The Expert's Guide to Driving a Man Wild (A Bluebonnet Novel) Read online

  And ever since Brenna had climbed into his bed? He hadn’t thought about Heather once, not until he sat down at his desk, still fuming from his fight with Brenna, and opened his drawer to find the hidden picture of his dead ex-wife staring up at him.

  It was weird. Normally he thought about Heather daily, the ache of her loss still ripping through him, the guilt a constant companion. But Brenna had him so distracted with her actions that he hadn’t had time to dwell on the past. Instead, he was anticipating her next move, trying to figure out ways to get a step ahead of her. Trying to figure out how to make her want to be with him as much as he wanted to be with her.

  Grant took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, a headache starting when Brenna’s humming paused and then went up a too-screechy note. “You can’t sing worth a damn, Brenna.”

  “I’m also a lousy dancer,” she said in a cheerful voice, typing away on her computer. “Your point?”

  “You’re making my head hurt.”

  “Oh.” She paused for a minute, and then began to hum louder.

  Instead of pissing him off, though, he had to bite back a smile. He should have guessed that she’d do that. She constantly sought to get under his skin. And somewhere along the way, he’d grown addicted to their constant needling of each other. When had he started to look forward to her challenges?

  Probably the day that she’d grabbed him at the airport and planted a kiss on his mouth. That was when all the challenges and small harassing moves became less like aggravation and more like—as Elise had commented—foreplay.

  But he was still pissed at her. Still pissed that she’d jaunted off into the woods with dangerous-looking Rome and thought nothing of it. Pissed that she’d hired the guy for his looks. What if she decided she wanted casual sex with him, too? Where would that leave Grant? He fought the swell of rage in his chest, his mouth tightening as he stared at a monthly budget spreadsheet.

  The lodge was too quiet. Too goddamn quiet, too still, and he was simmering with way too much emotion at the moment. Colt had taken Grant’s parents, Elise, and Rome out on a tour of the grounds, since he could do a much better job of it than Grant could. Grant had cited pressing work, but the truth was, he’d simply wanted to be where Brenna was, so he could wait for her explanation. Ideally, her apology.

  But it seemed like he’d be waiting a long, long time.

  The humming stopped. She looked over at him. “Are you going to keep doing that?”

  Grant finally looked over at Brenna’s desk. It was covered in wadded paper, stacks of folders hanging messily off one corner. Her monitor was shoved off to one side, and a mug—his favorite, mind you—hung half-off the edge of the desk, a lipstick ring on the lip. Her feet were planted on the desk and she had the keyboard in her lap, typing. She wore no shoes, her bare feet wiggling, and he caught a glimpse of bright blue toenail polish. Her jeans were tight and showcased her sexy legs, her shirt ill-fitting and probably borrowed from someone. Her messy, dark curls were pulled into an equally messy ponytail, her purple fringe of bangs flirting with her brow. And her full mouth was frowning over at him.

  Damn, she was sexy as hell. He was getting aroused just looking at her. “Am I going to keep doing what?”

  “Sighing.” Annoyance flashed in her eyes.

  “I’m not sighing.”

  In response, she gave a big, gusty sigh, mimicking him. And then sighed again a moment later, just to drive the knife in a bit further. “Look, if you’re going to be a sad panda all day, I’ll just leave.”

  “Where are you going to go?” he couldn’t help but ask. “You gave up your cabin, remember?”

  “Are we still fighting about that?”

  “We might be. I’m still mad at you.”

  “Well, I’m getting mad at you, too, because you’re being annoying. I like you much better when your mouth is occupied.”

  The sexual comment made his dick immediately hard as a rock. “I could tell,” Grant murmured, his voice going low and husky. It took everything he had to continue to sit casually at his desk, hands flat on the surface. “You kept screaming my name and getting wetter every time you came.”

  Her eyes grew soft, and he watched her suck in a breath, as if remembering last night. Her nipples grew visible through her T-shirt, and he wanted to drag her across his desk and lay her out so he could play with them.

  “I’m tired of fighting,” she declared. “Can we kiss and make up, already?”

