Make Me Yours Page 2

  “If you’re trying to find your pants, they’re on the stairs.” I thumbed over my shoulder. “You can put them on while you’re on your way out of my life.”

  His shoulders stiffened but his erection flagged. I glanced away. I didn’t need to see that. “What did you say?”

  “You heard me. I’m not doing this anymore. I won’t be associated with you, not even in the tabloids. When your PR firm wants to know what went wrong, you can sort it out.”

  His lip curled back in a sneer. “Fine. I don’t need your stuck-up bitch face to get me where I’m going. I was only into you for the connection, to get the world looking at my band. I’ve got that now and I don’t need you anymore. It’s not like you ever put out.”

  Thank god for that. I had to thank my busy schedule for once to have kept me away from his dick. We’d done things together—events, dinners, casual parties—but never alone and never naked.

  He climbed off the bed, tugging off the used condom and tossing it in my trashcan. “You know what, Lacey? Go ahead, call the fucking cops. Get the press in here, too. Let’s make this breakup official.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement in the doorway. I whipped my head around to find someone from the party had already found us. The guy wore a stage crew t-shirt across his narrow chest and a had his phone pointed at me, Chris and the blonde who, instead of scrambling away in shame, had dropped to her knees on the carpeted floor and devoted herself to reviving Chris’s limp dick.

  “Put that away,” I growled.

  “Fuck, no. Keep it out. Let’s get this on camera.” Chris fisted the blonde’s hair and pressed deep into her mouth until she gagged.

  Slamming the phone down, I turned my back on Chris and everything else, stopping only long enough to grab my clutch from my carry-on. If they wanted to film a porno, so be it. I wanted nothing to do with it. I wanted nothing to do with him. I didn’t need the police. Chris and his party people would leave eventually. The PR firm who’d put us together in the first place would do damage control on the house and my public image tomorrow.

  Or they wouldn’t. I pushed past the guy in the doorway, who kept the camera on the little sexcapade in my bedroom, down the stairs and out the front door—which still stood open. The fresh air did nothing to make me feel better. As I called for another car to pick me up and settled on the curb at the end of the driveway to wait, I realized I didn’t care whether anybody cleaned up this mess or not.

  I just didn’t care. This was not my life. This was not me. I needed out. Away. I just didn’t know where to go.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Micah

  “There’s a pretty girl. Go on, gobble it right up. I’ve got more where that came from. Long as you behave, you’ll get your fill.”

  Behind me, the scuff of a boot preceded an amused laugh. “This one doesn’t need buttering up, Micah. I picked out my easiest girl for you.”

  “That right here is why we’re still single, Colt. I’ve never met a lady who didn’t need at least a little bit of seduction. This filly’s no different, are you, girl?”

  The horse rolled her big brown eyes and tossed her head as if to tell me to get lost so she could enjoy her apple in peace. After giving the other mare her own treat, I left the pair of horses to munch at the edge of the corral and strode over to where Colt Benson was pulling down the gear I’d need for my mount and the mares my clients would be riding.

  The September sun was still warm and I stopped to roll the sleeves of my long-sleeved shirt up.

  “Our seduction game’s just fine. It’s our judgment that’s shit.” Colt tossed saddlebags my way.

  I couldn’t argue with his assessment because it was true. Our—yes, our, because we were Bridgewater men, and we’d been raised the Bridgewater way—romantic judgment didn’t have a good track record.

  My phone vibrated in the back pocket of my jeans. I pulled it out long enough to scan the message, then deleted it.

  “She still texting you?”

  I glanced at Colt before putting my phone away and grabbing my packing list. “She never stopped. Next time we date a woman, we’re using a burner phone until we’re sure she’s not bat shit crazy.”

  A month earlier, we’d been ready to hook up with a woman we’d met at a bar in the next town over. She was pretty, fun, sexually adventurous, and not the least bit put off when Colt and I explained the two of us were a package deal. She’d been more than fine with that, at least for the night, and so had we. That was until her husband met us in the parking lot with a bottle of lube, a box of extra small condoms and a webcam. That had kept our dicks in our pants ever since.

