Everything stops. Meaning, if she said that word, he’d have proven she really couldn’t handle him. Fat chance. Losing wasn’t her style.
“Do you understand?”
“Yes…sir.”
“Take off your clothes.”
“What? Like here?” She knew the words sounded stupid even as she said them, but she couldn’t help it.
He stalked forward, backing her into the counter. “Make me request something twice and I’ll be sure and show you the punishment part of this dynamic. A favorite of mine.”
The edge of the granite pushed into the small of her back. Her instinct was to rail against him. To tell him to fuck off. But her body wasn’t on board with that plan, and she had agreed to try. So try she would. “Sorry.”
She’d never stripped down for a guy in broad daylight like this. The blinds were open and anyone walking by would easily see inside. But bringing that up to Grant probably wasn’t going to go over so well. With awkward fingers, she fumbled with the buttons on her shirt and peeled it off, revealing her plain cotton bra underneath. One that had gone an odd shade of gray when she’d accidentally washed it with the color load. Fabulous. Nothing said sexy like old Hanes.
She let the shirt fall to the floor, and Grant took a small step back, giving her room to continue. His hawk-like gaze watched her every move, every flinch. She took a steadying breath, toed off her sandals, and went to the button of her khakis. She closed her eyes and tugged them down, knowing that the comfy panties beneath were older and in worse shape than her bra. She stepped out of the puddle of clothing and stared down at her toes. Now she remembered why she always had sex in the dark.
“All of it,” Grant said, his voice quiet but firm.
She glanced up at him, finding his expression maddeningly unreadable. “Grant, I feel—”
Awkward, embarrassed, freaking exposed.
“I didn’t ask how you feel. This is about what I want. Not you. And right now, I want to see all of you. Go back to your cabin or get naked.”
She gritted her teeth. So this was how it was going to be. Fine. Her brothers had learned a long time ago to never call her bluff. She never backed down from a dare. So if Grant thought he could scare her off of this by being an asshole, he had another thing coming.
“I’m waiting, freckles.”
Here goes nothing.
She reached behind her, unhooked her bra, revealing her barely B-cup breasts, and then tugged her panties down and off. The warm air in the cabin suddenly felt ten times cooler against her bared skin. She shifted her weight, all too aware of the telltale moisture between her thighs. Damn. She almost didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that simply seeing him walking in from the fields all glistening and dirty had gotten her body revving.
She stared at his boots, not wanting to see his reaction. Fearing she’d find disappointment there. Knowing that would make her call her safe word before anything else would.r: Roni Loren
She grinned and hopped off the fence when she saw him, a new light in her eyes. “Well, look at that. The cowboy actually does farm work?”
The shift to a lighthearted version of Charli surprised him. Huh, maybe they were actually going to be able to move on from the mess of the last few days. He closed the distance between them and tossed the rag back over his shoulder. “Have the calluses to prove it. How ’bout you? Aren’t you supposed to be at your job, Ms. Beaumonde?”
She raised her palm to block her eyes from the glare and looked up at him. “Research day.”
He reached up, took off his hat, and sat it on her head. “You need to get yourself a hat or some sunscreen. You’re already starting to burn.”
The hat tilted off-kilter, too big for her head. She tucked her hands in her pockets with a shrug. “Irish skin, what are you going to do?”
He could think of a number of things to do with it. Like lick it or bite it or turn it bright pink without any help from the sun. He pushed the images out of his head. Focus, man. “So, what are you doing here?”
“I need a favor.”
Oh, Lord. “And I need a drink. Inside.”
He walked past her and she followed him into the house, finding her way to one of his kitchen stools. He grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge, set one out for her, and then went about downing his in one long gulp.
He could feel her stare on him.
“You look like one of those Coke commercials with the sweaty construction worker,” she mused. “Though he had his shirt off. That’d be better.”
He tossed the empty bottle into the recycle bin and sent her a wary look. “Be careful, freckles. That sounds dangerously close to flirting.”