Natalie Acres (12 page)

“What if she wants me back, Brock? Have you ever stopped to ask Trixie what she wants?”

“Oh for God’s sake, quit arguing over me like I’m not even in the room!” Trixie screamed, jumping to her feet. “I’ve listened to you talk around me as if I don’t have a say in this. I’m sick of it.”

“How would you like for us to handle this then, Trixie?” Rory asked.

Her pretty blue eyes looked like melted ice. She stared at Mitch as if he were the only man worthy of her attention and that alone sent a hard stab into Brock’s gut.

“You still love him?” Brock asked.

Without missing a beat, she said, “I love Mitch as much as the day I let him go but I’m not willing to take him back until he proves he is here to stay.”

* * * *

Cash paced the floor of Colony’s lakefront home. He grew more and more agitated with every step.

The sun would rise soon and Mitch would return. Cash came to an abrupt stop. His heartbeat slowed, barely keeping a turtle’s pace.

Would Mitch return?

Several chimes in the hallway announced the arrival of the five o’clock hour. Mitch had left right after he’d discovered Trixie was at the camp. He hadn’t bothered to make small talk. He hadn’t asked about his life or what had happened at the prison after his departure.

He hadn’t inquired about anything at all.

He’d possessed one clear focus, only one. He wanted to go to Trixie and see if he still had a chance with her.

Some fucking friend.

Cash paced again. This time, he walked to the floor-to-ceiling window and drew back his fist.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!” he screamed aloud as he propelled his arm behind him, but right before his fist connected with the glass, he caught himself.

Trembling, he clutched his balled hand and backed away from the window. What was wrong with him? He had to pull himself together. He needed to find the inner strength to keep up this façade or else Colony would ask him to leave, and he could not do that.

No. He refused to go before his time.

An evil laugh resounded. Gripping the doorknobs on the French doors, he stepped outside and inhaled the fresh mountain air.

“Freedom!” he yelled, the sinister chuckles returning.

The Colony family had lived a glorious life. If this was the view they’d enjoyed during the summers, then they were fortunate indeed. For a split second, he considered how he, too, might own a piece of paradise.

He could kill the men, bury their bodies, and take occupancy of the camp. Then he and Trixie could live there together. Perhaps they’d even start a family of their own. With Mitch and the other two out of the way, he had a feeling Trixie would come to depend upon him.

He sat on a lounger, kicked his feet out in front of him, and crossed his ankles. “Yes, indeed. I could get used to this kind of living.”

Several speedboats raced across the waters. The hard-hitting sounds of bows hammering against the wakes resounded.

“What a beautiful melody,” he said, returning to the preliminary stages of his killing plan.

Knock off Colony. Dispose of Colony’s buddies. Make the murders look like they were committed by Trixie and convince her that he’s the only man who can save her.

He narrowed his gaze on a fishing boat easing its way into the cove. The pink and orange hues parted the dark sky as the sun slowly made its way into the morning. The lone fisherman stood and tossed his pole over his shoulder, the silver shimmering against the water as the line was cast and disappeared into the lake.

Returning to his scheme, Cash realized there were a few flaws in his plan. For starters, he liked Mitch Colony. He was an odd guy, a real asshole at times, but he liked him. Mitch was a friend.

He revisited their last conversation. Mitch had told him to make himself at home. He’d even said he could hang around as long as he liked, so he had received an open invitation to stay on there.

If Cash found a way to make himself useful, perhaps he could live there forever. Then—he spread his arms wide and closed his eyes—all of this could be his. But that didn’t solve his problem—the real reason why he’d arrived at Cow Camp in the first place.

He’d gone there so he could figure out the best way to pursue Trixie Cartwell Sheldon. Somewhere along the way, his luck had greatly improved because Trixie had come to him. He wouldn’t have to begin a long search.

He dismissed the idea of his woman curled up in bed with two or three men. He would later decide what he wanted to do about her apparent obsession for other fellows.

First, he needed to arrange a face-to-face meeting. In fact, before he decided the fates of the other men there, he wanted to see if he could hold his own in a lineup with them.

Maybe she would find him attractive. If so, who could say what the future held? Perhaps she had room in her bed for one more.

There was only one way to find out. He would go to the lodge. It was time to meet the woman who held her lovers’ futures in her dainty hands.

“Ah yes, Trixie. Ready or not, lady, here I come.”

There was something about a Cow Camp sunrise that made all others pale in comparison. When Trixie had been a counselor there, she’d often set her alarm clock for the sole purpose of watching the sun come up. A few times, Brock had joined her there at the ski docks, but most of the time, she’d enjoyed the peace and quiet alone.

“You’ll hold this against me,” she said, sensing Brock behind her. “I know you’ll never forgive me. I saw it in your eyes when we were back there talking to Mitch.”

Brock locked his arms around her waist and drew her against him. He took a deep breath and nuzzled her hair. “I knew I’d find you here.”

“You’re avoiding the subject.”

“Let’s just enjoy this moment,” Brock whispered, nipping at her ear. “Do you remember how we used to watch the sunrise together?”

She laughed. “This was the only place you knew for sure you’d find me alone.”

“Hmm,” he muttered, holding her still tighter.

The hard length of his cock stretched his denim and rubbed against her bottom. She relaxed in his grip, letting him guide their movements as he casually swayed from side to side.

“I thought you were the prettiest woman I’d ever seen.”

She glanced over her shoulder. “No you did not. You thought I was spoiled, headstrong, and too innocent for you.”

“That, too,” he said, stilling behind her.

The quietness then spoke volumes and she wondered what he was thinking, what he and Mitch had said to one another, and what Rory and Mitch might be discussing now that she and Brock were nowhere to be found.

