The Expert’s Guide to Driving a Man Wild (Bluebonnet #3)(23)
Author: Jessica Clare

Was he trying to get her to remove her hand? She shot him another look, but he was watching her. Brenna’s gaze flicked to the backseat, but Elise was still out of it, eyes closed, breathing even. Perfect.

She ignored the palm covering hers and wrapped her fingers around the length of him. She could feel the bulge of his cockhead through his pants and she squeezed it, then ran her hand over the length of him again. Then stroked once more.

The silence in the car was almost oppressive with tension. Brenna could feel her pu**y getting slick with excitement, Grant’s flesh hot and practically throbbing under her grip. She shifted in her seat, practically squirming with her own need. Her pulse pounded low in her hips, all her nerve endings lit up, and she had to bite back her own groan when she stroked him again. Grant’s head fell back against the seat’s headrest. His hand still rested over hers, but now it seemed more of a guide than an admonishment. He certainly wasn’t protesting. He could have pulled her hand away at any time.

And just to test that theory, she wrapped her fingers around his length and then didn’t move, waiting.

His response came a moment later, when he realized she wasn’t going to lift her fingers. His hand curled around hers, and he roughly dragged her hand, forcing her up and down his length, the movement made awkward through the fabric. But damn if that wasn’t sexy as hell. He wanted this. She practically purred with her own excitement and began to stroke him again, her hand moving harder and faster, her touch becoming bolder.

Too soon, she saw their turnoff. Damn it. Just when she was starting to have fun. Poor Grant was going to have blue balls, she thought, swallowing her wicked giggle as she carefully removed her hand from his lap and put it on the steering wheel.

His eyes opened then, and he gave her a hot, incredulous look as if to silently say why the f**k did you stop?

She turned on her blinker, the clicking sound overloud in the darkness. “Almost home,” Brenna called out, her voice deliberately cheerful.

Elise started awake and rubbed her eyes. “I always forget how long the drive back to Bluebonnet is,” she said sleepily.

Brenna smiled at her in the rearview mirror and looked over at Grant again. He was staring out the passenger side window, and she noticed he’d carefully adjusted his coat so it covered up his erection. Lucky for him he had that coat.

She pulled into the nearly empty gravel parking lot of the survival school and was surprised to see a motorcycle parked in her usual space.

“Who drives a bike?”

Brenna frowned at Grant’s question. “Don’t know. One of Dane’s friends, maybe? Or Colt’s brothers?”

“Colt’s brothers drive trucks,” Grant answered, his voice strained just a bit. “We might have company.” And he sounded dismayed at the prospect, which pleased her all the more.

Was it weird that she found it arousing to torment him? Probably.

They got out of the car, and she noticed that Grant was careful to keep his hip-length coat buttoned in the front, despite it being a fairly mild night. Her mouth twitched with amusement when he scowled at her, as if somehow needing someone to blame for his problem.

It wasn’t her fault that he’d gotten turned on, now was it?

Well, maybe just a little bit her fault.

Brenna led the way into the main lodge, Grant walking a fair distance behind them. The lights were on, which told her that someone was up and hanging out. The lodge tended to be a bit of a rec center for all of them, since the cabins were small and didn’t have much room for stretching out. Her own cabin was small, so she could only imagine how Miranda and Dane or Beth Ann and Colt felt in their own tiny cabins. A lot of evenings, she’d slip into the main lodge to make a sandwich and find both couples cuddled up on the couches, watching TV or playing video games. The two women were best friends, and the two men were, too, so it was natural that they all hung out together.

Brenna was a little envious of their clique, but the girls never forgot her when they were having a girls’ night. She’d been dragged to have her hair and nails done by Beth Ann and Miranda more times than she could even think about. It was nice to have girlfriends after years of just hanging out with guys. Shy Elise could do well with some girl time, she suspected, glancing at Grant’s sister. Elise seemed awkward and out of place at all times, unless she was with family. If she wasn’t, she just tried to quietly blend into the background. And that sort of thing was foreign to Brenna.

She opened the cabin door and headed inside, surprised to see Pop sitting on the couch, drinking a beer, their new employee Rome sitting nearby. Uh-oh. “Hey, Rome,” she called out cheerfully, waving at him. She shot a glance at Grant. “I thought I told you to come by in the morning?”

“In the morning? Is he the carpenter?” Grant looked at Brenna curiously.

“He might be,” she said quickly, giving Rome a meaningful look.

Rome stood up, all black T-shirt and arms covered in tattoos. Even his neck was covered in tattoos, and he had gauges in his ears. His face was pensive as he watched her and the others as they entered the cabin behind her. “I’m sorry. Am I intruding?”

Brenna shrugged. “Can’t really intrude. This cabin isn’t private.” She headed over and gave Pop a kiss on his leathery cheek. “How’s it hanging, Pop? You fix Grant’s car yet?”

“Not yet,” he told her mildly. “Been working on that toilet all day. You’re bad luck, missy.” But he patted her arm affectionately.

“I must be,” she said, winking at Elise’s red face. “Things always seem to break when I’m around. I must have walked under a ladder or something.”

Grant was frowning at Rome as if something wasn’t adding together, and Elise looked uncomfortable as hell. Oops. There went her plan for not telling Grant that she’d already hired someone. Well, she’d fix that in the morning. She didn’t feel like talking about it right now.

“Pop,” Brenna said, heading toward Grant’s sister. “You met Elise earlier, right?”

A noise came out of Elise’s throat that might have been a whimper, or might have been a really, really quiet hello.

Brenna ignored it. “Everyone, that guy over there with the fierce tats is Rome.”

Rome’s gaze was darting back and forth, and he had stiffened, almost as if he expected to be tossed out. “Pop mentioned I could stay here overnight, but if it’s going to be a problem—”