  I wasn’t the kind of man who needed a warm woman in my bed every night of the week, but I also wasn’t the type to have extended sleepovers with my hand.

  I didn’t regret or resent the dry spell. It had helped me clear my head and really narrow down what I wanted for my life. However, one side effect of all that introspection and abstinence was now I could clearly picture the life I wanted and the kind of woman I wanted to fill my days and nights. Not just a woman, a wife. A woman to share our lives permanently. Mine and Colt’s. To make a family.

  That kind of clarity had brought a sense of urgency that hadn’t existed before. Knowing what I wanted, I wanted it now. I wanted a willing woman, one who would crook her finger and we’d happily strip bare and fuck her hard. She’d want it, wild and dirty, with her husbands. Why? Because the woman for us liked it rough, liked it playful and liked it all the time.

  I shifted my cock, getting hard at just the thought of the woman for us and what we’d do with her.

  Colt ran a hand over the back of his neck, probably thinking about how we’d escaped a bad situation. “Good thing there’s no cell reception where you’re headed.”

  Two days of no texts from a crazy woman hoping Colt and I would fuck her while her husband watched—and recorded it. That was a good thing. The price? Riding into the backcountry with a pair of newlyweds. “Hopefully it won’t be like that one time where I had to listen to the couple fucking like bunnies. I swear, they needed to go beyond the first big boulder they found.” I winced at the not-so-pleasant memory. “Not my idea of a good time.”

  I wanted to experience that level of eagerness for my mate that I took her bent over the nearest flat —or mostly flat—surface I could find. I wanted passion and commitment, to have a willing, soft woman beneath me. Hell, on top of me would work, too. Even over a damn boulder. Riding my cock while her breasts bounced as Colt took her ass at the same time.

  “I’ll lead the horses with you to the cabin, then I’m going to enjoy a quiet day on my own. Work on the framing. I’d love to get it closed in before winter. Then I’ll settle into my big, soft bed.” He grinned, adjusted his cowboy hat. “Sucks to be you.”

  Shaking my head, I stuffed the last of the gear into the saddle bags, checked it off the list, and pointed my pen at Colt. “Sucks to be us,” I said, ignoring the rest of his words. “We’ll be back before dark, but remember, I’m not the only one who’ll be sleeping alone tonight. You and I are paddling the same empty boat.” I tucked my pen behind my ear and narrowed my eyes. “Unless you’ve spent these last few weeks reaching a different conclusion than I have.”

  It wasn’t such a far-fetched possibility. While I owned my wilderness business with plenty of clients and nothing but growth on the horizon, Colt hadn’t yet gotten to where he wanted to be.

  Colt finished securing the horses’ saddles and shot me a look across the back of my mount. “What I want hasn’t changed since I was ten years old and we made our pact.”

  I rubbed my chin. “Maybe not, but things haven’t happened in the right order.”

  We were supposed to both be successful business owners, me with the wilderness retreat, Colt with his own ranch. Not that the order of things mattered to me. I believed events came about and fell into place exactly when they were supposed to. Colt, on the other hand, liked things just so. Five yea
rs ago, he’d purchased a hundred-acre spread in a gorgeous valley south of Bridgewater. The land was waiting for him—for us and a bride—to settle on, but that took more cash. And a woman. We needed a house, stable, horses and more. And a woman.

  In the meantime, he was still working as lead foreman for Hawk’s Landing, a guest ranch owned by our friends, Ethan and Matt. He was invaluable to the place; in charge of the vast stables, the maintenance to the property and buildings, the animals, as well as supervising fifty or so non-hospitality employees. He could handle it, being Mr. Stickler that he was, but I liked the wide-open spaces more. I dreaded paperwork and enjoyed sleeping out under the stars as much as my own bed.

  “Things happen exactly in the order they’re supposed to,” he countered. “If I was meant to have my own spread up and running by now, I’d be tending my own horses and we wouldn’t be having this conversation. If our woman was out there already, don’t you think we would have experienced that lightning moment by now?”