She folded her hands over his and stared across the lake. “Do you ever think about our first night together?”

“Of course I do.”

“Any regrets?”

“About being your first? No.”

She giggled.

“What’s so funny?”

“What you said.”

“Just now?” Brock asked.

“No, back then,” she replied, turning to face him. Throwing her arms over his shoulders, she quickly added, “I remember I told you I wanted you to be my first and—”

“And I said, ‘What if you like it so much you want me to be your last.’”

“Yes you did,” she whispered. Framing his face, she left a peck on his lips and added, “What if I had taken you up on that proposition then. Where would we be now, Brock?”

He stretched his neck and kept his lips away from her, dodging a second peck. He took her hand in his and planted kisses across her knuckles before leading her across the walkway to the small floating dock.

“Sit with me, Trixie,” he said, rolling up his jeans and kicking off his shoes.

“You aren’t going to answer me?”

He shot her a quick glance. Arching a brow, he firmly planted his palms against the dock.

“Have it your way.” She stripped away her pajama pants.

“Ah fuck,” he grumbled.

“What’s wrong, Brock? Is skinny-dipping too childish for you now?”

“We need to talk first.” He sat down and dipped his toes in the water. Looking out over the lake, he patted the vacant spot beside him.

“You need to loosen up.” She flopped down next to him. She fluttered her feet under the water’s surface, still captivated by the morning sunrise. “Just answer my question.”

“You wouldn’t like my answer.”

Trixie stopped wiggling her feet. “You don’t think the two of us would’ve made it alone?”

“No I don’t,” he replied honestly.

“Well that hurt like a slap in the face,” she admitted.

Brock lifted her hand and laced their fingers together. “Let me tell you why.”

“I know why,” she bit out. “You think it takes more than one man to make me happy.”

“I know it takes more than one man to keep you sexually satisfied, Trixie.”

“You make me sound like a whore.”

“No, I make you sound like a vibrant young woman with an overactive sex drive, but there’s more to it. I want you to listen to me.” He bent his knee and shifted his weight, turning to her at the same time. “I protect you. I watch over you. I would cut off my own limbs just to ensure your happiness always came first. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you because it’s my responsibility to make sure your happiness comes first.

“A long time ago, a very wise man told me, ‘A man worth his salt spoils his woman before he finds pleasure for himself’ and I’ve tried to follow his advice.”

“Daddy Kane told you that.”

“Yes, but his words have stuck with me for several reasons. Kane told me something my own father once mentioned as well. If your woman isn’t happy, healthy, and filled with love, then you haven’t done your job as a husband and as a man.”

“I’ve heard Dad say that before,” she said. “And Mom puts her own spin on things as well.”

“I’m sure she does, but your dads have made sure your mother has everything her heart desires.”

“That’s true, but…Brock, where are you going with all this?”

“I gave up something for you, Trixie. Something I’ve never mentioned before now, but with Mitch resurfacing, we need to discuss it.”

“What are you talking about? Did I ever ask you to make sacrifices for me?” Trixie searched his eyes. “You know I didn’t, Brock. Your happiness is very important to me.”

“I believe that.”

“Then why do I feel like the most selfish woman in the world right now?”

Brock narrowed his gaze. “You know what I don’t have, Trixie, and what I couldn’t ask of you because of what you’d suffered through with Pratchert. After you lost Mitch, there was no way I could ask you, let alone train you for the life.”

Trixie gulped. Brock studied her more intently.

“You realize where I’m going with this and what I’m about to say.”

A double shot of arousal licked at her pussy lips. Her nipples spiked at the deeply rooted and quite guttural sound of pure male longing strumming through his voice.

“You wanted a submissive woman.”

“I wanted a submissive woman,” he agreed.

“And it took how many years for you to tell me this?” Trixie slowly shook her head, but rapidly processed. “Don’t you put this on me if I haven’t given you everything you needed, Brock. You were man enough to ask. You’ve never had a problem voicing your expectations, or even your demands.”

“Honey, I’m not placing blame,” he said, squeezing her hand. “If the lifestyle had been important to me, I would’ve mentioned it before now.”

“And why are you just now bringing it up, Brock? Why—if this is who and what you are—have you decided to reveal yourself now?” She ran her fingers through her hair. “Talk about making your other half feel like a complete failure.”

“Trixie, don’t. I’m opening up and telling you what I need, what I’d like to have in my woman—you—and you’re trying to turn this around on me.”

“And make it about you?” She balked at that. “It
is
about you, Brock. What you need and want is about
your
wants and needs. Not mine.”

“Ror—”

“Don’t you dare put this on Rory,” she snapped, shaking her index finger at him. “Rory made his position known early in our relationship. No, he didn’t want hard-core Dom-sub practices commencing under his nose. He didn’t like the idea of his wife wearing a collar with decorative locks, but he wasn’t opposed to role play.

“Let me remind you of something else. Rory has been present several times when we’ve played our parts and had a little fun with some light bondage stuff.”

“Damn it, Trixie! I’m not talking about a little tap on the ass here. We aren’t discussing frilly handcuffs under lock and key!” Brock grabbed hold of her shoulders and jerked her forward.

The force he used left her panting, almost drooling. She was turned on and realized why. It didn’t take a psychologist to put it all out there in black and white.

She swallowed the lump in her throat. They stared at one another and she remembered their exciting first night together. While she wouldn’t describe Brock as a forceful or powerful Dom, she’d always known what existed beneath the surface. She’d understood where his interests were and she’d accepted the fact that he had been deeply embedded in the lifestyle prior to meeting her.