Page 41 of Tempting Wyatt (Triple Creek Ranch #1)

A noise rumbles through his chest. “Don’t go back in there without me, Ivy. Ever. I mean it.”

“You realize I’m a grown adult and I’ve survived the mean streets of LA lots of years all on my own, right?”

His eyes narrow in the darkness. “There are a dozen men in there most nights. They work hard, and they play hard. Sometimes, it gets out of hand. The pack mentality is a powerful thing, and there’s a lot of alcohol flowing. If anything happened to you, I’d. . . ”

I wait. He inhales deeply, as if breathing me in. His hands grip my outer thighs, and I feel him everywhere.

“It wouldn’t be good,” he finishes.

“For what it’s worth, the girl I saw seemed very willing and was there of her own volition.” I wiggle in his arms as we get settled. “For that matter, so was I. Though I promise I didn’t participate in any pool-table shenanigans.”

Outrage colors his voice when he speaks. “There was a girl in—fuck it, never mind.” His hands tighten around my hips. “Exactly how much do you know about pool-table shenanigans?”

“Enough,” I say, wondering how much he knows about pool-table shenanigans. “But it wasn’t like that. I was just going to play poker.”

He makes a growly sound. “In under an hour and another six-pack later, they would have talked you into taking shots and playing strip poker.”

He shows me how to crank the ATV and where the throttle and brakes are.

“Who says I don’t like strip poker?”

“I’ll play cards with you if you feel the need.”

“Strip poker?” I press.

He ignores me. My eyes drift over the parts of him I can see in the dark. His jawline is so perfect that it should be sculpted and on display in a museum.

“Will you let me win?”

His lips quirk up into a half smile, half smirk. “You want me to?”

Hell yes, I do.

My baser instincts threaten to take over. From the minute I first saw this man, he rewired my brain from wounded-breakup settings to desperate desire to practice-procreation mode.

I could turn around right now, ride him right here until he gave me everything I needed.

As if he can read my thoughts, he chuckles darkly. He lets me off without giving him an answer, launching into instructions on how to drive us to my cabin.

The four-wheeler is easier to steer than I expected, and much too soon, we arrive at our destination. He shuts off the engine and climbs off. The back of me misses his body heat immediately.

Wyatt Logan confuses me, but he also makes me feel protected. Safe.

Wanted.

He helps me off the ATV, surprising me when he doesn’t let go of my hand once I’m securely on the ground.

“Sorry if I interrupted your party at the bunkhouse,” he says gently. “But I know too much about those guys to trust them with you.”

My eyes meet his. “Yeah? And how much do you know about what goes on there? Ever participate in any pool-table parties?”

His gaze darkens, deepens, pulls me down into the depths, where I can’t reach the bottom anymore.

“I have a sister the same age as most of those girls, so, hell no, I don’t participate. But I have walked in on a few and been the one to give those girls rides home occasionally when Antonio wasn’t available.”

Inhaling the intoxicating woodsy scent of him, I try to control my thoughts. And my jealousy.

“And what happens on those rides home?”

He rubs a hand over his bearded jaw. “It’s been a while, but nothing like what your dirty mind is imagining, Hollywood. I usually do the same thing I’m doing now. Try to talk them out of ever going back there.”

“And how does that work out?”

His shoulders lower. “Guess.”

“They go back?”

He nods. “Every time. Even the ones who swear they won’t, that they never do anything like that.”

“Ah, to be young,” I say, repeating the bartender’s words from the other night to lighten the mood.

“I’m only going to say this once more, Hollywood. Do not let me catch you in that bunkhouse again.”

I grin up at him. “Okay, rancher. I won’t let you catch me.”

His frown is so pronounced, I laugh out loud as I brush against his shoulder playfully.

He shakes his head. “What are your plans for later tonight?”

I pretend to think it over. “Undecided. Probably head back down to the bunkhouse and—”

“Ivy, I swear to God, I will tie your ass up in this cabin.”

I can’t help but laugh at his anger. “Fine. If you promise to tie me up, I promise not to go back down there.”

He freezes, glares down at me. Then his gaze turns inquisitive. “You’re joking, right?”

I bite my lower lip. “Do you want me to be?”

The energy between us changes, thickens, charged with tension. Pullings us closer together by some invisible force neither of us can control.

His huge hands skim down my arms. His long, fingers encircle my much smaller wrist. “Have you ever been restrained? For pleasure, I mean.”

