The Bad Boy’s Bride Read online

  6

  Rachel

  I have to hand it to my husband; he draws a hell of a bath.

  This entire day has turned my world upside down, and after last week, I honestly didn’t think that my world could be flipped any more than it already was.

  The ranch is so much bigger—and so much more beautiful—than I thought it would be. The resort side of it is incredible. This would be a hell of a place to take a vacation. I guess that’s kind of what I’m doing, though I honestly don’t have any plans right now.

  After walking out of the kitchen two days ago, I didn’t know what to do. This seemed like the only logical choice, and yet I don’t know what I’m doing here. It’s strange that this place belonged to my grandmother—a woman that I never knew.

  There wasn’t ever a time that I heard a good word about my father from my mother. But this place … it is hard to imagine that someone so bad could build something this successful and this beautiful. And more than that, everyone that I’ve encountered both while we were riding and before seems to love Clayton.

  There are no signs of resentment or even apathy. Only wide smiles and open greetings. They treat him with the kind of respect that I could only dream of in the workplace. It’s the kind of respect that Solomon should have given me, no matter what rank I was in the kitchen.

  What would Clayton’s employees think of me? Would they give me the same respect that they gave him because I am his wife? Does he want anyone to know that we are married? I don’t know how much people here know about what’s happening between us. It makes me realize how little I actually know about Clayton. Is he the kind of man that is honest about everything? Even the fact that he had to marry a stranger in order to keep the ranch? Or is he the kind of man that wouldn’t feel it was anyone’s business, and just let everyone think that the ranch passed directly to him without any trouble?

  I’m not sure. But I am sure that I will find out soon.

  Sinking deep into the water, I can’t stop the moan that slips from my lips. Damn, I hurt. Everyone makes horseback riding look so easy. So why does it feel like my hips and the insides of my thighs are shattering every time I move? Geeze.

  And okay, maybe having sex wasn’t the best idea for that reason, but like hell am I going to complain about having the best sex of my life. It happened so fast, and I don’t regret it for a second. Watching him ride, the absolute control that he had over the horse, I wanted to be closer to him. Just like I’d been dreaming about and fantasizing about since the moment he walked out the door the day we got married.

  Honestly, I didn’t know that my legs would give out. But the second he picked me up, I knew that I never wanted to leave his arms. Holy shit, that man’s body. It’s a playground that I want to explore again.

  Clayton has muscles on top of muscles from a life of working outdoors. From sweat and sunshine and effort. And I felt every inch of that strong body against me when he had me pinned to the bed.

  The chemistry between us is utterly undeniable. Impossible. I wasn’t completely aware of what was happening, and neither was he. It was primal in a way that I’d never experienced before. And I want more. Clayton completely and thoroughly fucked me. There is no other word for it. He fucked me exactly like I’d challenged him to.

  I can still feel his hand on my throat, warning me not to move as he took exactly what he wanted. The bite on my shoulder will bruise, and I like knowing that it will. A small reminder of what was between us, no matter how short.

  The question is, will it happen again?

  Do I want it to? Absolutely. Does he? I…don’t know.

  I imagine going to sleep in that guest bedroom with him so close by, and I’m already wet just thinking about the possibilities. Who would have thought that I’d be so attracted to my husband?

  Fuck, it’s all so confusing. Last week I didn’t know who he was, and now I’m not sure that I ever want to be away from him, which is terrifying to think about, given that I barely know the man.

  But don’t I? He begged me to save this place. Because he loves it. And the people here love him. Deep down, I already know that he is a good man. And if I let myself look inside even for a second, I can see that something deep in me is drawn to him. Like two magnets that are exactly tuned to the other.

  Slowly as I soak in the hot water, my muscles ease, and the pain lessens a little. God, how long has it been since I had a bath? I can’t remember a time when I just let myself have a little luxury. That was culinary life. It was hard. It was a grind. I loved it, but there is definitely something to be said for slowing down and breathing.

