She glanced over the list. Where the hell had Kady come up with this crap? A freaking feather? With a few exceptions—a newspaper—all of it required her to go into the forest surrounding Beaver Creek Resort. “On second thought, I’m not that interested in seeing whatever Kady came up with for a prize. You go on ahead and try your luck.”
“Aw, come on. I wouldn’t expect you to back off so easily.”
“I don’t back down, and I don’t lose when I set my mind on something.” But there was nothing wrong with a tactful retreat.
“Obviously you don’t want Logan as much as you think if you’re already giving up. In case you didn’t know, that guy lives for this nature shit. He’s probably already out here gathering ancient Indian arrowheads and fossils and fuck-all if I know.”
Giving up. Two dirty words if she ever heard them. She didn’t give up. Never had. No, Regan analyzed the problem, and then proceeded to find her way over, under, around, or—sometimes—through it.
She’d let her reluctance to spend any more time than necessary with Brock cloud her judgment. He was right—if she wanted a chance at Logan, she was going to have to work a little harder. Which meant going into that treed hellhole.
Maybe she should have packed some bug spray.
“Fine. Let’s go. But keep your goddamn hands to yourself.”
“Me?” He grabbed the paper. “I’m a gentleman. You’re the one who practically threw a bag over my head and dragged me off to be your love slave.”
“It has nothing to do with love.” And now she couldn’t get the image of his sliding in and out of her as she rode him out of her mind. She gritted her teeth. Fucking fabulous.
“My mistake.” He made a showy gesture, waving her toward the path. “Ladies first—even ones with dubious virtue.”
“Dubious. You’ve been using that Word of the Day app again.” She strode into the trees, taking half a second to wish she’d worn more practical shoes. The problem was she didn’t own any practical shoes aside from her gym shoes. And she wouldn’t be caught dead in them outside of a treadmill. “Too much more of that and someone who didn’t know better might think you actually have an IQ to brag about.”
“Careful—I might think you like me if you keep up that kind of talk.”
“God forbid.” It was darker beneath the trees, the tall trunks cutting off the sun and creating shadows. Something moved off to her right and she jumped. “What the hell was that?”
Brock followed her gaze. “Ah, yes. The rabid tree squirrel. Very dangerous.” He turned back with a grin that made her stomach flip-flop. “Don’t worry—I’ll protect you.”
When had anyone ever offered her something like that, even jokingly?
She knew the answer without even thinking about it. Never. She was Regan, independent lover, corporate warrior, driven career woman. People looked to her for answers and to take care of their needs. They never offered to return the favor.
He’s making fun of you, you idiot. Get your shit together. She swallowed down the unfamiliar feeling in her throat and forced a cocky smile. “Squirrel vanquisher. I’d be sure to add that to your résumé.”
Satisfied she had the last laugh, she turned and started walking again. A feather. How freaking hard was it to find a feather in the forest? Shouldn’t there be birds flapping around and being annoying? She didn’t see a single sign of one.
“Don’t forget to mention my orgasm-bringing skills.” His voice came from entirely too close behind her. “I mean, hell, I didn’t even touch you and you came within seconds. Imagine what I could do if I actually got my mouth on you.”
She jumped and then cursed herself for showing even that much response. Making sure her smile was in place, she turned—and jumped again. He stood not a foot from her, towering over her despite her six-inch heels. This close, his magnetism was an almost-physical thing. She had to actively concentrate on not leaning into him.
Frankly, it pissed her off.
So she cocked her hip out and propped her hand on it. “I think your memory is faulty. If you think back really hard, it’ll become clear that I brought about my own orgasms. You just happened to be there.”
If she expected him to jerk back or look horrified or hurt, she was sadly mistaken. His grin never wavered. “Is that so?”
God, this man’s voice should be illegal. When he looked at her like that, it made it really hard to remember why touching him was a terrible idea. She lifted her chin. “Yep.”
“It’s adorable the way you have to work yourself into a tizzy to keep from kissing me.”
“A tizzy?”
“Mm-hmm.” Had he moved closer? She wasn’t sure. But then his grin widened and she lost her thought. Goddamn laugh lines. “An adorable tizzy. All quick talking and the like, as if it really means anything.”
