Hold Me Harder Page 3

  She knew her silence was unfair to him, but she couldn’t grapple with what to say, or how to say it.

  And then Chloe popped up behind him and grabbed a handful of his shirtsleeve. “Come on, Ryan!” she said, giving a yank. “Tequila shooters. Dave’s waiting for you.”

  Natalie offered her sister a quick, grateful smile. Chloe’s bouncy good nature sometimes overshadowed her intelligence, perilous for those who underestimated her. She and Dave had introduced Ryan and Natalie, and though Chloe didn’t know exactly what had gone down, she knew enough to perceive Natalie’s discomfort.

  Ryan let go of Natalie’s wrist and stood, but when Chloe wandered over to the makeshift bar set up at one of the other tables, Ryan didn’t follow her. Instead, he bent over the back of Natalie’s chair, his hand braced on the table, his stubbled jaw against her smooth one. “Tell me about the cowboy, Nat,” he murmured.

  The entire floor seemed to tip to one side and Natalie blinked it back to level. Her blurry gaze followed the tendons on the back of Ryan’s hand to the monogram sewn onto the cuff of his shirt. “What cowboy?” she said, her words as hazy as her vision. “This place is crawling with them.”

  “The only one who looked at you like he owned you. The one who looked at me like he’d happily see me caught in a stampede. The one who had you blindfolded and begging,” he murmured. “What, exactly, was he to you?”

  He’d seen through the window after all. Natalie raised her wineglass, amazed she didn’t slosh the contents over the tablecloth. She took a long, slow sip before she said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Ryan prowled into her line of sight and leaned against the table, his arms crossed. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

  “Really, Ryan. Your interest in my life is unhealthy. That girl—what was her name? Preston, Sawyer, something—she’d be happy to have more of your attention, I’m sure. You’re a good fuck.”

  He rocked back as if he’d been slapped, his brows lowering dangerously. “Since when do you sink to crudity, Natalie?”

  Never. She never sank so low. Nor did she understand why she was lashing out, except that she felt like a cornered animal. “Go away, Ryan.”

  “I will. After you tell me why you’re throwing away the last eight months without a backward glance.”

  Natalie stared while her brain yelled tell him! but she couldn’t make her lips move. He’d pushed her boundaries without consulting her first, brought a submissive around like a cat bringing his owner a mouse. She clung to her grievance tenaciously, even though it hadn’t been his ill-thought action that caused her to bolt. Just the opposite. The sight of the bound woman had made the submissive side of her yearn, offered an easy return to a lifestyle she’d chosen to shut away. All she would have had to do was put out her hands and cross her wrists. Oh, how she had ached to.

  She’d spent too long convincing herself she’d made the right choice when she gave that part of her life up. Too long to give in to a moment of weakness. Then or now.

  Dammit. She fished under her chair for her clutch and left the room without saying another word.

  As she hurried through the main dining room, Javier’s words came swirling back to her. He wants you. Like this. Natalie shook the voice out of her head. Nope. Ryan was just a typical alpha male. Sure, he exhibited an above-average air of authority and he liked his soft kinks, but he was nothing like Javier. Nothing.

  He was not…that. Was he?

  I would mentor him, Javier had said.

  No, no, no. Natalie rushed down the stairs to the lobby. She didn’t want this complication, but as she crossed the flagstone floor and heard footsteps behind her, it became obvious she wouldn’t outrun it. She glanced back and Ryan caught up with her, herding her into a small alcove fitted out as a coat room.

  Natalie spun to face him. “Why are you hounding me, dammit?”

  He grasped her upper arms. “You can’t just shut down and check out this time, Nat. You have to talk to me.”

  His hands caressed her bare arms, every stroke making Natalie’s back more rigid. “I don’t have to,” she said.

  “You’re right, I’m sorry,” he said with a sigh, the soft sound stabbing at her. He deserved credit for trying to find patience. “I’m asking you to. Jesus, the ride from Spokane was the most brutal two hours of my life. You and me in the back of a limo. My mind went everywhere, Natalie. I imagined making you sit across from me and spread your legs, telling you to run your finger over the front of your silky panties. I wanted to see the dark line where you touched, and watch your face when you came.”

