The Expert's Guide to Driving a Man Wild (11 page)

And he gave her a wicked, wicked smile.

She might have trembled a little at the sight of it. He leaned in and did no more than breathe close to her skin, and she shivered madly. “I think I like this game.”

“I think you will,” Grant agreed, and his mouth moved to the mound of her sex. As she watched in fascination, his tongue dipped between the lips of her pussy and slicked over her piercing and her clit.

She moaned. Oh God, that was erotic. Both the touch and the fact that she was watching all of this from her vantage point was really, really hot. She wanted to put her hands on his head and direct him, but she had to hold her legs back.

Grant nuzzled in, moving deeper, and his tongue circled her piercing and her clit. He experimented a little, pinching her flesh in a way that caused her piercing to rub perfectly against her clit, and then began to lick again, flicking and caressing at that sensitive bud of flesh.

Her body, still twitching from the last orgasm, began to quake with need. And the more she trembled, the faster he seemed to lick, clearly relishing her response. Brenna cried out as the intensity of his attentions grew more fierce, and she began to give small jerks of her hips in response, whimpering each time. She wanted to pull away; she wanted to push against his mouth. He was making low sounds of pleasure in his throat as well, as if he loved the taste of her.

One finger slid deep into her pussy, and he curled it, stroking her from inside.

“Grant, oh damn. I love it when you touch me like that,” Brenna moaned, unable to take her eyes off his mouth devouring her, fascinated by the occasional flash of her piercing, the constant slicking of his tongue. “It’s almost too much.”

“I’ll stop when you scream,” he murmured, and she felt every movement of his lips against her flesh, which caused her to be wracked with an entirely new set of shudders.

“I’m a lot of things, baby, but I’m not a screamer,” Brenna told him breathlessly.

“That remains to be seen,” Grant said, and he was so smug with purpose that she was fascinated. “But I think you’re trying to distract me, aren’t you?”

“Never.”

“Mmm.” He pinched the flesh around her piercing again, making it push against her clit once more. When she moaned and wriggled in response, he began to flick his tongue over her again, the curled finger working inside her pussy.

She came a moment later, shattering, her leg muscles tightening so hard that she thought her entire body would snap. But the only sound she made was a soft gurgle in the back of her throat that was more of a choked cry than a real, honest-to-goodness scream.

“Not quite,” Grant said, seemingly pleased at her response. “Guess we’ll have to try again.”

And she moaned as he bent over her flesh again.

The Make Brenna Scream game lasted for about fifteen minutes longer. By that time, she was insensible with desire, had orgasmed twice more, and was twitching every time he touched her. The last time she came, she came so hard that a rush of liquid flooded out of her, and Grant seemed even more pleased at eliciting that response from her. She’d screamed with that last orgasm, though, and screamed his name to boot, which seemed to satisfy Grant immensely.

After that? She’d been too tired and sleepy to protest when he’d dragged her into the shower and supported her as she cleaned off. He’d tenderly toweled her dry and then hauled her to bed, and she could have sworn that he’d kissed her temple before drifting off to sleep.

That was entirely too possessive of him, she’d decided. And she’d tell him so. Tomorrow, when she had the energy. Brenna rolled over and propped her head against Grant’s chest and fell asleep.

 • • • 

When Brenna woke up, she was alone in Grant’s bed. She yawned and stretched and glanced around for him, but he was nowhere to be seen.
Huh.
Wasn’t like him. She shrugged it off. He was probably giving her the space she wanted, and she liked that. Rifling through his drawers, she found a pair of boxers and a sports T-shirt and pulled them on. Then, still yawning, she left his cabin and headed for the main lodge, since it was a work day.

After all, just because she was having casual sex with the boss didn’t mean that she didn’t have to work.

Brenna padded into the main lodge and went straight for the kitchen, skirting the living room. She was starving, and she was pretty sure there was some cereal somewhere in one of the cabinets, since Beth Ann insisted on having normal breakfasts and thought Brenna should, too. Sure enough, there was a box of whole grain something or other. Brenna opened the box and took a handful of cereal directly from it and popped it into her mouth. Then she went to the fridge, drank some milk directly from the carton, and paused.

