And then his hand slid to the front of her and he began to play with her clit, even as he continued to thrust raggedly and wildly into her.
She came with a choked cry, her entire body tightening with the hard rush of need coursing through her. He bit back a curse and came as well, his strokes into her slowing down until he collapsed on the bed next to her. She could hear the snap of rubber as he took off the condom, and then he pulled her down next to him.
They lay there, panting for a moment. That had been a quick and dirty f**k, Brenna mused, but a good one. She was pleased.
“Well,” Grant breathed. “That was certainly meaningless, wasn’t it?”
She giggled. “Completely and utterly.”
His arm wrapped around her and he dragged her in for a hug, and she snuggled into his arms, her eyes closing in utter bliss and relaxation.
• • •
Well, at least now he knew how Brenna ticked, Grant mused as he held her against him while she slept. Her purple bangs tickled his chin, but he didn’t brush them away. She was sleeping soundly, her arms curled around him, and he’d be damned if he woke her up.
Her in his arms? Felt right. Their fun but slightly edgy sex? Felt right. The fact that Brenna had been wounded because he’d given her exactly what she’d asked for—just sex? Meant that she felt things for him. Probably the same torrent of emotions that he was feeling.
But instead of embracing them like he did, she preferred to pretend that they didn’t exist.
Which wasn’t ideal, but at least now he knew how to handle things. For starters, he wouldn’t go around declaring that they should get married. Instead, he’d simply let Brenna call all the shots. His thumb brushed over one of her tattoos, grazing the soft skin.
If she felt like she was in control of things, she wouldn’t get skittish. And if this thing between them continued to work out? They’d fall into a lifestyle so easily that Brenna wouldn’t realize that she’d fallen into a committed relationship until it was too late.
Grant grinned. It was committed all right. He was crazy about her, completely and utterly crazy. The part of him that he’d thought was dead and gone after Heather had died? Wasn’t dead at all. It was alive and kicking and full of piss and vinegar, especially when Brenna was around. Just being close to her made his heart race and made his protective feelings come to the forefront. He was in love with her. She was easy to love, with her happy smiles and carefree attitude.
But he couldn’t tell her that, of course. He’d just go on letting her believe that what they had was nothing but meaningless fun for him, too.
Whatever it took to keep her in his arms? He’d do it.
• • •
Elise waited in the living room of the main lodge that served as the headquarters of the survival school. To pass the time, she checked her camera gear for the millionth time. It was a familiar and soothing sort of ritual, and was great for occupying her hands—and her gaze—when she was in uncomfortable situations.
Not that this was an uncomfortable situation at the moment. There was no one in the lodge, so there was no need to be nervous, but she’d been left in here by herself long enough that she was starting to get anxious. Where had Brenna run off to? Her brother’s quirky girlfriend had mentioned something about finding her a test subject, and then had ran off, leaving her alone in the lodge.
She said she hadn’t minded, but leaving her alone for an hour? She was going to lose the best light if they didn’t get started soon. Elise frowned to herself and moved to one of the large windows, judging by the clouds in the sky. The best time to start shooting would be soon, if they didn’t—
“You lost, Little Bo Peep?”
Elise gasped and turned, her hair whirling around her face. Someone was here. She saw the large, tattooed man who they’d just hired and her entire body shrank a bit. He was gorgeous and intimidating and looked just a bit wild—which meant that she wasn’t able to look him in the eye. She was bad about that sort of thing. “B-b-bo Peep?”
He strode forward, and she was pretty sure he was smiling at her . . . or at least, she assumed that since she wouldn’t look at him. “Yeah,” he said. “You know. Little Bo Peep has lost her sheep and all that. Just kinda sprung to my head because you look all lost.”
Oh. She didn’t know what to say to that. Nothing clever sprang to mind. So she did what she did best—stared down at her shoes and wished the floor would swallow her up. Stunning conversation there, Elise, she told herself. Just blow him away with your wittiness, why don’t you.
But it was hard to be witty around beautiful men. As a photographer and an artist (at least, she liked to think of her photography as art), she had a healthy appreciation for beauty and form. The fact that this tattooed man was sinfully gorgeous and moved like a dancer? Only fed her fantasies. She tried to remember his name and drew a blank. Something exotic and strong and elegant, like him. She hadn’t thought to memorize it, though, because she’d figured she’d never need it.
Men like him didn’t talk to girls like her. Self-conscious, she let her hair swing in front of her face and straightened her shoulders again, careful to tilt the left one higher.
Silence fell in the lodge. Elise continued to stare at the floor, wishing that she could think of something to say to him that would be witty and clever, or outrageous and daring like Brenna. Heck, even something about the weather would be nice. But nothing came to mind at all, and so she began to pray for someone to return and distract him so she could admire him covertly from afar.
No rescue came.
“You’re scared of me. It’s obvious.” His voice was scathing.
“I—” Her voice died into a squeak as she looked up at him. She wasn’t scared of him. He was just way out of her league. He was stunningly beautiful, and he’d never look at a girl like her twice. “I’m not scared.”
“Then why won’t you look at me?”
Because you might see my scars. She forced herself to keep her gaze on his face, since he seemed offended by any less. And her heart fluttered when his hard mouth curved a bit on one side, hinting at a smile. It tugged at the piercing on his lip in the sexiest way.
“Not scared,” she blurted again.
“You shy then, Bo Peep?”
Shy was only the tip of the iceberg. But it was hard to describe exactly how she was feeling when her tongue was locked to the roof of her mouth. She averted her eyes again, only to have her gaze alight on those arms corded with dark tattoos. His entire look was one of roguishness and utter sexiness. Totally forbidden.