  I settled the pack behind the saddle. It had always been said, by my parents as well as Cole’s—hell, almost every married male in Bridgewater—that they knew their bride the minute they laid eyes on her. Like a lightning strike. I’d only been almost struck by actual lightning twice in my career—which wasn’t much of a surprise based on what I did—but never the “love” kind.

  Cole looked over his shoulder at me with a wicked grin. “Besides, I don’t know about you, but I’d hate to live my whole life having missed the chance to laugh as you ride off for a night spent sleeping on the hard ground listening to other people fuck.”

  He guided two horses by their leads toward the newlyweds’ cabin. He might not be going with us, but he was supplying the animals from the stables and needed to make sure the guests were happy before we left him behind for our time in the backcountry.

  Grumbling at the reminder, I took the pack horse’s lead and ambled after him. “You talk a good game, but I’m serious, Colt. This is our time for some real soul-searching. I’m in as much a hurry to experience the lightning strike as you are, but maybe we should hold off another year.”

  He stopped walking so I could catch up. “And do what for that year? Put on blinders so we’re not distracted from our goals by lush tits and a pleasing ass? And what do we do if those blinders mean we don’t see her unless she’s standing right under our noses? It’s not like she’ll know she’s supposed to be looking for two Prince Charmings. Hell.” He ran his hand over his neck again, a sign I knew meant he was frustrated. “Yeah, I wanted my land to be self-sufficient by now, but ranching isn’t some damn corporate ladder. There’s no formula for paying your dues. You think I’m the one who’s got a plan in place, but it’s you who worries about it for both of us. Anyway, you hear all about those poor bastards who get to the top and then look around only to realize they’re standing on that mountain peak all alone. They were so focused on their goals, they missed out on their life.”

  “I stand on those damn mountain peaks as part of my job practically every day. I know a woman isn’t standing beside me, beside us, better than you.”

  He lifted a dark brow at me. “It was an analogy, you fucker. I’m just saying I’m as eager as you to find her.”

  I sighed, continuing on toward the cabin by the creek. “Fuck, sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t have questioned you. I know we’re both of the same mind and in the same place.”

  “Is the same mind having our gorgeous woman naked between us, taking one of our cocks in her mouth, the other in her sweet pussy?” he asked.

  That hot image flashed through my head. “Her breasts will be a perfect handful and that ass, lush and full to grab hold of.”

  “To spank a nice shade of pink.”

  “To train and fuck.”

  “Damn straight.” Colt grinned. “That’s why our wife—the woman who wants everything we just said as much as we do—is going to think we’re gods in the bedroom.”

  “Gods? Nah. We might dominate her in the bedroom, but she’ll have all the power. The minute she realizes we worship at her feet, she’ll know the truth.” We were just men, a pair of cowboys who knew what we wanted and possessed the determination to go after it.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Lacey

  “Oh, here’s a good one. Ahem. ‘Lacey and Chris on the Rocks’. But the best part is the visual. They did this stupid stylized O and made it look like a guitar is splitting the O in half. Hang on, I’m texting you a picture.”

  My phone pinged as my sister delivered on her promise. Tapping the speaker function so I could still talk to her, I pulled up the photo of the tabloid headline and groaned out loud. “Don’t these so-called journalists have any self-respect? This is so bad.”

  “It’s barely even the tip of the iceberg,” she continued, and I could hear papers rustling through the phone. “I have a stack right here, and every one of them is crammed full of frantic exclamation points and question marks. The type is enormous, like World War Three is starting, not an actress going on vacation. I don’t know how long you’re going to be able to hide out before some reporter tracks you down.”

  I stepped out the open back door of the cabin and onto the covered porch. It overlooked the meandering creek that led toward the main lodge. Everything was green, lush. Quiet. Except for the creek, which I listened to all night—at least for the three minutes I stayed awake when I climbed into the plush king-sized bed. It was the best background noise ever. The air was warm now, but the night had been cool. Perfect weather. Heck, perfect everything. No one knew where I was, I had no commitments, no cameras pointed at me. No fans screaming at me. I had a cabin in Montana meant for my sister.