  “I’m fine with that,” he said hoarsely, and every nerve in his body jumped when she got up from her desk and crossed the room toward him, that purple fringe of bangs framing a pair of very interested eyes. Grant didn’t get up, and when she came to his side of the desk, she slid a leg over his and then hopped onto his desk, straddling him.

  Then she leaned in, and he met her halfway to kiss her.

  Her tongue was sweet and soft as she brushed it against his, her lips tasting faintly of cherry lipgloss. And she made a small noise of pleasure when their tongues caressed, which got him even harder. He put everything he had into the kiss, his hand going to the back of her neck and pulling her closer. She moaned softly, apparently enjoying his hand at her nape, tangled in her ponytail. And he stroked deep into her mouth, his other hand moving to brush across her small breast as she leaned in, her hands supported on the arms of his chair.

  She pulled away moments later, breathless and sexy as hell. “We all better now?” she murmured.

  “You’re forgiven,” he breathed against her cherry lips.

  She grinned. “I wasn’t apologizing, just distracting.” And before he could protest, she slicked her tongue over his lips again, and he didn’t care who was apologizing to who any longer.

  He just wanted to keep kissing Brenna.

  “Let’s play a game,” she breathed against his mouth, and gave his chair a little push backward.

  “Oh?” If he got any harder, he was going to bust some seams in his pants. But he couldn’t stop staring up at her, at her gorgeous, sensual face, that wicked look in her eyes.

  “Let’s play Make Grant Yell Brenna’s Name,” she said with an evil grin on her face, and slid down under his desk.

  His eyes widened, his hands clenching on the armrests she’d just released. This was the worst possible timing to do something like this, he told himself as he watched her purple and brown head disappear under his desk. He wanted this, more than anything, but Colt and his family would be back at any minute, and they couldn’t—

  Grant’s train of thoughts died when he felt her hands on his zipper, her elbows digging into his thighs. “Brenna,” he groaned.

  “You can’t start yet,” she teased. “You have to wait for me to get my mouth on you before you start screaming my name.”

  And her hands undid his zipper, then opened the clasp of his belt. He heard the jangle and whisk of his belt as she pulled it aside, and then he felt warm hands tugging down his boxers, until the hard ache of his cock was released. Her hands immediately went around it, and she made a small noise of approval, as if pleased that he was already so hard for her.

  A hot, wet mouth closed over the head of his cock. Grant groaned and tilted his head back, his eyes closed. All thoughts of stopping Brenna had gone out the window as soon as she’d put her lips on him. Her tongue flicked and rubbed against the slit of his cockhead, and pleasure rippled through him. He wanted to tangle a hand into her hair again, and drive her face down on his cock until she was moaning with pleasure, too. Would she let him fuck her face? He groaned again when her tongue swirled around the head of his dick in a circular, teasing motion.

  The front door of the main lodge opened.

  Grant stiffened, his eyes flying open. His hands clenched on the arms of his chair as Dane came into view. Brenna had to get out from under his desk now, and they’d have to explain—

  Except she didn’t se
em to be stopping. She’d gone silent at the sound of the front door opening, but her mouth was still on his cock, and she was expertly licking the underside, rubbing it with her tongue. She clearly had no plans of stopping.

  “Hey, man,” Dane said, letting the front door slam shut behind him. He went to his desk across the room and flopped down, looking weary. “You would not believe how many types of wedding cakes there are out there.”

  Fuck, Brenna’s tongue was rubbing hard against the crown of his cock, and her fist was squeezed around the base. Grant’s eyes threatened to glaze over, but he forced himself to concentrate, act as if nothing was going on. Dane couldn’t see Brenna because the lodge desks were massive and made entirely of oak. The cube of space left for someone to stretch their legs was enclosed on the other side, so no one would see Brenna kneeling before him and servicing him.

  And damn if she wasn’t servicing the hell out of him.

  He made a small noise in his throat, and then cleared it when Dane gave him an odd look. “There are a lot of cakes,” Grant said in a strangled voice. “Did Miranda find one she liked?”

  Ah, God, now Brenna was pumping him with her fist and taking him deeper into her mouth. The suction around his cock increased.

