Roni Loren - Fall Into You

She shuddered, flashbacks of her teen years rolling through her mind—the constant checking in and explaining herself to her dad and brothers. “Don’t you think that’s a little overboard?”

He frowned. “Hopefully, it is. I hope that none of this is necessary. But I’m not willing to take a chance.”

She sighed. “Right.”

“As for when you’re here, feel free to explore the grounds, but stay on this side of the property. That long fence along the eastern edge divides the winery from the resort. Members only on the other side.”

She glanced back at him, eyebrow lifted. “Seriously?”

“Is that a problem?”

“No, it’s not like I’m here for a vacation. I just didn’t realize it was exclusive with a capital E .” She grabbed a bag of chips and opened them, her lack of dinner finally hitting her. “You’re not housing the mob over there or something, are you?”

He pushed off the counter to rise to his full height and smiled. “No, nothing so sinister.”

She eyed him, sensing he wasn’t telling her everything, but his smile didn’t falter. She held out the bag of chips. “Want some?”

Instead of taking a chip from the bag, he plucked the one from between her fingertips and popped it in his mouth. “The resort’s room service is available on this side, too—twenty-four-seven. There’s a menu in the desk drawer. Dial three on the phone and you can get anything delivered to your door, no charge.”

“Oh, that’s really generous, but I think I’m covered.”

“A woman can’t live by cheap wine and ham sandwiches alone. I’ll make sure a bottle of wine and tonight’s roast chicken make it over here within the half hour.” He snagged his keys off the counter, spinning the loop around his finger and sauntered toward the side door, giving her an unimpeded view of broad shoulders and that lovely, jean-covered backside. “Give me a call if you need anything else or have any questions.”

She smirked. “What? You’re not sticking around to make sure I get tucked into bed all right?”

He halted his step and she had the urge to put her hands over her face. She’d meant the question as a joke, but once the words were out of her mouth, she’d realized how they’d sounded. Like a lame attempt at flirting.

And maybe it had been exactly that.

Maybe she wanted him to stay and help her forget her awful day.

But he kept his back to her and turned his head to the side, revealing only his profile. “I don’t think that’d be a good idea, Charli.”

“Right,” she said softly, then added: “I was only kidding.”

“Good night, freckles.”

She sank back against the counter. Good was about the last thing tonight could be called.

The wine better make it over here quickly.

The night was filled with a harmony of frogs and crickets as Grant headed back to his house after checking on things at The Ranch. He had interviewed a potential trainee tonight—one who was having trouble letting go of control in her scenes with other doms. She’d been pretty and open to the type of play he enjoyed. She’d read through his contract and didn’t have any major sticking points. But once he’d started talking to her, he figured out one thing rather quickly—he had no desire to tie her up and beat her. And that was a damn shame.

So instead, he’d thanked her for her time and had gone back to work. He’d ended up spending half an hour mediating a tiff between two longtime members over who had reserved what playroom when, then had worked the floor for the rest of the night. But instead of all that business clearing his mind, walking the play spaces had only inspired images of his new “neighbor” and how she would look naked and restrained on all that equipment—how she’d feel writhing beneath his hands and mouth.

In the end, he’d left with a hard-on and headache. Not exactly the kind of night he’d been craving.

He took a swig from the bottle of water he’d grabbed on his way out and made the last turn in the path toward his place. The glow of his porch light burned in the distance. Almost home. But snapping twigs and a muffled curse somewhere off to the left had him slowing his steps. He turned, squinting through the inky darkness and cluster of trees. “Hello?”

More unintelligible sounds, then a clear “goddammit.”

Uh-oh. He took a step in the direction of the noise. “Charli? Is that you?”

“No.”

But it was. Even having just met her, he would recognize that slight rasp in her voice anywhere. Despite his best efforts, the sound went straight to his groin every damn time. Something about that hint of hoarseness made him think of how she would sound when she cried out in pleasure. Or pain. He was a fan of both.

He adjusted the front of his jeans and made his way through the grove of trees, almost afraid of what he’d find. Once he got to the other side and the moon offered enough light to find her, he discovered Charli sitting in a puddle of mud with her hands above her head, holding something.

“What in the hell?”

She looked to the heavens and groaned. “Can you take this please? If it gets wet, they’ll probably fire me.”

He grabbed the device from her, an iPad from what he could tell, and offered her a hand. “Need some help?”

“I got it.” She pushed herself up and then grimaced when she put weight on her right leg. “Ouch.”

He had to hide his own grimace, but for a completely different reason. Since he’d left her earlier, she’d changed into boxers and a T-shirt—both of which were now soaked and covered in mud. If it had been anyone else, it would’ve been comical. But all he could focus on was how the garments now clung and outlined every naked part beneath—curves and dips and points. Mud wrestling had never sounded so tempting.

He cleared his throat, thankful for the dark night as his cock hardened behind the fly of his pants. “Are you all right?”

“I think I tripped over a root or something.” She shifted her weight to her other foot and winced a bit. “Pissed off my ankle.”

He frowned at the way her words stumbled into each other, hearing the slight slur in her voice for the first time. Apparently the wine had made it over to her cabin. “Let me help you get back to your place. Do you need me to carry you?”

She shook her head, swaying on her feet ever so slightly. “I can…manage. Just carry the tablet so I don’t get any of this on it. Don’t need another talk from the boss, now do I?”

She took a few hobbling steps and tilted to the left. He reached out and grabbed her elbow. “Enjoyed the wine, Charli?”

“It was soooo smooth,” she said, flashing him an off-kilter smile and stumbling another step. “And potent.”

“So I see.” He tightened his grip, halting her. “Tell you what. This isn’t working. Wait here and don’t move.”

Before she could protest, he left her standing there in the dark and jogged toward her cabin. She’d thankfully left the door unlocked, saving him the trouble of going to his place for the key. Once inside, he found the half-empty bottle of wine and a cupcake wrapper. The roasted chicken he’d sent over looked untouched. He set her computer tablet on the counter and grabbed a large towel from the bathroom.

He hustled back outside, finding she had followed his instruction, something that gave him more pleasure than it should have. He handed her the towel. “Clean off what you can, then I’m carrying you the rest of the way. You may have sprained your ankle.”