The Girl's Guide to (Man)Hunting (23 page)

She was being the user in this relationship.

“That’s very nice of you, Pete, but I’m a big girl. I can handle myself.”

“It’s not right,” Pete said, a hint of peevishness in his voice now. “He shouldn’t be sleeping with clients. I’ve half a mind to go and tell his partners what he’s been up to.”

Alarm shot through her body. He couldn’t do that. If anyone was going to ruin Dane’s career, it was going to be her, dammit. And just the thought of Pete messing things up made her nerves fray. “Pete, please,” she said softly. “I would prefer if no one knows but us.”

He looked unconvinced.

“For my sake?” she said, turning on the charm and moving forward to touch his arm. She swung her hair a little, mentally wishing she could punch him in the face for even suggesting such a thing.

He looked at her and licked his lips, then sighed. “I won’t say anything, Miranda. I just…I wish you were interested in me, not him.”

She smiled and leaned forward, impulsively kissing him on the cheek. “I wish I was, too.”

He turned his head into her kiss.

She recoiled. So much for her goodwill toward him. She pulled away and smiled tightly. “You should go back.”

He had the grace to look embarrassed. “I’m going.”

With arms crossed, she watched him leave her campsite, still carrying his fish. She wouldn’t miss him when this week was over. The only one she’d miss was Dane.

The thought made her breath whoosh out of her lungs.

Miss
Dane?

Ridiculous. She was here to destroy the man.

Really?
Good Miranda said inside her mind.
Because you seem more interested in sleeping with him than actually getting revenge.

Damn. She hated Good Miranda. Especially when that sounded closer to the truth than she liked. Confused by her own feelings, she moved toward the fire and tossed another log on.

Did she like Dane? Really? Or did she only like playing with him? Where had her hate gone? She had been brimming with it earlier this week, and yet now she couldn’t seem to muster it.

There was no question that the two of them were compatible together—every time he touched her, her entire body exploded into feeling, every nerve ending singing with delight. No question that he knew how to touch her and what she wanted in bed. But relationships weren’t built on that, and she didn’t want a relationship with the man. She wanted to make his ass sorry for what he’d done to her nine years ago, and then shake the dust of this small, annoying town off her boots. She wanted to leave the Boobs of Bluebonnet behind. She wanted a life that didn’t involve Dane Croft.

Didn’t she?

And yet…she stared down at the camp around her. She’d worked hard this afternoon to make her camp perfect. Her fire was roaring, her shelter done, and he’d find no fault with it. She’d tried extra hard this week so he wouldn’t think of her as
lazy. She’d never complained, even when she was dripping with sweat. She wanted him to like her, too.

Not like,
she corrected with a wince.
Respect, not like!
If he respected her, the revenge would ache all the more.

A warm arm wrapped around her from behind, and a hot mouth pressed a kiss to the side of her neck.

She yelped in fright.

“You’re lost in thought,” Dane said between nibbles.

A shiver of delight charged through her body at the affectionate touch, and she had to stop herself from leaning in to his embrace. “Just thinking of this week,” she said lamely. “Sorry I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Here I thought you were thinking up new ways to ambush me again,” he said, his eyes gleaming with the firelight. “But obviously not, since I scared you.”

“I thought you were Pete,” she admitted.

He stiffened against her and turned her to face him. Gone was the playful expression, replaced with a possessive, angry glare. “Miranda, has he been harassing you again? Say the word and I’ll go over there and wring his little pencil neck—”

“What? No, I’m fine.”

He growled low in his throat, his hand clenching possessively in her hair. “I’ve seen the way he’s been looking at you. Say the word and I’ll make him regret it.”

Funny, Pete had been at her campsite a short while ago saying the same thing about Dane. She gave him a weak smile. “It’s fine. I can handle myself.”

She tried to ignore the thrill that his jealous protectiveness shot through her. She didn’t care, remember? Didn’t care. This
was all part of the master plan. “Besides, you can’t go beat him up. He’s a client.”

“I don’t care,” Dane gritted. “You need me to beat him up, and I will.”

That was…sweet. She smiled and turned her face up to his for a short, hot kiss. “I’m fine,” she repeated. “So, are you here to check out my stuff?”

