The Expert’s Guide to Driving a Man Wild (Bluebonnet #3)(47)
Author: Jessica Clare

He stared at her for so long and was so quiet that she couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“Well?” she asked him.

“You’re serious?” he said slowly, gaze on her.

“I am.”

“You moved out.”

“So? That shouldn’t have anything to do with whether or not we have sex. You’re good at sex. Why can’t we have some nice, passionate, vulgar sex without involving anything else?”

He was going to turn her down. She just knew it. She’d given him a challenge—to be no strings attached—and she knew he’d pass on it.

“Fine.”

Brenna blinked in surprise. “Really?”

“Really,” he said, getting up from his desk. “You want no strings attached? That’s fine with me.”

“Great,” she said enthusiastically, bounding over to his desk. She slid her arms around his neck and reached up for a kiss.

He gently pushed her away. “No kissing. Too much attachment there.”

“Oh.” For some reason, that hurt. But she pulled away and nodded. “That’s fine.” Her hand slid to his groin and she cupped him. “Want to be naughty and f**k on the couch? No one’s around today.”

“Fine with me.”

She grabbed his hand and led him to the sofa. When she got there, she pushed at his shoulders, moving him down to the couch so she could straddle him. Excitement was pulsing through her, and she slid onto his lap, her legs spread wide over him and her face inches from his.

He wouldn’t look her in the eyes. His hands grabbed ahold of her h*ps and he pushed her down into his lap, grinding his c**k against the vee of her sex. But he wouldn’t look at her.

That was fine, she’d make him look. Brenna dragged off her top and tossed it onto the couch. She wasn’t wearing a bra underneath, since it was a loose top and there was no one around today. Her br**sts bounced and jiggled an inch from his face.

And that got his attention. Dark eyes gazed on the flesh she was practically shoving in his face, and he leaned in and lightly bit at the curve of one breast.

Brenna moaned, her h*ps bucking against him. This was what she needed.

“Take the rest of your clothes off,” he told her, his lips moving against her flesh.

She nodded and slid off his lap, quickly shucking her pants. She was now na**d of everything except her socks, but she didn’t want to bother with those. She just wanted to crawl back into his lap and feel his skin against hers. So she did, straddling him again.

His hand slid between them and his fingers brushed between her legs, heading for her piercing, and began to toy with it.

She moaned in response, arching against his hand. Oh God, that felt so good. Her fingers dug into his shirt and she clung to him, riding against his fingers.

“Get undressed, Grant,” she murmured as he continued to finger her. “Want to feel you against me.”

“Shhh,” he said, and rubbed hard against her clit.

She cried out at the sensation, arching against him, and forgot about everything but his fingers against her flesh. He stroked her slippery folds, rubbing her, and then slid two fingers deep into her sheath. Brenna gave a startled gasp at the sensation. It felt incredible. His thumb slid to her cl*t even as his fingers stroked inside her, and then he began to work her, stroking deep and brushing against her cl*t with his thumb. She moved her h*ps in time with his strokes, lost to the feel of him. She buried her head against his neck, clinging to him, lifting her h*ps with violence and slamming onto his hand. She needed more, needed him, needed so much that she ached. “Grant,” she moaned. “Grant, please f**k me.”

“Shh,” he told her again.

He continued to work her with his hand until she could stand it no longer. A choked moan escaped her again, and then she was coming, shivers all over her body as she clenched and clenched around his pumping fingers. “Grant,” she panted. “Oh God, Grant. Yes.”

Then his hand slipped from her thighs, and she was left clenching at nothing, her arms wrapped tight around his shoulders. The only sound in the lodge was the soft patter of rain and her own heavy breathing. Grant was utterly silent.

She sat up, studying him. His expression was shuttered, impossible to read. Brenna ran a hand along the front of his button-up shirt. “Let’s get you out of these clothes—”

His hand closed over hers before she could undo the first button. “No.”

“No?” She blinked at him, surprised. “I thought we were having sex?”

“You said you wanted no strings attached, right?” He shrugged his shoulders, a careless move so at odds with the Grant she knew. “Are you satisfied?”

By a little heavy petting? Yes, and no. Yes, because it quenched the itch, but it also left her wanting more. Wanting him. She frowned at him. “That wasn’t really sex.”

“That’s the only ‘no strings’ I know how to do,” he said in a cold voice. “Sorry. And if we’re done, I’m going to go change my clothes.”

She reeled as if stung. If we’re done? “What about you?”

“I’m fine.”

“Oh.” She moved off him—she couldn’t move off him fast enough. Brenna found her shirt and dragged it back on, then began to slide on her jeans. She didn’t look at him. Couldn’t. A weird sense of humiliation was sweeping over her. He’d basically diddled her just to shut her up. How cold was that?

She zipped her jeans and turned around . . . but he was gone. She was the only one in the lodge.

Oh good. That meant she could cry now. Brenna burst into tears without really understanding why she was so upset, then grabbed her car keys.

She needed to talk to someone. Maybe Miranda wasn’t busy at the library.

• • •

Grant shut the door to his cabin and leaned against it, groaning with pain.

He felt like the world’s biggest ass**le. The biggest ass**le with the world’s biggest hard-on. What he’d done to Brenna was cold. He’d known it was cold, but he couldn’t help himself. She wanted no-strings sex? He’d do his best to make sure she was satisfied and nothing more. Maybe then she’d see how much it hurt him that she didn’t want anything with him—even a casual relationship. Even sleeping in the same damn bed. They didn’t have to get married, but she also didn’t have to throw everything in his face.

Just like the way he’d done to her.

He leaned back, knocking his head against the door. Stupid. Stupid. Whatever he’d had with Brenna? He’d pretty much trashed it just now, and he was the only one suffering for it. His hand was still slick from her warmth, still smelled like her warm, wet pu**y. The front of his pants was tight from his own erection and damp from her arousal. What exactly had he been trying to prove to anyone except that he was a jackass when his feelings were hurt?