It sure was quiet for a work day. She glanced at the clock. Seven fifty-eight. That meant the guys should have been coming by, but it was too quiet. Carton of milk still in hand, Brenna took another drink and headed out into the living area of the lodge that also functioned as the main office.

Three sets of eyes stared back at her.

Colt. Dane. And the new guy, who sat on the couch with his arms crossed. Grant and his sister were nowhere to be seen. And Colt and Dane were frowning at her in a major way.

Brenna took another swig of milk. “Morning.”

Dane made a face and leapt up from his seat to rescue the carton of milk from her. “Don’t drink straight out of the carton, Brenna. That’s nasty. We all drink that milk.”

“Why is it nasty?” she protested.

Dane yanked the milk carton from her hand and headed to the kitchen with it. “We don’t know where your mouth has been,” he called behind him.

“Or do we?” Colt said in a dry voice, giving her a look of reproach.

She rolled her eyes and headed to her desk. “I take it Pop’s been here already? That man gossips more than a school girl.”

“Well,” Colt drawled. “It’s not every day that two people who profess to hate each other start shacking up.”

“We’re not shacking up,” she told him, exasperated. Brenna moved to the end of the couch, near where Colt sat, and thumped down. “Elise needed to borrow my blankets, so I slept over at Grant’s.”

“And he requires kissing before letting you use one of his pillows?”

She scowled at him. “Exactly how much did Pop tell you?” She’d known that they’d be talking about it this morning. “And where’s Grant, anyhow?”

“Grant took Elise to get breakfast, since someone still hasn’t done grocery shopping,” Dane said cheerfully, wiping his hands as he returned to the living room. “And that milk was expired, so I tossed it. You’re welcome.”

She made a face. “I’ll go grocery shopping soon enough. Get off my jock.”

“You don’t have a jock. You’re a chick,” Dane said, bouncing down on the couch next to her. “And I’m glad someone went and got breakfast. I’m starving.”

“Doesn’t Miranda feed you before she turns you loose?” Colt asked.

“My cabin isn’t wired for electricity, remember? So unless I wanted beef jerky for breakfast, Miranda told me I was on my own.” He grinned.

“I don’t blame her. I wouldn’t want to light a fire just to feed your ass Pop-Tarts,” Brenna said, elbowing him. Everyone thought it was weird that Dane preferred to go off the grid for his small cabin, but it made him happy, so whatever.

He elbowed her back and looped a thick arm around her neck, dragging her against him in a headlock. “So, you gonna tell me and Colt how come you decided to mindfuck Grant and sleep with him?”

She twisted the hairs on his arm to try and make him let go of her, squirming out of his grasp when he eased up.
Boys. Sheesh.
“I’m not mindfucking him!” After a moment, she added, “At least, it’s not his mind I’m fucking.”

“I knew it. They’re sleeping together.” Colt shot Dane a triumphant look.

“Damn it.” Dane reached into his pocket and slapped a five down into Colt’s outstretched hand. “I lost that bet.”

“So fess up, Brenna. How long has this been going on?”

“About two days.”

Colt grunted. “Thought it’d been longer, honestly.”

Her brows drew together. Longer? “I’m just pretending to be his girlfriend while his parents visit.”

“Dang. You really get into character, don’t you?” Dane whistled.

She elbowed him again, because he was getting on her nerves. “What’s the big deal? I can’t fuck a guy without everyone thinking we’re married? The eighteenth century called and they want their morals back.”

“Again,” Colt drawled, “you don’t normally fuck someone you can’t stand.”

Since when did everyone think she couldn’t stand Grant? Brenna glanced over at Colt, curious. She liked Grant. She liked all three men who she worked with. It was just that Grant nitpicked so very much that she felt like she had to give him a hard time. Did that mean they thought she hated him?

Did Grant think that, too? That couldn’t be the case, because why would he start proclaiming her his girlfriend if he hated her?

So, you gonna tell me and Colt how come you decided to mindfuck Grant and sleep with him?

It wasn’t a mindfuck . . . was it? Suddenly irritated at both men, Brenna leapt up from the sofa . . . and realized Rome was still sitting in a chair across the room, watching them, his arms crossed over his chest. The situation probably seemed odd to him—Brenna and Dane horsing around on the couch and Colt giving her a pop quiz about her sleeping arrangements. She rather hoped that Grant hadn’t had time to quiz him yet. She smiled brightly at Rome. “Been here long?”

