Hitched (Steele Ranch 4)

“Tell me about her,” Micah said, taking a sip of his drink. His gold wedding ring glinted in the firelight and I was envious as fuck of that simple outward gesture of his commitment to Lacey.

I ran a hand over my face, realized I probably should have shaved because my five o’clock shadow was heading toward a beard. We’d returned from snowmobiling, showered in our rooms, ate a big meal in the dining room and were now relaxing by the fire. The only thing better than this would be if Sarah were with us. Between us. Under us.

“She grew up in Barlow with a crazy-ass mother and younger half-brother. How she turned out normal I have no idea,” I told him, wondering if her mother was on her third or fourth husband by now. Maybe even fifth. She changed husbands as fast as most people changed the oil in their car. Instead of working, she married rich men, divorced them for a big settlement and moved on.

“Sarah went off to college in Bozeman, came back and got the job as the town librarian when the lady who’d been there since forever retired,” King added. He leaned forward, grabbed the whiskey bottle we’d pulled from the hotel bar and refilled his glass with about two fingers of the amber liquid. He’d changed out of his heavy winter-wear for a blue flannel shirt, jeans and leather boots. His pale hair was slicked back from his shower, but had curled at the ends from the heat from the fireplace.

“Smart and the most amazing smile you’ve ever seen.” If Micah wanted to know about Sarah, we’d tell him. “She’s tiny, doesn’t even come up to my shoulder.” I put my hand up as if to measure her. “Sleek black hair that goes halfway down her back. Curves in all the right places.” My hand shifted as I used it to form the shape of an hourglass.

“Don’t forget the damned dimple,” King added. Micah’s gaze turned his way as King pointed to his right cheek. “That fucking dimple can bring a man to his knees.”

“But she’s not interested,” Micah repeated.

King sighed and I took a big swallow of my drink, let it burn its way down to my stomach.

“Nope,” King said. “We took her out, separately. We didn’t want to scare her with our intentions of claiming her together even though we’ve known her forever. Except for you guys around here in Bridgewater, it’s not like having two men interested in you is the norm. A few men we know in Barlow share a woman as well, but it’s not like Sarah would know about it. Expect it. She was interested. I know it. I felt it, saw it in her eyes, yet she turned me down for a third date.”

“Me, too,” I added. I had to wonder if she’d been scared, if we’d somehow pushed her too hard. Perhaps because her mother was so…bold with her affections with men, it had made Sarah inhibited. I was willing to go as slow as she needed, as long as she did need. Us.

I sighed. It was fucking frustrating because I loved her. Wanted her. Needed her. We’d waited long enough and now…now she was driving me crazy.

Micah put his glass on a coaster on the end table. “If she’s not into you, then why not see if there are any single subs at the party? Nothing wrong with scratching that itch with a willing woman if you’re single. Especially that need to dominate.” His gaze lifted and he looked over King’s head toward the reception area. “You guys like petite and curvy? Dark haired? There’s a woman talking with Rachel who fits your type.”

I huff out a laugh. “While my dick is tired of my hand,” I admitted, “it doesn’t have any interest in anyone besides—”

“What the fuck?” King said quietly. He’d shifted in his seat and was looking toward the reception desk.

I spun about at his tone and the way his eyes were practically popping out of his head. My brain couldn’t process what I was seeing, yet the words fell from my mouth.

“No. Fucking. Way.”

Sarah. In the flesh. And a whole lot of it. A black latex skirt caught the light and made it shimmer. The cut was wide, like…like a fifties skirt without the puffy petticoat beneath. Hell, I didn’t know shit about skirts. This one fell to a few inches above her knees. It wasn’t indecent, but I’d never seen so much of Sarah’s legs before. Ever. The black shoes she wore had a little strap across the front, almost school girl style, although the high heels made them anything but. They only showed off the toned legs even better. And that was just her lower half. She had on a prim white blouse, but it was short enough to show off a narrow strip of her pale waist and tied in the front. I only saw her in profile as she spoke with a woman behind the reception desk, Rachel, I assumed, but I could tell that a number of buttons were undone. Too many. Her sleek hair was back in a simple braid, as if she intended for someone to grab hold of it as they flipped up her skirt and fucked her from behind.

I shot up from the couch, stalked around it. I heard footsteps behind me and knew King followed.

“Sarah,” I said. The one word shot from my mouth like a bullet and it made her turn on her high heels.

Her gorgeous eyes widened, her mouth fell open, her pale skin went almost white, then she flushed as red as the lipstick on her full lips.

Facing me, I saw even more of her outfit. While the skirt covered her, her top did not. It was as if she’d taken one of her prim librarian blouses, skipped doing the buttons and tied it at the bottom to hold it closed. Beneath, a black lace bustier could be seen through the gaping part in the white fabric. But that wasn’t all. Because the blouse was thin, it was blatantly obvious that the bra was a half cup style that didn’t cover her nipples because I could see their dark color and how hard they were through it. And if I could see, then—

My jaw clenched and my dick swelled in my pants.

“Wilder,” she breathed. She looked left, then right, as if she were considering ways to escape.

I felt more than saw King come to stand beside me.

“King,” she added, her pink tongue darting out to lick her lips.

I crossed my arms over my chest.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice a mix of breathy seductress and the squeak of Minnie Mouse. Her hands went to her skirt, smoothed it down, although it didn’t need it, then went to her top, tucked the two halves together.

“Are we the only ones you don’t want to see your nipples?” I asked, angling with my chin to indicate her sudden modesty. It pissed me off because all that gorgeous skin, those lush curves, were meant for me and King. And she was flaunting it for others to see.

Her eyes narrowed and she tapped her toe on the tile floor. “I’m here for the BDSM night.”

It was King’s turn to look around. I saw the way his jaw ticked. “Are you here with someone? Your dom?”