She laughed and poked him in the thigh.
He stopped Maggie in front of a fence and, after making sure Charli was still holding on, dismounted in one fluid motion. He tied the horse to the post, then helped her with her own awkward disembarkation. She landed with an unladylike thunk and almost toppled onto her butt. He grabbed her waist and held her steady. “Whoa, there.”
“Thanks,” she said, the near tumble and the look he was giving her enough to make her breathless. “Grace isn’t my forte.”
“Stop being so hard on yourself.” He pushed her hair away from her face, looking down at her with a serious expression. “And yes, I’m cynical. But it hurts me to hear you be that way. You’ve got too much passion and too much life to live to be so jaded already.”
“And you don’t?”
His thumb brushed her lips, and a shade of sadness crossed his features. “I’m living the life that works for me. I have everything I need.”
She looked back toward the main house, which was only a few squares of light from this distance. Of course he had everything he needed—a beautiful home and property, all the money he could want, and gorgeous women lining up to be with him. Most men would switch places with him in a second. But she sensed a deep loneliness behind his words.
She stepped closer and wound her arms around his waist, wishing she could peek inside her cowboy’s brain. “But what about what you want?”
His lips curved a bit as he stared down at her. “Right now what I want is rubbing her body up against me and making me forget what we were talking about.”
She laughed, loving that he could make her feel like a vixen with a few simple words. “I’m that distracting, huh?”
“You have no idea, freckles.” He grabbed her by the backs of her thighs and hoisted her up, hooking her legs around his hips. “I’ve imagined getting you in my dungeon more times than I’d care to admit. Have imagined all the fun things I could do with this sexy body of yours.”
She couldn’t help the yeah, right snort that escaped her. “Sexy body? There are twelve-year-olds who have more curves than me.”
His gaze turned lethal. “That just earned you a punishment, Charlotte. I’m getting real tired of you dismissing my compliments.”
She winced. “I’m sorry. It’s just…”
He set her down on her feet, cutting off her words, and grabbed her upper arm, the light mood from a moment before gone. “Let’s go.”
He led her away from Maggie and toward the wooden building looming against the dark skyline. “Where are you taking me?”
“My dungeon, Charlotte,” he said, his words clipped. “I’m going to make sure you never doubt what I say about you again.”
SIXTEEN
Charli’s heart played a riotous beat as Grant guided her none too gently toward the barn. His jaw was set in a way that warned her to keep her mouth shut. She’d pissed him off. Again. She didn’t know whether to run from him or throw herself at his mercy.
But for some reason, neither protest nor apology would form on her lips. She feared the unknown, of what lay behind those big barn doors, but she didn’t fear him. Somehow being dragged into a barn in the middle of freaking nowhere by a guy she barely knew felt right. Part of her wanted his wrath, wanted to see him yank off that stoic mask.
Yep, she was officially certifiable.
He pulled up short before they reached the large doors and turned to her. With rough hands, he yanked off her robe and then took a pocketknife from his belt.
“Stay still,” he said, his tone deadly calm. The blade grazed her skin as he slipped the knife under the waistband of her panties. She held her breath and squeezed her eyes shut, but instead of going cold with terror, her body heated, her sex dampening as the knife sliced through the cotton/silk. Good God, why would that turn her on?
He repeated the process on the other side, then tugged the panties off. He held the shredded material in his hand, no doubt feeling how wet they were. He cocked an eyebrow at her, but didn’t comment on it. “Lose the shoes. You walk in with nothing.”
“Yes, sir.” She slipped out of her shoes and wrapped her arms around herself, not sure if she was shivering from the night air or the way Grant was eyeing her.
Finally, he reached in his pocket and pulled out a key to unlock the barn. The massive door swung open with a loud creak, piercing the silence around them. Was this really where his dungeon was? Was he going to make her lie in hay? Her skin itched at the thought.
But when they stepped in and he flipped on the lights, she realized hay was the last thing she needed to worry about. The space had been totally converted. Thick beams supported the impossibly high wood-planked ceiling, and large skylights let the moonlight in. There was also an open second level, presumably what used to be the storage portion of the barn, flanking both sides.
But what dominated her line of sight was the massive bed in the center of the room and the iron ring hanging over it. To a casual observer, the ring would look like a light fixture, some sort of medieval chandelier to hold candles. But as Charli’s eyes trailed up the chain that went all the way to the apex of the pitched ceiling, she knew it had nothing to do with lighting.
Other equipment and cabinets filled different areas, but as his gaze traveled over the room, she found herself overwhelmed. It was like landing on another planet where she didn’t quite speak the language. She wet her lips and looked to Grant, shutting everything else out.
He crossed his arms, his anger still simmering right below the surface. “Get onto the bed on your knees and face the right wall.”