casually.

“Uh-huh.” Logan ducked under a low-hanging branch.

“Looks well used. Must have had a good night.” A second's pause. “I noticed her wrists were bruised.”

“Uh-huh.” A low bark sounded behind them, and a few seconds later, Thor appeared on the trail, trotting to catch up.

“She's wearing your flannel shirt.”

Logan knew that when an idea stuck in Jake's head, he held on more relentlessly than a damned bulldog. “You got a point to make here?”

Jake reached down to scratch Thor's head. “I thought we agreed not to fuck women in the swinger groups.”

Logan stopped. Hell. They'd made that rule before opening the place, and neither of them had broken it. Until now. “She's no swinger. In fact, she almost froze to death on the porch to avoid becoming one. I put her in my bed then and…” Their father'd always said only weaklings use excuses. “
Stand up for what you did
.” Logan turned to face his brother and nodded. “Yes, I broke the rule.”

“She's submissive?”

Logan sighed. They were both dominants, and Jake would see her appeal. “Yep.”

Jake leaned a shoulder against an incense cedar, and a grin appeared on his face. “'Bout time. You going to keep her?”

“You're sure a nosy bastard.” Logan scrubbed his face, feeling the stubble. He'd forgotten to shave again. “She's a city girl. She belongs there, not here.”

“That's a shame. She looks good in the shirt—better than you do.”

Logan grinned. She did look good.

“Why don't you keep her?” As Jake turned to scratch his back against the tree trunk, the dappled sunlight illumined his face. Hard and lean and tanned, like Logan's. But Logan's face lacked the long scar across his forehead, because he hadn't been attacked by his brother in the middle of the night and almost killed.

Logan forced his eyes away from Jake's scar, feeling the heavy weight of guilt in his gut where it never left. And neither would the memory of being trapped in a building, bullets ricocheting off the walls, fighting off a berserk insurgent. He'd awakened from the familiar dream that night with real blood covering his hands and a real knife at his feet. Across the bedroom, Jake had struggled to his feet, blood streaming down his face. “
Wake up, Logan, dammit
.”

Logan's voice came out harsh. “And when I have a nightmare and try to strangle little Becca, will she still be pretty then?” The lines around Jake's mouth deepened, and Logan turned away before he could see pity in his brother's eyes.

“You tell her about them?” Jake asked.

“That I have a tendency to try to kill people when I wake up on the wrong side of hell? Get real.” Jesus, wouldn't that be a pleasant discussion? “I don't talk about my nightmares. Ever.”

“You going to stay alone forever?”

“Damn right.” God knew Wendy couldn't handle the stress. His wife had bailed out long before Logan had attacked Jake. “It doesn't matter anyway. Becca will go home on Wednesday, knowing more about herself. A win-win experience.”

“Yeah? And what have you learned about yourself, bro?”

Jake left after they'd moved the heaviest sections of the tree. Logan found a shady spot and caught two hours of sleep before returning to the job of cleaning up the trail. He dragged the remainder of the debris off, shored up a section with rebar and wood braces, and cleaned out a dammed-up stream.

Wiping sweat from his brow, he scowled back down the trail. All that work, and only two miles or so accomplished. A flash of emerald green caught his eyes, and he frowned. Another flash. A hiker on the trail. One of the guests?

As he listened, he tossed more rocks into a muddy hole. Eventually he heard the soft crunch of dry pine needles.
Incoming
. He turned and saw Rebecca.

Pleasure shot through him at the sight of her, and he scowled in reaction. After leaving Jake, he'd decided to stay completely away from the city girl. She didn't need a damaged soldier, and he didn't need the heartbreak, because, dammit, she could easily break his heart. Another night of fun, and they'd both be hurting.

He glanced at the trail behind her and saw no one. “What are you doing hiking alone?”

A shaft of sunlight turned her eyes a clear green, and her hair glinted red and gold as she pushed back loose strands. “Everyone else went to some meadow, and I hate sitting around all day. I didn't realize you were up this trail. Sorry.”

Ignoring his rules by hiking alone. Would have avoided him if she could.
Two strikes
. Anger stirred within him. Would she fail the third? He stepped closer.

Her eyes widened, and then he took her lips. She didn't pull away but offered her mouth, soft and open.

Threading his fingers through her hair, he tilted her head to give him complete access. When he stepped back, her face was flushed with arousal, and his anger disappeared under his own stirring lust. Dammit, she could tempt a priest to sin.

She broke the rules. Concentrate on that, not sex
. He fisted the hand in her hair. “The rules of the lodge are no hiking alone. Did you forget?”

“Uh.” She huffed out a breath. “No. I just wanted to hike and didn't have anyone to go with me.”

Deliberate disobedience, but honest at least. He slid his hand down to cover her throat and grip her neck gently. “Rebecca. Don't do it again. Am I clear?”

“Clear,” she said softly.

Under his fingers, her pulse increased, the compelling response of a submissive under control. He hardened. And changed his mind about escorting her back to the lodge, staying away from her, and not breaking any hearts, including his own.

“Since you're here, I guess I'll make use of you,” he murmured.

“Okay, I'd be happy to help work on your trail,” she said, her eyes on the shovel lying in the brush. When his fingers undid the first button of her flannel shirt, her startled gaze met his.

“I have a different kind of use in mind.” He slid his hand under her bra and cupped her firmly. The startled intake of breath made him smile. He was thinking of all kinds of use.

* * * * *

The place where the swingers were headed couldn't be more beautiful than this, Rebecca thought, as they crested a hill and saw a tiny mountain meadow awash with purple and yellow wildflowers. The low hum of honeybees busy at harvest vied with the soft swish of the grasses in the breeze.

As they walked into the clearing, Logan released her hand and grasped her wrist.

Rebecca shivered, realizing with that move, he'd deliberately established she was under his control. She looked up and saw him waiting for her reaction. The man—the
Dom
—watched what she did more closely than anyone ever had. It made her feel vulnerable, almost as if he could read her mind.

As if she'd said just that, he stopped and tilted her chin up. “What was that thought?”

“Excuse me, but you don't get to know every thought I have.” She tried to pull her face away, to back up.

He not only didn't release her but he crowded closer, his eyes darkening to a steely gray. “Normally during the day, your thoughts are your own. When you share my bed or when we are together like this”—he held up her arm where his fingers shackled her wrist—“then you will share your thoughts and your feelings. Openly and honestly.”

She swallowed. The heat coursing through her body at his words contrasted with the quaking deep inside her. She liked talking with people but not sharing private emotions. They were meant to be private.

“Once again,” he said softly. “You were thinking what?” His fingers kept her chin up; his thumb stroked over her cheek.

“Rebecca, do not lie to me,” he warned, derailing that idea.

The sternness in his eyes and voice made her legs feel like overcooked spaghetti noodles.

His gaze softened. “Ah, sweetheart, this is very new to you.” With a half laugh, he gathered her into his arms, his strong chest under her cheek, his arms like iron bands around her.

With a breath of relief, she put her arms around him. God, it felt good to be held. He scared her sometimes and—

“I'm waiting.”