  “You okay, bro? You look like you’re sweating.” Dane raised an eyebrow, then leaned back in his chair. “You’re not coming down with something, are you? Next week’s going to be busy and we’re going to need all hands on deck.”

  “No, I’m fine.” He forced himself to reach up and wipe a hand across his brow. “Just didn’t sleep well is all.”

  “Uh-huh. Sounds like you got something in your throat.”

  And with that, Brenna took him deep, and he felt the head of his cock butt against the back of her throat. His legs clenched, and it took everything he had not to buck into her mouth.

  “Uh . . . yeah.” Christ, what was he talking about? He had no idea. All he could think of was Brenna sucking on him while Dane sat there and tried to have a conversation with him. Was she wet? Did this turn her on? Were her little nipples poking through her T-shirt, still? God, he wanted to see her, watch her head going up and down on his cock. Just the thought of that made him shift involuntarily.

  Dane gave him another weird look. “Anyway. It’s good that I caught you. Colt and I wanted to talk to you about the new guy. That was fast.”

  “Brenna moves fast,” he wheezed out as she took him deep again. God, did she move fast. “I have no complaints.”

  He nodded. “Seems like a nice enough guy. I don’t know if he has the experience we’re looking for, but he looks athletic enough to keep up, and that’s all that really matters. Colt and I can teach him the rest.”

  “Good.” Fuck, he should have said more, but his mind was a blank. It was like she was sucking away his thoughts as she deep throated him.

  Light fingers tickled his balls, and then Grant had to clench the arms of the chair all over again as she began to roll his testicles in one hand, still working him with her mouth.

  “I wanted to talk to you about Brenna, too—”

  “Now is not the time,” Grant barked out. Ah, fuck, she was going to make him come if she kept that up, but her fingers were driving him wild.

  Dane put both of his hands up. “Whoa. I was just asking. Didn’t realize it was so sensitive.”

  Sensitive was not the word to use right now. More like delicious torture. He couldn’t think past Brenna’s mouth, and how badly he wanted to push deeper into it. Her motions picked up a rhythm, and she wrapped both hands around the base of his cock, pumping again as she began to work him. He leaned forward on his desk, and he felt beads of sweat break out on his forehead with the strain of keeping his cool. God, he was going to come . . .

  Dane was still talking, and Grant had to force himself to concentrate on what his friend was saying. “. . . should probably take Rome out for a beer. Get to hang with the guys and get to know us if he’s going to be working with us.”

  “Sounds good,” Grant gritted between clenched teeth. Fuck. He could feel his need rising in his cock, felt his balls getting tight. He was about to burst.

  “Cool.” Dane sat there for a moment longer, just giving him an odd look, as if trying to figure out exactly what was wrong with Grant. When he couldn’t, he pulled out his phone and began to text. “I think I’ll see if Miranda needs me to bring her lunch or something.”

  Dane disappeared out of the lodge.

  Grant’s hands clenched into fists, trying to control himself while Brenna worked his cock. And when that didn’t work, he reached under the desk, fisted his hands into her hair, and began to thrust into her mouth, desperate with need. Her soft murmur of surprise made him so fucking horny he could hardly stand it, and he began to pound into her wet mouth, slicking between her lips, pushing into her. Harsh, panting breaths escaped him, and he was nearly insensible with need.

  And then she tightened the suction.

  He came, biting out a curse even as he drove into her mouth, his entire body wracked with release. The ferocity of his orgasm made his legs cramp and his toes curl, and hot cum shot into her mouth. He felt her pull back a little, felt her throat working as she tried to swallow, and goddamn if that didn’t feel incredible, too. But he pulled out, collapsing backward in his chair, and tried to catch his breath. “Fuck me.”

  Brenna pushed forward a little, shoving his chair backward and emerging out from under the desk. She delicately ran a finger along her lips, as if determined to catch every drop. “We might have to,” she said in a light voice. “You never called out my name.”

  “That means you lost,” he told her, panting, and hastily shoved his cock back into his boxers and pants before anyone came in and saw him with his dick hanging out.