The cool evening air doesn’t do a thing to keep my body temperature from rising to a dangerous level.

“I haven’t,” I admit. “But I’ve watched some videos that always made me wonder if I’d like it.”

His chest rises and falls much faster than before. “You’d like it if the person doing it did it correctly.”

“And you know how to do it correctly?”

“I do.” He says the words with all the solemnity of a wedding vow, those dark, tempting eyes never leaving mine.

I try not to imagine him tying up and pleasuring other women. But he’s so freaking huge and powerful. Even imagining it turns me on. As long as the women in my fantasy are faceless . . . or me.

I’m beginning to wonder if this insanely strong pull between us is how I ended up here to begin with.

I never in my life considered going to Montana, and yet here I am. As if some unknown force brought me here.

“Do you ever think about fate?”

Wyatt stares intently for a moment. “I don’t suppose so. Why?”

I inhale the courage I need. “I wasn’t planning to come here. I’d never even heard of this place. But as soon as I arrived, I felt like I was where I’m meant to be.”

Wyatt’s lips quirk. “If fate is what brought you here to me, then yeah, I think about it every damn day.”

“Thanking your lucky stars?”

He chuckles darkly. “Something like that. But the next time I find fate leading you toward the bunkhouse, when I clearly said go to the main house and eat dinner, we’re going to have a problem.”

“Ooh. What kind of problem?”

He shakes his head. “The kind can only be resolved by me spanking that perfect ass of yours.”

My knees go weak and I’m about to say, “yes, please,” when his phone vibrates in his pocket, breaking the tension between us.

Sighing, he pulls it out and reads the screen. “Text from Antonio. Looks like I’ve still got a few more things to check on before I can call it a night.”

“Bummer,” I say, teasing but also meaning it. Because I want more time with him. And time seems to be the one thing he never has enough of.

Trying hard not to let my disappointment show, I turn toward my door.

“Hey,” he says, pulling me back firmly by the crook of my elbow. “They burned more of the pasture earlier. If the wind kicks up, it could still blow smoke in this direction.”

I arch a brow at him. Currently, there’s not so much as a light breeze. “Okay. I’ll keep the windows closed so I don’t have another freak-out on you.”

His forehead creases, and he lowers his face to mine. “Yeah, your childhood trauma was a real inconvenience. How about you stay at my place tonight, just in case? Pretty sure some of your stuff is still there.”

I stare up at him. He’s not the same man he was when I first arrived. He wanted me gone then. I saw it all over him. And my traumatic childhood did, in fact, condition me to be hyper-aware of when I wasn’t wanted. Now he’s inviting me to sleep at his place.

“I need to grab some more of my stuff if we’re having a sleepover.”

His lips twitch as he jerks his chin toward the door. “Let’s grab your stuff then.”

I start to head into the cabin, but he pulls me to him once again.

His lips graze mine. “I can’t promise there’s going to be any sleep on this sleepover, baby. Finding you in that bunkhouse has me all kinds of twisted up.”

I smile against his mouth. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re very, very sexy when you’re jealous?”

His eyes darken as they meet mine. “I’ve never been jealous before today, so no one else has ever seen it.”

Oh.

Oh.

At this information, something inside of me—some secret piece I keep on lockdown and always have—takes off into the sky, soaring out of my chest and into the clouds.

“Wyatt,” I breathe against his mouth, “tell me what that means. Use your big-boy words, pretty please, because I want us to be on the same page here.”

Don’t let me fall if you aren’t going to catch me.

I won’t survive it.

“It means you are going to promise me you won’t go back down to the bunkhouse alone. Ever.”

I get lost in the depths of his eyes or maybe it’s the porch light reflecting in them. “I doubt I’ll be invited back since their boss broke up the fun.”

“Promise me,” he says once more. “And mean it.”

Some defiant part of me wants to remind him that I’m a paying guest and there was nothing in the rental agreement about the bunkhouse being off-limits. I decide to make a demand of my own instead.

“Promise me you won’t take any more of those girls home,” I say softly. “And mean it,” I add in a tone matching his.

Antonio can manage.

A smile teases his lips. “Promise.”

I tilt my head to gauge if he’s being truthful. He looks like he means it.

“Okay then, I promise too. It was kind of smelly and gross in there anyway.”

He huffs out a relieved breath.

I turn to go inside, and he shocks me by slapping my ass. Hard.

“Get your stuff, Hollywood.”

“Yes, sir.”