“Not long,” he said quietly.

“Did the boys say hello?”

Dane frowned, his handsome face a bit confused. “I thought he was the plumber and that Grant had called him. Some idiot flushed something down the toilet again, you know.”

“A tampon,” Brenna said. At Dane’s look of horrified disgust, she explained, “For Pop. And Rome’s our new employee, not the plumber.”

“He got good credentials?” Colt turned his narrow-eyed gaze on Rome, sizing him up. The dark skullcap of hair, the tattoos, the guarded expression on his face.

“I don’t know, but he’s sure pretty, isn’t he?” Brenna beamed at Rome approvingly. “He’ll be perfect for the shoot Elise wants to do. Girls love a bad boy spattered with mud.”

“Shoot?” Colt asked.

“Mud?” Dane inquired.

Brenna waved a hand. “Long story. I’ll tell you some other time.”

Rome strode forward and offered his hand to Colt and Dane. “Pleased to meet you. I won’t let you down.”

Colt grunted again. It might have been a sign of approval. You could never tell with Colt. “We’ll have to sit down and jaw sometime. For now, though, I need to head out. I’m speaking at a local elementary school.”

Dane groaned and got to his feet. “And since we don’t have classes today, Miranda’s dragging me to go taste cakes.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Rome said.

“It’s at a tea parlor.” Dane grimaced. “I’m picturing gray-haired old ladies sipping from china with their pinkies out. I told her she should have taken Brenna, but then her feelings got hurt, so here I am.” He shrugged. “So I’d better get going. See you guys later.” He headed out the front door, whistling.

Colt rolled his eyes. “For all the bellyaching Dane does, you’d think he’s the most henpecked man in the world. What he doesn’t tell you is that if Miranda has so much as a tear in her eye, he loses his shit and bends over backward to make her happy.” Colt shook his head and headed toward the door.

Brenna bit back her own smirk because Colt had more or less described, not just Dane, but Colt’s relationship with Beth Ann to a tee. She turned to Rome as the two men exited and gave him a cheerful smile. “Guess you’re stuck with me for your first day.”

His blue eyes focused on her, and he blinked slowly. She noticed he had the longest lashes she’d ever seen on a man. Elise had to get that on camera. “Miss, can I ask you a question?” he said, his voice low and smooth.

“Shoot.”

“Is this job for real?”

She tilted her head, studying him. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

He glanced down at her clothing. “You’re not dressed, your boss doesn’t know anything about me, and neither do those two guys. You barely looked at my résumé, and you haven’t asked me anything about my work experience. Just seems a bit strange to me.”

“I’m a strange girl,” she said lightly. “And listen, we run a survival school. Dane and Colt run the classes, Grant rides everyone’s asses, and I basically file paperwork and take pictures. They’re opening a paintball course, so we can put you in charge of that. I don’t see what the big deal is. You want to work here, right?”

“I do,” he said solemnly. “I need the job.”

“Well, we need another employee,” she told him.

He nodded, but the suspicious look was still on his face.

“Would you feel better if I put on some pants?”

“Marginally, yes.”

“All right then, I’ll have to find some. Come on. I’m sure I have some in my cabin.” She paused, then added, “I think.”

They headed toward the row of cabins and Brenna waved a hand at them. “One of these will be yours, as soon as we figure out sleeping arrangements.”

“The cabin I slept in last night. It’s not empty?”

“No, that’s mine.”

He looked surprised. “You don’t have much stuff.”

“I don’t, do I?” she said, feeling more cheerful by the minute. That was nice to hear from someone. Relieving. She constantly worried that she’d somehow turned a blind eye to her possessions and she’d wake up surrounded by piles of overwhelming junk.

“You a minimalist?”

“Something like that,” Brenna said. “Though only with my own stuff.” She had no problem borrowing from other people, because other people tended to want their stuff back. As long as it was going home with someone else? She didn’t much care. “But once we reshuffle the cabins, you’ll have one for yourself. Do you need to make relocation arrangements?”

His fathomless blue eyes fixed on her face. “I’m relocated.”

“I don’t see a box of stuff?”

“I’m relocated,” he repeated.

“Well then,” she said, pushing the door to her cabin open. “I guess I’m not the only one who packs light.”