  “Mmm.” She ran a hand down the front of her shirt and then caressed her breasts. Her nipples were hard and erect. “I did lose. And now I’m really, really turned on.” Her voice had gone breathless. “I don’t suppose you want to—”

  “Yes, I do.” Grant grabbed her hand and they raced to his cabin.

  • • •

  If anyone wondered where he was that afternoon, they didn’t say. Grant emerged from his cabin several hours later, freshly showered, completely spent, and in a fantastic mood. Brenna was curled up in his sheets, sleeping. He felt a bit guilty for abandoning his visiting parents, but he could cite a work emergency. Or something. He suspected they’d just be happy that he was dating again.

  Or so they thought.

  He found Dane and Colt sitting in the main lodge with Rome. Pizzas had been ordered and the smell of hot pepperoni and cheese filled the air. Dane sat on one of the couches, beer and pizza in hand, while Rome and Colt played one of the shooting games that Colt loved. A case of Dane’s favorite Canadian import sat on the floor nearby.

  Grant headed over to the couches and sat down across from Dane, grabbing a beer and popping the lid off. “I thought we were going out for beers.”

  “We were,” Dane said around a mouthful of pizza.

  “But someone went into hiding and left us with his parents. I had to drive them back to the Peppermint House and they decided not to wait on you for dinner. So we did the same. Hope you like pizza, cause you bought it.”

  He reached for a slice, his mood mellow. “Pizza’s fine.” He dropped a piece onto a paper plate and then took a swig of the beer, grimacing at the strong taste. Dane loved Canadian beer—a leftover from his NHL days, Grant supposed. Shit would put hair on your chest.

  “So,” Dane said slowly. “You seen Brenna?”

  Two sets of eyes were suddenly focused on him, though Rome kept playing the video game.

  Grant took another gulp of beer, thinking about what to say. He went with the truth. “She’s up sleeping in my bed.”

  Colt raised a hand for a high five.

  He hit him back, then t
ook a bite of pizza. “It’s not like that,” he said after a moment. “We’re just having casual sex.”

  “Hell yeah,” Dane said, and then he leaned forward for a high five as well. “That’s my man.”

  Grant scowled at Dane, but smacked his hand anyhow.

  “You don’t strike me as the casual-sex type,” Colt observed.

  “That’s because I’m not.” Grant shook his head, still unable to wrap his brain around the concept. “Brenna insists. She doesn’t want to be in a relationship. I told her she could move in with me, and you’d have thought I’d stabbed her or something. She freaked out.”

  Dane grimaced at him, popping a cap off his beer and chugging it before saying, “You mean to tell me you nailed her and then asked her to move in with you? No wonder she freaked. She’s going to go down on you and you’ll be showering her with engagement rings or something.”

  “No, I wouldn’t,” Grant said in a surly voice. He was getting irritated. Sure, Dane had been a player before Miranda had whipped him into shape, but Grant wasn’t like that and his friends knew it. “I’m still, I don’t know. Adjusting. With Heather’s death, I just . . .” He sighed, picturing Heather’s bright blond hair and radiant smile. Then he pictured miles and miles of mountain and rock and snow, and then her crumpled body half-buried. He shuddered. “I don’t know.”

  Colt leaned to Rome. “Grant’s first wife died about five years ago,” he told him, catching him up. “Brenna’s his first hookup since she passed.” He gave Grant a disapproving look. “And she’s our coworker and friend, so if you hurt her, it’s going to get ugly. She’s like a sister to me.”

  “And by sister, you mean all redneck and crazy?” Dane teased. Colt threw a bottle cap in Dane’s direction, and Dane deflected it with a big hand, grinning. “Brenna’s a free spirit. You don’t chain those down.”

  “What do you know?” Grant asked.

  “I know a lot about women,” Dane proclaimed. “Had my fill of puck bunnies back in the day.”

  Rome just took another slice of pizza from one of the boxes and ate in silence, watching the others as they talked. Grant got the impression that he was absorbing every bit of the conversation as well as the exchange between the men. Not intruding, just watching and listening and analyzing.