His hand slipped to her ass, cupping it and drawing her body against his. “Exactly what stuff did you have in mind?”

Her arms twined around his neck and she gave him a flirty smile. “My fire, of course. I worked hard to give it just the right spark.”

“Looks like it’s burning hard to me,” he murmured, not glancing away from her face. “Shall I check?”

“What?” she said, turning in his arms and giving him a playful look. “You’re not going to pass me simply because we’re sleeping together?”

He grinned. “Nope. Your campsite needs to make the grade. And that means you need to show me your stuff.” He slapped her ass. “Hot stuff.”

A girlish giggle escaped her throat and Miranda sidled away.

Now that she’d slipped out of his arms, he moved forward to her shelter, inspecting the frame of it. “Not bad, not bad.”

“There are boughs on the bottom of the shelter to make it more comfortable,” she blurted. “And I packed the earth around the bottom so there’s no breeze going through the cracks.” For some reason, she was anxious to please him—to show him that she’d been paying attention this week. That she wasn’t like Pete. That she was someone he could respect.

“Very nice,” he said.

“I have a nice fire going, too,” she added. “No fish, though. A few nuts and some dandelions for greens.” She gestured at the food that she’d set aside on a hastily made plate of a few long strips of bark that she’d washed clean. “Hungry?”

“Starving,” he said, grinning, and his hands moved to her waist again, pulling her close.

“For some reason, I’m thinking we’re both not talking about food,” she said softly, her gaze going to the curve of his mouth, the scars that gave him that rakish look.

As if sensing her thoughts, he tugged her against him and pulled her in for a kiss, his tongue stroking deep between her parted lips. It made her think of sex, and she gasped at the pulsing response of her body. His tongue thrust into her mouth again and then stroked against her own tongue, the feather-light touches tickling and making her quiver with desire. No one kissed quite like Dane, as if he had all the time in the world to do nothing but kiss her and his entire goal was to devour her body. That was one of the things she liked the most about him—his devoted attention to her pleasure, and how he took charge, making sure that she would get her orgasm before he got his. She’d let other boyfriends take the lead in bed before, but they’d hesitated, asking what she wanted. She didn’t know what she wanted most of the time, but Dane seemed to instinctively know, and he used that to play her body like a violin.

And she liked it. A lot.

His tongue stroked into her mouth again, and she brushed hers against it, returning his caress with one of her own. She could feel each stroke, and each one reminded her of his mouth
on her pussy, his cock thrusting deep inside her, and she grew wetter and wetter with each thrust of his tongue, until her hips were squirming against his own. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she lifted one knee. He grasped it and pulled it tight against him, pulling the cradle of her hips against the thick ridge of his erection. Just the feel of it against her sex made her moan with desire. She needed it inside her. Deep, hard, plunging…

With one last teasing lick, Dane broke the kiss and gazed down at her, brushing a strand of hair away from her cheek with his free hand as she clung to him. “Miranda.”

“Yes?” Her voice was breathless, soft.

“Show me your knot work.”

She blinked for a moment. “My what?”

“Your knot work,” he said in a husky voice, as if it were the sexiest thing imaginable. “I need to check your traplines and your knots to make sure you’ve passed that portion of the course.”

Miranda frowned up at him. Who cared about knots at a time like this?

But he only gave her ass a friendly pat and released her leg, leaving her throbbing and wanting, her pulse pounding through her veins.

Confused and utterly turned on all at once, she stood there for a moment, watching him. When he didn’t move, she gave him a bewildered look and gestured at her pack. “I have my rope over there.”

“Good,” he said. “Show me a square knot.”

The man was odd. Couldn’t they do this later if he did want her? Grumbling mentally to herself, she moved to her pack at the base of a nearby tree and pulled her assigned length of rope out.
Though Dane had showed them all how to create a rope from dried reeds and grasses, it was a task that would require more time than they had left in the training and they’d been parceled out a length of rope instead. There hadn’t been time to practice her trap-making.

He moved to stand over her, looming and blocking out the rest of her fading light just as she began to tie the ropes in the knots that he’d shown them this week. His attention made her flustered, and she dropped one end of the rope, her knot falling to pieces.