“It does.” She licked her lips. “It means I’m not even remotely interested in you.”
“Not even a little bit, huh?” His hands dropped to her waist, and even though she knew she should shove him off, she couldn’t help following his gentle nudging forward. Brock’s gaze fastened on her mouth. “I’m about to make a liar out of you.”
“Wha—”
He took her mouth like he was sure of his welcome, like he knew it was exactly what she wanted. And it was better than she could have imagined. Brock’s tongue dipped between her lips to caress hers, the taste of him intoxicating. She slipped her arms around his neck and ran her fingers through his too-long hair. The man was temptation personified. It just wasn’t fair.
She moaned as he moved over her jaw and down her throat, his whiskers rasping against her skin. He nipped the spot where her neck met her shoulder and then continued down. When she realized his intention she arched her back, trying to give him better access. God help her, but this was what she’d wanted from the moment she’d set eyes on him earlier, the swagger in his stride speaking of the breathtakingly sexy things they’d done last night.
“Jump.”
His meaning became clear when he grabbed her ass and slid his hands down the back of her thighs. Regan hopped and wrapped her legs around his waist, the move making her dress ride up to indecent levels. Anyone who walked up this path would get the show of their lives.
She shook her head, trying to think past the lust muddling her brain. “Someone could see…”
He nodded and stepped off the path, winding through the trees until they couldn’t see it anymore. She had a panicked realization that she was in the freaking forest. Then he kissed her again, and Regan decided Brock would just have to live up to his squirrel-vanquishing abilities because she wasn’t sure she was capable of walking away from him right now.
While she was freaking out about being surrounded by nature, he’d taken advantage of her distraction to slip her dress strap off her shoulder. One good tug and he freed her breast. “Jesus, woman. I knew you weren’t wearing a bra.”
“I—” She gasped when he took her nipple into his mouth. “Don’t stop doing that.”
He cupped her ass, shifting her until the hard ridge of him pressed right where she needed it. Using little motions, he made her ride him—something she was only too happy to help with. Noises came out of her mouth that didn’t sound remotely human, but she couldn’t help it, not when the pressure built inside her, pushed ever higher by the slide of her silk panties against his slacks and his mouth on her nipple.
“More. Oh my God, more.”
He released her breast and reclaimed her mouth as he circled his hips, the new sensation send
ing her flying over the edge. She clung to him as she came, shudders racking her body that he seemed to take pleasure in drawing out. Only when he’d wrung every bit from her body did he help her stand and step back.
Regan stared at him, using every bit of strength she had not to let her shaking legs collapse. He was breathing just as hard as she was, and there was no mistaking the length of his cock making a rather impressive imprint on his slacks.
While she was staring at his hips, he caught her chin in unyielding fingers and forced her to meet his eyes. “Let’s not tell lies between friends. You just came so fucking hard, you can barely stand right now. That wasn’t you using my body—that was me making you lose your damn mind.”
“I—”
But he continued right over her. “So if I’m such a fuckup, what does that make you—the woman who can’t keep her hands off me?”
Before she could come up with an answer, he turned and strode away, leaving her alone, surrounded by trees. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to dredge up some anger. It was slow in coming, battling through the desire still sparking along her skin. So much for squirrel vanquisher. He’d lured her out here, made her orgasm, and left her to whatever bloodthirsty creature found her first.
“Lured? Really?” Okay, so that wasn’t strictly accurate. It was hard to lure someone anywhere when they’re wrapped around you like a deranged spider monkey.
She gave herself a shake. This wasn’t about him abandoning her to die. No, this was about him throwing down a gauntlet. He thought he could put her in her place? Fat chance.
She had bigger fish to fry.
But if it made Brock feel better to think he’d one-upped her this time, he could just go on thinking that. And she’d do her damnedest not to dwell on the fact that he’d just given her one of the best orgasms of her life.
She straightened her dress and turned a slow circle. He’d only taken like five steps to get back here. It shouldn’t be this hard to figure out which way he’d gone. Regan turned around again. Or it wouldn’t be hard if she were an expert tracker-slash-zombie-killer like Daryl from The Walking Dead.