He shook his head. “Yeah, I’m not touching that one.”
With the grace of a man who’d done it a thousand times before, Grant put his boot in the stirrup and swung his leg over, filling the space behind Charli. The heat of his chest seared through the thin silk of her robe, making every inch of her reignite with awareness. He reached around her and grabbed the reins, cocooning her with his scent. He nuzzled her ear, his voice low. “Hold on, freckles.”
She grabbed onto the saddle horn, and Grant made a soft clicking sound to get Maggie moving. Charli gripped hard as the horse made its way down the slant in the path. “Whoa.”
“Relax, darlin’. I’m not going to let you fall.” His thighs pressed against the outside of hers, reminding her that he had her on all sides.
“Maybe I should mention I’ve never been on a horse.”
He led Maggie away from the main building and toward the back of the property. Cabins dotted the area to the left, but Grant stayed off the walking paths and instead weaved along the fences protecting the vineyards. The rows of grapevines seemed to stretch out forever under the moonlight. “How is it Ms. Rough-and-Tumble has never been horseback riding?”
She adjusted her grip on the saddle horn, her fingers starting to hurt from grabbing it so hard. “I grew up in the suburbs. Riding four-wheelers was about as country as I got.”
“I bet you were damn cute trying to keep up with those brothers of yours.”
She sniffed. “Cute would probably not be the most accurate description. And I didn’t get to do those things with my brothers. My dad was of the lock-daughter-up-until-she’s-twenty mentality. I’d have to sneak out and play with the neighborhood boys and tell Dad I was playing with Barbies.”
“What about your mom?”
What about her? was the first retort that jumped to her lips, but she bit it back, taking a long breath and staring out at the dark night in front of them. The last thing she wanted to do was talk about her mother, but she’d asked Grant some prying questions earlier, and it was only fair that she give him a little honesty, too. “My mom moved to Los Angeles when I was nine to help my older sister pursue her acting career. I wanted to go with them and be on TV, too, but mom told me the talent agent said I didn’t have the right look.”
The muscles in Grant’s forearms twitched as he gripped the reins tighter, but he stayed silent.
She cleared her throat, trying to move past the lump that always lodged there when she thought about the day her mom walked out. “It was supposed to be temporary—my mom living out her own failed dream through my sister. But my sister landed a part in a kid’s show, and my mother landed a spot in the director’s bed. They came home the next Thanksgiving, and Mom told Dad she was leaving him. Us. Neither she nor my sister ever came home again. It was like we didn’t even exist for her anymore.”
“Wow. That had to be tough for a little girl to understand,” he said, sympathy in his voice.
“I survived. I’d spent my whole life trying to please her and live up to expectations I could never seem to reach. So in some ways, it was easier after she left. My dad was never the same though. She broke his heart, and that broke him. He did a good job raising us, but the light in him went out the day he found out she was leaving for good. He was never the same.” She paused, tears threatening. Nothing could make her lose it quicker than thinking about her daddy. But she pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth, an old method she’d learned to keep tears at bay.
“How is he now?”
“He died of cancer my junior year of high school. From diagnosis to gone in only six months.” Tears did slip out this time. She brushed them away with the back of her hand. “She didn’t even come home to see him. Me and my brothers took care of him, watched him fade. Part of me thinks he would’ve been able to fight it if he hadn’t been so lost without her.”
Grant kissed her shoulder. “I’m sorry, darlin’. I didn’t mean to bring up something that would upset you.”
She took a few seconds, waiting for the burning sensation of more impending tears to abate, then rolled her neck, trying to shake off the bad memories. “It’s okay. It just makes me angry that he wasted the rest of his life loving someone who wasn’t going to love him back. He was a great man. He could’ve found someone else and had another chance at being happy.”
Grant turned quiet for a moment, and the only sound was hooves hitting the packed dirt. She thought he’d ended the discussion, but finally he said, “Sounds like she was the love of his life. Sometimes there’s no coming back from that.”
She scoffed. “That’s bullshit. Something doesn’t work out, so you roll over and wait to die? Screw that.”
“You think moving on is that easy?” Grant shifted in the saddle, and Maggie whinnied as if sensing the discussion had gone off course. “Have you ever been in love, Charli?”r: Roni Loren
She shivered, but to her credit, kept her posture proud.
He put a hand to her shoulder to ground her and guided her to a resting kneel. “If at any time something goes numb, becomes painful, or makes you feel panicked, use your words. Yellow means I’ll back off and check in with you. Say Texas and I’m cutting the ropes off and kicking everyone out. There’s no shame in using either.”
She released a shaky breath. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”
He kissed the spot on her shoulder where his hand had been, then straightened and stepped to the side to face the audience. He started off talking about the lengths of ropes, why hemp was usually preferred, how to soften the rope by boiling it. It was all relatively dry stuff, but having Charli naked and kneeling in his peripheral vision had his skin prickling with awareness. She looked so damn tempting, her color easing slowly from the pink flush of embarrassment back to her natural freckled alabaster. She was sinking into the zone he needed her in. Focused. Ready for whatever he needed from her. Submissive.
He ran the length of rope along his palm as he answered a few questions from the audience. What he wouldn’t give to grab Charli and take her somewhere private. Though he liked a little exhibitionism and sharing every now and then, he preferred his D/s behind closed doors, enjoyed the sacred space it created between the dominant and submissive. And with Charli he was suddenly craving that more than ever.
He glanced over at his pretty sub. She’d lowered her head, shielding her face with that silky red curtain of hair. A wave of possessiveness went over him, and he found himself resenting the audience for being present. He wanted to tie her up for his eyes only. He wanted to run the rope along her soft skin, sensitize her, have her quivering and bound and begging for release. His cock pushed against his zipper as the images flitted through his head.
But he wouldn’t give these strangers that gift. That would be his.
Deciding to cut the presentation as short as possible, he headed over to Charli and began to demonstrate a few of the basic tying techniques, binding her wrists and ankles in a few easy-for-beginners options. Then he tied her arms behind her with a series of double-coin knots, making a line down from her shoulders all the way to her wrists.