“C’mon, babe,” her boyfriend yelled, already buck naked in the lake. “The water’s great.” Not waiting for her response, he waded out deeper, heading for a blonde who looked as if she had substituted bouncy breasts for cheerleading pom-poms.
Rebecca glanced from the water to the trail, back to the water, where Matt wrestled with Ashley, and back to the trail again.
Logan could see the exact moment she decided to leave. He walked over to block her way.
“Excuse me,” she said politely.
“No.”
Red surged into her cheeks, and her eyes narrowed as she glared at him. Red-gold hair. Freckles. Big bones. Looked like she had Irish ancestry and the temper to go with it. Stepping sideways to block her again, Logan tucked his thumbs into his front pockets and waited for the explosion.
“Listen, Mr. Hunt—”
“It’s Logan,” he interrupted and tried not to grin as her mouth compressed.
“Whatever. I’m going back to my cabin. Please move your… Please move.”
“Sorry, sugar, but no one hikes alone. That’s one safety rule I take seriously.” He glanced at the swingers. “I can’t leave them, and you can’t walk alone, so you’re stuck here.”
Her eyes closed, and he saw the iron control she exerted over her emotions.
The Dom in him wondered how quickly he could break through that control to the woman underneath. Tie her up, tease her a bit, and watch her struggle not to give in to her need and… Hell, talk about inappropriate thoughts.
He pulled in a breath to cool off. No use. It was blistering hot, and not just from his visions of steamy sex. Nothing like global warming in the mountains. He frowned when he noted her damp face and the sweat soaking her long-sleeved, heavy shirt. Not good. The woman needed to get her temperature down.
At the far end of the meadow, the forest would provide shade. He could send her there to sit and cool off, but she’d be out of sight, and from the obstinate set of that pretty, pink mouth, she’d head right back down the trail in spite of his orders.
Shoulders straight, chin up, feet planted. Definitely a rebellious one, the type that brought his dominant nature to the fore. He’d love to give her an order and have her disobey, so he could enjoy the hell out of paddling that soft ass. But she wasn’t his to discipline, more’s the pity, since a woman like this was wasted on that pretty boy.
And he’d gotten sidetracked.
With a sigh, he returned to the problem at hand. She needed to stay here where he could keep an eye on her, and she needed to cool off.
“Even if you don’t strip down completely, at least take some clothes off and wade in the water,” he said. “You’re getting overheated.”
“Thank you, but I’m fine,” she said stiffly.
“No, you’re not.” When he stepped closer, he felt the warmth radiating off her body. Being from San Francisco, she wouldn’t be accustomed to the dryness or the heat. “Either strip down, little rebel, or I’ll toss you in with your clothes on.”
Her mouth dropped open.
He wouldn’t, would he? Rebecca stared up at the implacable, cold eyes, seeing the man’s utter self-confidence. Definitely not bluffing.
Well, he could be as stern as he wanted. Damned if she’d take her clothing off and display her chunky, scarred legs. She shook her head, backing away. If she needed to, she’d run.
Faster than she could blink, he grabbed her arm.
She tugged and got nowhere. “Listen, you can’t—”
With one hand, he unbuttoned her heavy shirt, not at all hindered by her efforts to shove his hand away. After a minute, her shirt flapped open, revealing her bra and her pudgy stomach. “Damn you!”
She glanced at the lake, hoping for Matt to rescue her, and froze. He was kissing the oh-so-perky Ashley, and not just a peck on the lips but a full clinch and deep-throating tongues. Rebecca stared as shock swept through her, followed by a wave of humiliation. He… As her breath hitched, she tore her gaze away, blinking against the welling tears. Why had she ever come here?
“Oh, sugar, don’t do that now.” Logan pulled her up against his chest, ignoring her weak protest. His arms held her against chest muscles hard as the granite outcroppings, and he turned so she couldn’t see the lake. Silently, he stroked a hand down her back while she tried to pull herself together.
Matthew and Ashley would have sex. Soon. Somehow she hadn’t quite understood the whole concept of swinging and what her gut-level reaction would be. But she could take it now that she realized…what would happen. After drawing in a shaky breath, she firmed her lips. Fine.
And if Logan insisted she strip to bra and panties, that was fine too. So what if these people saw her giant thighs and ugly scars. She’d never see any of them again. Ever.
For a second, she let herself enjoy the surprising comfort of Logan’s arms. Then she pushed away.
She flushed and looked away. God, how embarrassing. She had melted down in front of a total stranger, showing him exactly how insecure she was. But he’d been nice, and she owed him. “Thank you for…uh…the shoulder.”
With a finger, he turned her face back to him. “I like holding you, Rebecca. Come to me anytime you need a shoulder.” A crease appeared in his cheek. He ran his finger across the skin at the top of her lacy bra, his finger slightly rough, sending unexpected tingles through her. “You think I can talk you out of this too?”
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About Cherise Sinclair
A New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author, Cherise is renowned for writing heart-wrenching romances with devastating alpha males, laugh-out-loud dialogue, and absolutely sizzling sex.
I met my dearheart when vacationing in the Caribbean. Now I won’t say it was love at first sight. Actually since he stood over me, enjoying the view down my swimsuit top, I might have been a tad peeved—as well as attracted. But although we were together less than two days and lived on opposite sides of the country, love can’t be corralled by time or space.
We’ve now been married for many, many years. (And he still looks down my swimsuit tops.)
Nowadays, I live in the west with this obnoxious, beloved husband, a puppy with way too much energy, and a cat who rules us with a fuzzy, iron paw. I’m a gardener, and I love nurturing small plants until they’re big and healthy and productive…and ripping defenseless weeds out by the roots when I’m angry. I enjoy thunderstorms, collecting eggs from the chickens, and visiting the local brewery for the darkest, maltiest beer on tap. My favorite way to spend an evening is curled up on a couch next to the master of my heart, watching the fire, reading, and…well…if you’re reading my books, you obviously know what else happens in front of fires.
~ Cherise
Connect with Cherise in the following places:
Website:
CheriseSinclair.com
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Table of Contents
Cover
About the Book
Title Page
Copyright Page
Acknowledgements
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Daonain Glossary
About Master of the Mountain
Excerpt from Master of the Mountain
Also from Cherise Sinclair
About Cherise Sinclair