  “Oh, don’t,” she whispered. He had always been gifted at painting these erotic portraits, creating vivid scenes they would often play out, leaving them both laughing and sweaty and riding the high of fantasy-fueled orgasms.

  “I miss us, Nat.”

  She had so little defense against him. Even now, he lit a slow-burning fuse inside her.

  “But the next two hours…after I saw you react to that cowboy, after I saw what he was to you? And you to him? Those were so much worse.” He skimmed his hands down her arms and wove their fingers together, then raised their clasped hands behind her back until her elbows winged out. Besides restraining her, the maneuver had the added benefit of making her breasts rub against his chest. He looked down, a flash of craving in his off-kilter smile. “I’ve wanted to make you mine like that from the minute I met you, Nat. I wanted to be the one to make you sit between my thighs, to blindfold you. I wanted to be the one to tie your hands and touch you until you screamed,” he said, his lips against her ear. “I handled you with kid gloves because I thought you didn’t know what seemed so obvious to me, but it turns out, you’ve known all along.”

  She flinched at his wounded tone. “I’m not—whatever you think.”

  “You were his sub.”

  Natalie blew a frustrated breath and raised her eyes to meet his. “Was. Not anymore.” Saying it out loud didn’t make her feel any more certain she could keep the claim.

  He inched their hands higher, and she hitched a breath. “I don’t think so, Nat. I know the sound of that breath, that look in your eye. I know what I’d find if I reached between your legs.”

  Natalie turned her head, confused and embarrassed. “Speaking of crude.”

  “I know,” he said. “But I’m not wrong, am I?”

  This could not be happening. What higher being had she offended to deserve her life being turned upside down and inside out like this? And in the course of only a few hours.

  “Look at me, Natalie,” Ryan said, his tone clipped.

  Her gaze snapped to his. She couldn’t not look, not when he spoke to her like that. And all she could think was, how hadn’t she seen it before? “We didn’t work out, Ryan. Please let it go.”

  “But we did, babe.” He let her arms down. “That’s why I don’t understand. I did something incredibly stupid. Juvenile, in fact. Just…I have no excuse except I knew there could be so much more for us.”

  Natalie huffed a laugh, one devoid of humor. “You should have asked first.”

  “I knew what you’d say. I thought actually seeing it might sway you.” He touched his forehead to hers. “Damn, I’m so sorry. I never meant to freak you out. I never wanted to lose you, Nat.”

  He’d explained all this the day she’d booted him out. She’d heard the words, but now they were cast in a different light. Now that she knew more about him, and about herself. She took in the rosy flush high on his cheeks, the square set of his jaw. Apprehension and anticipation, both.

  Whatever Ryan saw in her face, one side of his mouth rose slowly into the rogue’s smile that used to set the fluttery things inside her free. The one that invited her to play. He wrapped both her wrists with one strong hand while his other hand cupped her bottom and pulled her close. “What I really wanted in the limo,” he said, his voice rough as he nipped along the curve of her ear, “was to bend you over my knee, bare your ass, an
d for you to turn to me and say, please.”

  Heat surged through her, and Natalie had to close her eyes, waiting for the flood to recede. She wanted to weep with the urge to let him, take his hand and lead him to her room, let him tie her up, bare her, mark her, play out a scene. Even with the ghost of Javier’s handprint still on her ass. Damn that Spaniard for reawakening all her darkest impulses.

  When the urgency passed, she raised her face and pressed her lips to his. “Please,” she whispered. “Don’t.”

  He pulled back, his expression stark, and after a long, silent pause, he let go of her. She couldn’t look at him as she slipped past him and fled.

  Her heels beat on the floor as she made for her room, desperate to unsee Ryan’s wounded gaze. Once there, Natalie curled under a blanket on her chaise and stared into the night. Regardless of what Javier thought, she had managed fine outside of the submissive lifestyle. She wasn’t completely fulfilled, but so what? Who the hell was?