  “Fortunately, everything out here is booked in your name. Thank you again, for all of this,” I told Ann Marie. “I can’t believe you gave up your honeymoon for me.” Deleting the text and the awful headline, I went back inside and crossed the small cabin to gaze through the window that looked out over the valley and Hawk’s Landing Guest Ranch.

  “Oh, don’t even thank me. I should be thanking you. While Mama flipped her lid over me eloping instead of going through with that big fancy to-do she planned, she’ll stop short of actually killing me when I return from Hawaii once she finds out I did it all for you.”

  I shook my head, laughing for the first time in days. Our mother wasn’t the insane woman Ann Marie made her out to be. She wanted her first child to have the perfect wedding and might have gone a little nuts over it, but to me, none of it was as crazy as some things I dealt with. A few extra guests—and a groom’s cake shaped like an armadillo—did not a disaster make. No, a disaster was a supermarket magazine rack full of lies about yourself. I took a deep breath, let it out. I was in Montana where no one could find me. It was too dang pretty to do anything but enjoy the views. I was going to forget about the shit storm waiting for me when I returned to reality and hope the dark hair dye made me a little more incognito.

  “So that’s the story you’re going with?” I asked. “You knew two weeks ago I was going to have a personal breakdown and I’d need a place to hide out for a week? And because of this, you and Gabe decided to hop a flight to Hawaii and get married there in order to free up the rustic retreat for me? You know if you try to run that story by Mama, she’ll demand to know when you’re due.”

  I leaned down to sniff the fuchsia and white flowers in a glass jar. Sweet peas, I thought.

  “Oh crap, you’re right,” Ann Marie replied. “I didn’t even think about her grandbaby fever. Hold on a sec.” My sister’s voice grew distant. “Hey hon, we’re going to have to put in a few more hours of baby-making time to make my mother happy.”

  Gabe rumbled something in the background, followed a moment later by my sister’s breathless squeal and a thud that sounded like the phone being dropped.

  Okay, that couldn’t be any clearer. They might have relocated their honeymoon from this idyllic cabin to Hawaii, but they were still behaving like newlyweds. Fortunately, whe
n I called my sister after being picked up in front of my house—the sex-filled party house—she’d had the perfect place for me to hide out. A week earlier, she and Gabe had eloped to Hawaii, where they were still enjoying an extended honeymoon. Their original trip was supposed to have been at Hawk’s Landing Guest Ranch—my mother’s choice, not my sister’s. Since they’d decided to elope so close to their wedding date, they couldn’t cancel and get a refund from the ranch. Not that it mattered to my brother-in-law, whose number of zeroes put my own to shame. He just wanted my sister to be happy, and if ditching a paid-for wedding and honeymoon in order to escape to a tropical getaway made her happy, then no price was too high.

  Gabe’s indulgent attitude toward my sister worked out in my favor. She’d insisted I take their honeymoon cabin. It was perfect. A quiet place booked under someone else’s name, and not even my assistant knew anything about it. After hearing what had happened, how he’d fucked a blonde groupie in my bed, my sister, bless her, had taken charge of the situation as I tried to recover from my life’s implosion. She’d made arrangements for a rental car, again in her name, and shortly after our conversation ended, I was on my way to Montana.

  It had been less than twenty-four hours since I walked out of my LA house without a word to anybody. In that time, Tessa had sent nearly two hundred messages between the texts, emails and voicemails. Part of me felt bad for leaving her hanging. Another, bigger part—one egged on and enabled by my sister—clung to the fact that Tessa, as nice as she was, was my employee, not the other way around. I didn’t owe her or anybody else details of my whereabouts. Until the next professional engagement, which was two weeks away, my time was just that. Mine. And I wasn’t going to share it with anybody.

  Even if that meant Ann Marie called me first thing stunned by the latest faux news and the claims that Chris had broken things off with me instead of the other way around.