Page 7

"We can't just..." I wave my hands around, trying to articulate the problem. "I mean, there are professional boundaries. Ethical considerations. This is completely inappropriate. Besides, what happened to the little boy?"

The reason for the abrupt ending to our little coat room rendezvous dawning on me.

"Found him within an hour. Cold but fine.”

I nod. “Good. People die out in the elements all the time, especially kids.”

“That is true Marley Voss, but you don’t have to worry about that. I will take good care of you.” He steps closer, close enough that I have to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact.

“Okay, just as long as we keep things professional. I booked this for research, not romance.”

“Ah, of course. So, last night you came all over my hand, begging me not to stop. This morning you want to talk about professional boundaries?"

"That was different!"

"How?"

"Because last night I didn't know you were going to be my instructor!" The words burst out of me, way too loud for the small space.

"Because from where I'm standing, the only thing that's changed is now you know my name."

I open my mouth to argue, but he's already moving, walking around the counter to flip the sign on the front door from "Open" to "Back in 15 Minutes. Or an hour. Or tomorrow."

"What are you doing?"

"Making sure we're not interrupted while we sort this out." The lock clicks into place, and suddenly the walls feel like they are pushing inward, and those thoughts about maybe he’s a serial killer come flooding back.

"There's nothing to sort out," I say, backing up until I hit a display of hiking boots knocking a pair of black leather boots to the floor with a thud. "This is a professional arrangement. Three days of wilderness instruction. That's it."

"Uh-huh." He stalks toward me with those eyes eating me bite by bite as he approaches. "And you think you can spend three days and two nights alone in the wilderness with me, and keep things professional? Or, maybe I should ask your pussy instead."

The question wiggles down into my belly, loaded with implications that make my pulse hammer against my throat.

"Yes. I can keep things professional," I say, straightening my spine but even I can hear how unconvincing I sound.

"Liar." He stops directly in front of me, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from his body.

"Your pupils are dilated. Your breathing's shallow.

And I'd bet money that if I put my hand between your legs right now, you're flowing about as hard as my brother Jack's river during spring thaw. "

What did he just say to me?

"That's..." I swallow hard, trying to ignore the fact that his assessment is correct, if not a bit dramatic. "That's completely inappropriate."

My voice is breathy, my lungs burning like I’ve just run a marathon.

"So is the way you keep looking at my mouth."

Shit. He's right about that too.

"This is insane," I whisper. "It was the champagne’s fault. We barely know each other."

"I know plenty." His hand comes up to cup my jaw, thumb brushing across my lower lip in a gesture that's becoming familiar.

"I know you're brilliant and brave and completely out of your element.

I know you respond to me telling you what to do and when to do it.

And I know that what happened between us last night wasn't some champagne-fueled mistake you're going to forget about. Am I right? And, don’t lie. I’ll know. "

"It wasn't," I admit sure he’s telling the spot on truth about the lying thing. .

"Good." His thumb presses my lip into my bottom teeth, and I have to fight the urge to suck it into my mouth. "Because I meant what I said. You're mine. Three days in the wilderness is just going to make that more obvious."

"This is crazy," I breathe, but I don't pull away from his touch.

"You said that already and you’re probably right." His mouth curves in a smile that's equal parts dangerous and devastating. "You worried you can't handle a little crazy?"

The challenge in his voice sparks something defiant in my chest. I've been handling advanced coursework since I was seven years old. I've been managing academic pressure and social awkwardness and being the youngest person in every room for as long as I can remember.

I can handle one wilderness survival instructor, no matter how he makes me feel.

"I can handle it," I hiss, lifting my chin.

"We'll see." He steps back, putting distance between us that feels both like relief and loss. Then his eyes sharpen. "Speaking of handling things... you put your credit card number down for your deposit."

I blink at the sudden shift. "Yes? Is that a problem?"

"New policy. Cash only. Or the barter system." His voice has gone darker, more dangerous.

"I... Um… I don't have that much cash on me," I say, confused.

"Good girl," he says, the words sending little sparks of pure dopamine flowing through my veins. He moves closer again, backing me against the display until I'm trapped between hiking boots and his large frame. “Barter it is then.”

My breath catches. "I... don’t have anything to barter with."

"Oh, baby, you have plenty, trust me. But just for the deposit?" His hand comes up to trace my jawline. "It's between your legs. And I'm going to collect it with my tongue."

“No, wait…” Heat floods through me so fast I actually sway on my feet. " Here ? Now?"

My voice sounds a little too eager, even to me. The cascade of pleasure from his fingers last night overriding everything else in my practical decision-making centers.

He grins. "Right here. Right now. Unless your pussy's going to start spitting out hundred-dollar bills. In which case, I'll still be collecting them with my mouth."

I should protest. This is totally inappropriate.

Probably sexual harassment. I should pull out my phone and call the cops, call my parents, transfer money, find an ATM.

.. Do anything except stand here with my heart hammering and my muscles clenching wondering how a tongue feels lapping up hundred-dollar bills from between my legs.

"I—I don't think..."

"Good girl, time for you to stop thinking." His hands are already at my waist, pushing me back against a shelf full of folded flannel shirts. "Spread your legs for me, Marley."