  Her months with Ryan had been lovely, enhanced by their spicy vanilla sex life. Javier had loved and molded her with his steady dominance, but Ryan made her laugh, and laughed easily himself, allowed her to experience…normal…ish. When their games occasionally made her ache for some of the sharper edges of her life with Javier, for Ryan to take her firmly in hand…well, she reminded herself she’d walked away from being a submissive for a reason.

  Not that her reason made much sense at the moment.

  Not when her Benedict Arnold of a brain conjured an image of Javier. Rugged and robust, with his air of old patrician entitlement, his rough hands, and sun-drenched skin. Wrapping her wrists in leather, looking down on her as she worshiped him with her mouth. A dominant through and through.

  Ryan wavered beside him. Sleek and modern in his tailored suit, the top button of his shirt undone, his hand on her head as she knelt, bound at his feet, his shiny, expensive belt in his fist.

  A shiver traced down her spine.

  Restless, she went into the bathroom and confronted herself in the mirror. Her secure little box had been flung open, all her secrets, her dark needs and kinky desires, exposed for anyone to see. Yet hadn’t she proven today that being a submissive didn’t detract one bit from her strong, professional side? Javier and Ryan both seemed to believe she could, should, embrace both.

  She had known coming back to Javier’s ranch might mean confronting her fears head on. She simply hadn’t considered Ryan would be the one to skewer the truth home.

  Despite her restless night, Natalie lurched out of bed at gawdawful-o’clock to answer a knock on the door. One of the ranch’s young employees rolled in a room service cart with a pot of coffee, fresh berries and croissants, and a wrapped package.

  Javier, damn him. He knew her well, but did it have to be so early? She poured a cup and sat down to prod the envelope from under the box’s ribbon. Inside, she found a hand-scrawled note.

  Come to the barn at 10 wearing this and the things I left in your room yesterday. Check the bedside drawer. I trust by the extraordinary weight of your suitcase you brought your boots. ~J

  Natalie unwrapped the box and drew out a short-sleeved, flower-printed prairie dress. She rubbed the fine fabric between her thumb and fingers, lost in thought again. She’d spent most of the night tossing and turning, contemplating both Javier’s statement of her strengths and Ryan’s question of her fears. Now, by the light of day, she had to admit she had been silly. The only question left was what she intended to do about it. She held the dress out at arm’s length. Maybe, just maybe, she could let her submissive side out of the cage, just for a weekend.

  She slid open the bedside table drawer and found the sexiest panties she’d ever laid eyes on. The front was demure enough. Dark gray netting that would mostly cover her girl bits, pretty black lace along the leg, and a thin fuchsia band along the top edge. But the back was something else entirely. The lace continued around the leg, but above that there was…not much. Six pink strings formed a sort of web, connected at the waist with a black bow. And crotchless, of course. The fuchsia satin bra was entirely tame by comparison.

  She looked down at the note and drew a deep breath. She would go to Javier and make sure he understood that yesterday, and whatever was to come today, was temporary—for this weekend only. She’d deal with Ryan later.

  After a long bath and another hour of primping, Natalie left her room and meandered to the corrals, earlier than Javier had directed.

  She found him working a gorgeous black stallion whose scraggly bangs covered his eyes and reached half the length of his nose. The horse, high-stepping and dancing on his lead, had trouble written all over him. Javier whistled sharply, an affront to the animal that resulted in an elegant but dangerous pivot on his rear legs. The move had Javier ducking and cursing the headstrong stallion’s entire maternal lineage.

  Natalie grinned and propped her elbows on the top rail to watch the war of wills. “I could learn something from him,” she said when Javier shouldered the horse’s flank on another prancing twirl.

  “Don’t encourage him,” Javier growled. “He’s showing off.”

  “Is he?” Natalie turned and spied the real trouble at the opposite end of the corral complex. “Oh, she’s a beauty.”