“Tsk,” Dane said in an oddly pleased voice above her. “Looks like someone needs a lesson on ropes after all. Stand up.”

“I can do it if you’re not looming over me,” she grumbled, but stood and handed him the rope.

He quickly began to make a complex series of knots, the rope forming a loop on one side. Then he extended a hand to her and waited.

Miranda frowned down at that outstretched hand. “I don’t have anything else.”

Dane’s look was utterly serious. “Give me your hand.”

A small, naughty thrill shot through her, and she stared at him. Then, ever so slowly, she put her hand in his.

He grinned and kissed her mouth once—quickly, hard. Then he took her hand, slid it through the loop he’d created, and raised it over her head. The rope slithered over a branch just above her head and came down on the other side, and Dane extended his hand to her again.

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

Alarm bells shot through her body, and she immediately
thought of the camera in the closet, long ago. The pictures of her breasts. “I…”

He leaned in and kissed her forehead, an oddly tender gesture. It was a small caress, but a reassuring one. “If you don’t want to, it’s all right.”

She thought quickly. Odds were that there weren’t cameras in the woods. Even though Dane had picked out this campsite for her, she hadn’t seen any evidence of equipment when she’d foraged and gathered nearby. And if she didn’t trust him, their little games would come to a screeching halt.

And for some reason, she didn’t want that. Not at all.

“I trust you,” she said softly, a slight waver in her voice. She hoped she didn’t regret that trust soon. Dane didn’t know her plans. There was no way this could be a setup. “But if there’s another emu lurking around here and I can’t run away, I’m going to kick your ass.”

“No emu. I promise.” He pressed a kiss to her nose and then quickly fashioned a knotted loop in the rope to hold it in place, hiking her other arm above her head.

Now she stood, both arms pinned taut above her head, the rope looped over a high branch. She gave each arm a tug and realized that the ropes were knotted tighter than she’d imagined. She couldn’t slide free. Miranda shivered, alarm and excitement pounding through her.

Dane grinned at the sight of her, his hands running slowly up and down her sides, stroking her body. “Someone should have learned her knots,” he said in a husky voice.

“Someone didn’t have the chance to show what she knew,” she retorted, twisting one arm in protest. “You’re cheating.”

“I am,” he agreed, his fingers sliding to the waistband of her shorts and tugging her shirt free. “I admit that I’ve been thinking about this all week.”

A shiver crossed her skin as he slowly hiked her shirt up, past her breasts. The material bunched under her arms and he tugged it over her head, until it lay trapped behind her head. Her body was exposed, her bra stark against her skin.

His gaze was rapt as he stared down at her, eyes hot with need. Dane brushed the back of his hand over one lacy cup and her breath sucked in. “So lovely,” he murmured. “Delicate and rosy. The only thing prettier than these breasts are your nipples,” he said, and brushed the backs of his fingers against those very spots.

She gasped at the jolt of sensation that rocketed through her. Her hands clenched against the ropes. Her body was exposed, helpless to do anything against his touch. Not that she wanted to escape.

Dane’s eyes gleamed and he pulled a length of fabric out of his pocket. “Let’s raise the stakes a little, shall we?”

And then he blindfolded her. The bandana cut off her vision, and her tremors of excitement were mixed with apprehension. She couldn’t see where he was.

His hand brushed along her arm and felt her quivers, and then his mouth brushed against hers. “I’m here, Miranda. Anytime you want to call this off, just tell me to stop and I’ll take you down. All right? Let me know if it gets too intense for you.”

She gave a jerky nod.

“That’s my girl,” he said in a pleased voice, and rewarded her with a kiss along her jaw. She hadn’t expected his mouth there and trembled at the feeling. With her vision blocked and her
hands unable to touch him, her senses were narrowed down to passively feeling, to smelling, to hearing. His lips were soft against her neck, and she felt the flick of his tongue against her pulse, the strum of it matching the spike of pleasure that shot to her pussy. The stubble of his beard rasping against her skin was an oddly pleasurable sensation, and she barely felt his fingertips gliding along her side in light, ticklish motions as he explored her body.