"Someone could see," I protest weakly, as I meet each of his forward steps with my backwards ones.

"Door's locked. Sign's flipped. If they see, I’ll take their eyes out later.

No one gets to see you like this but me.

" He works at the button of my hiking pants, his movements efficient and sure.

"And I need my payment. When you come on my mouth, we have a deal.

You're gonna pay me with your pleasure, baby. "

His hands are rough and sure as he peels my hiking pants and underwear down my legs, crouching down to lift one of my feet onto his knee, unlacing my boot, then tugging it off, then moving to the other and doing the same.

He finishes with pulling my pants and underwear off my feet, leaving me naked from the waist down except my new wood moisture wicking hiking socks.

He then spins me around to face the wall next to the sea of flannel. "Hands flat against the wall, baby girl. Feet apart. It's important when we're on the mountain, you do exactly as I say, when I say. It's life or death out there, baby, so let's practice, see if you can do as you're told."

I press my palms against the cool surface, my heart hammering as heavy hands tug at my hips, arching my back, putting me into position as I ease my feet apart.

"Look at you, such a good girl for Daddy. Little wider," he murmurs, his voice rough as I feel the bump of his boot against the insides of my feet. "There we go, perfect. Now, push that ass to the sky baby, open up, I'm going lick my deposit out of that sweet little cherry pie of yours.”

"This is insane," I breathe.

"This is business." I feel him drop to his knees behind me, calloused hands scraping down my outer thighs.

When his mouth makes contact, I bite down on my lip to keep from screaming. He isn't gentle, isn't tentative. He knows exactly what he's doing, and he does it with the same focused intensity he brings to everything else.

"Oh God," I gasp, my back arching against the wall.

"That's right, little girl. Pay up."

He works me with his tongue until I'm shaking, my palms pressed flat against the wall, completely lost to everything except the pleasure he's giving me. When I come, it's with his name on my lips and my legs trembling.

I hear him stand up behind me, as I reach down to pull my pants and underwear back up, his palm comes down in a sharp slap against my pussy.

“Did I tell you to get dressed?”

“Ow, Jesus, that stings.”

“It’s supposed to. You stand there like that until I tell you otherwise. I like a little eye candy while I finish getting this organized.” He lands another hard slap toward the front, sending an explosion of pain outward from my throbbing clit.

“You taking this little girl, Daddy thing a little far.” I fuss but my body responds with a new rush of wetness.

“I’ll decide what’s too far, baby. You just do whatever it takes to be a good girl.” His voice is low, but sticky sweet and I hate that I so desperately want to hear him call me that.

“I’ll be sure to put that in my thesis.” I roll my eyes as I tug back a smile, arching my back and pushing my rear end upward.

"You'll stay good and wet for me all fucking day," he says, his voice rough as his hand lands another swat, harder this time as I draw a sharp breath, working through how the pain has me on the verge of another orgasm.

My eyes are stinging with unshed tears. I blink them away. “Yes,” I agree, wondering why it feels so good to give this almost complete stranger so much control.

I stand with my arms braced on the wall, cool air ticking at my bare flesh as he moves around behind me, going into the back room, then out again, opening a cabinet, stacking things by the front door.

After a while, my mind starts to settle.

A warm calmness blankets me as I stand there on display, secretly celebrating every time he tells me what a good girl I am for doing as I’m told.

"Consider your deposit paid in full," he finally says, “You can get dressed now.”

On a hard swallow, I reach down and pull up my panties and pants, sit down on the floor and put on my boots while he watches, arms crossed, reaching down to adjust what looks like a small baseball bat running down the inside of his thigh. “Now let's talk about those rules."

The sudden shift from intimate to professional should give me whiplash. Instead, it sends a thrill through me that I definitely shouldn't be feeling.

"Rule number one" he continues, turning to grab a large backpack from behind the counter. "You eat what I give you, when I give it to you. Same with drinking. Unless you are allergic to something you didn’t put on your medical history form."

"I'm not that small," I protest automatically.

He looks me up and down in a way that makes me feel very aware of exactly how much smaller I am than him. "You're tiny, little girl. And that's not changing in the next three days."

The endearment hits me like a physical touch, and I have to press my thighs together against the sudden ache between them.

"Next rule," he says, either oblivious to my reaction or choosing to ignore it. "You sleep where I tell you. Body heat's not optional at this altitude."

"That sounds like a convenient excuse," I manage.

"Not an excuse, baby. Everything I do for the next three days is about keeping you safe." His eyes meet mine, and there's something in them that makes my breath catch. "Even if you don't understand it at the time."

He's talking about wilderness survival. I know he's talking about wilderness survival. But the way he says it, the authority in his voice, makes it sound like a promise of something much more personal.

He goes on, stay with me at all times, if you hurt yourself, you tell me no matter how insignificant it may seem, if you see a bear or a snake before I do, tell me, etc.

I’m so not in Kansas anymore.

"Any questions?" he finally asks, cupping my cheeks in his massive palms.

About a thousand, but none I can ask without admitting how much his rules are affecting me.

"Just one," I say. "Are you always this bossy with your clients?"

His smile is slow and predatory. "Sometimes, but it’s never been this much fun."