  “He thinks so,” Javier said, grunting. He gave another sharp whistle and the randy horse shook his mane but finally settled.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t have corralled her upwind,” Natalie said, her brows raised.

  Javier graced her with his most severe expression, one she’d seen even his seasoned employees shrink from. “Your opinion is duly noted,” he said, annoyance making his accent so pronounced his English grew almost impossible to understand.

  Trying not to grin, Natalie shrugged and pulled an imaginary zipper across her lips. When the stallion started up again, Javier called over his shoulder. “Make yourself useful, would you? Walk her to the back barn. And be sure you secure the door. Madre de dios, hijo!” he snapped, yanking down on the stallion’s lead as the horse reared again.

  Natalie strolled up to the docile mare, who appeared entirely uninterested in the stallion’s antics. As Javier had taught her, Natalie let the horse smell her hand and spoke to her in a low monotone before hooking the rope he had left dangling from the fence rail onto her halter. The two of them ambled to the smaller back barn Javier kept for breeding and foaling. Natalie led the mare to the largest stall, gave her a slightly withered carrot from a coffee can outside the gate, and locked her inside. By the time she returned to the corral, both Javier and the stallion were gone, but the barn door stood partially open.

  She wandered into the airy, high-ceilinged building. Javier took great pride in his barn. The elite horse breeders of Spain boasted centuries of tradition, and pride dictated maintaining their horses in luxurious conditions, even in Idaho. We must show them how deeply we care for them if we expect them to carry us through peril, Javier had once told her. No different than the way one treats a lover.

  Two horses nearest the door poked their noses over their stall doors and sniffed the air. She didn’t recognize either of them. Javier had replenished his stock since she’d been here last.

  “They’re flirting, those two.” Javier’s voice floated from the far end of the barn, along with the squeak and clink of a saddle and the scrape of his boot heels across the floor. “Don’t give them any attention for it.”

  “These rascals, too?” Ignoring Javier’s grousing, she reached out to rub one silky nose. The gorgeous Paint blew a wet sniff onto her hand then breathed it back, taking her measure.

  “They’re horny. What do you expect?” Javier approached from down the long aisle. He’d thrown on his shirt, but hadn’t bothered to button it and sweat dripped enticingly down his chest as he toted his saddle in front of him, his hands hidden by blankets and the dangling fender. He whistled through his teeth. Natalie snatched her hand back as the colt flung up his head and shook his mane in irritation before he shuffled back from the gate
.

  “At least this one minds better,” she said.

  “He’s much stupider than the wild man out there. Sit down, cariño,” Javier said, raising his chin toward a spot behind her.

  Natalie looked around. There was only one so-called seat, a hay bale pushed against the wall outside the office door. It would make an uncomfortable place for his employees to wait should Señor Vazquez wish to see them. Which was probably the point. Natalie perched on the edge of the bale.

  “Real cowboy work this morning?” She glanced from his hat to his chaps to his dusty boots.

  He almost smiled. “The dress is nice. Sit back, cariño. Spread your legs, pull your skirt over your knees.”

  She looked up, judging his intent. “Javier—”

  He twitched his head, questioning her small defiance.

  Sighing, she gathered the fabric and drew it over her knees. “Where are all the hands? It’s awfully quiet in here for this time of the morning.”

  “They’re on the trails getting the overlook cleaned up. Your sister asked for cocktail hour with a view.” His head tilted, as if he might see further under her dress. “Dios mio. Is there anything more alluring than the shadow between a woman’s thighs?”

  Natalie had to distract him until they could discuss her limits. “Is that what Chloe has planned? Won’t it be dark when we come down?”

  “We’ll have lamps,” Javier said, his voice gravely. “Higher, cariño.”

  “You’re drunk on horse hormones,” she said. Still, she tugged the hem higher.

  “If I were, I’d have been over your back with my cock in you by now.”

  “Javier,” she said, trying to ignore the rush of sensation low in her belly.

  His laugh rumbled in the hush of the barn even after he disappeared into the tack room.