  Rocking R Ranch is a place for that. Everything is…perfect. From the husband who is far more than just a brooding cowboy, to the wide-open skies and perfect views. There’s something that is calling to my soul and telling me that I can be happy here.

  What would have happened if I hadn’t listened to Clayton and Katie and just made the decision to sell the ranch? The thought makes me sick to my stomach. If I had done that, effectively destroyed this place, and then discovered after how wonderful it is, I never would have forgiven myself.

  Even if nothing more happens between Clayton and me—my stomach tightens at the possibility of never feeling his cock or his body again—the sacrifice would be worth it to save this place.

  But what happens later? If Clayton and I aren’t together…there’s no more family. Or what if we have children with other people? Would the ranch go to his children or to mine? The thought unsettles me, and I push it out of my mind until I’m thinking about nothing but the perfect water, the light scent of lavender and how lovely all of this is.

  I drift, barely realizing how tired I am until the bath is nearly cold. I need a nap. Pain ripples in my thighs as I stand, but my legs hold me as I wrap myself in a towel and drain the tub. It doesn’t feel right to sleep in his bed. Not when I have no idea where we stand. Instead I move down the hallway to the bedroom where he first carried me, stretch out onto the clean sheets and drift into a perfect, exhausted sleep.

  7

  Clayton

  I have to get out of the house. There is no way that I have the self-control to watch Rachel soaking naked in my tub. I know that if I stay, I will haul her back out of it in record time and drag her back to the bed because fuck. I already want more of her. Thankfully there’s a whole ranch out my front door that needs my attention.

  Through all the chores and taking the horses back across the ranch to the stable, I’ve been half-hard. I obviously didn’t shower, so her cinnamon scent is still on me, in my nose, in my thoughts.

  I throw myself into tasks to keep myself away from the house. The stables—we have five of them—need new coats of paint. And I spend my afternoon making sure that those walls are vibrant. I don’t finish them all—there is too much surface area for that—but I make a good dent. And handling the tall rollers gives my shoulders a good workout.

  The sun is starting to set when my stomach growls. Has Rachel eaten? There’s some food in my fridge, but I mainly eat in the staff dining hall. She probably doesn’t even know where that is.

  A surge of guilt pinches my stomach. I needed some space away from her, but I’ve also essentially trapped her in my house. I don’t doubt that Rachel is bold enough to take what she wants, but there is also something soft and vulnerable about her. Something that appeals to me, and that I want to dig deeper into and explore.

  On the way back to my house, I stop by the main lodge to talk with Jenna, the woman who runs check-ins and the concierge services for the resort. She smiles when I come in. “Hey, Clayton.”

  “Hey,” I say. “There’s a woman who arrived earlier today. Did she have luggage?” She didn’t have any suitcases when she met me at the barn, but I find it hard to believe that she’d show up here without any luggage at a ll.

  “Sure did,” she says with a smile. “I was wondering when she was going to come back for it.”

  “I’ll take it.”

 
; Jenna grins. “Is she who I think she is?”

  I fight not to roll my eyes. When there was first a problem with the will, I called a staff meeting and told everyone about it. I didn’t have much information at the time, but I wasn’t about to go into a meeting blind and then come back with news that they were all being evicted and losing their jobs.

  But that also meant that when I came back, I had to tell them that they were safe…and why.

  I’d gotten some good-natured teasing about my stranger wife from people, but all in all, it wasn’t too bad. They were grateful that I’d been willing to do that to ensure security for the ranch, and grateful to Rachel—though they didn’t know her—for being willing to let the ranch stay in my hands.

  I admitted privately to Jenna what happened. She is the only one that knows everything, but the rest know enough. So when Rachel showed up asking for me, I’m not surprised that Jenna jumped to the correct conclusion. Everyone else we encountered on our ride probably thought she was a guest or just a visitor. But Jenna knows better.

  I smile with closed lips. “Yeah.”

  Her grin is so wide I’m worried that it’s going to split open her face. “That’s so exciting! She seems really nice. Why is she here?”

  Sighing, I say, “We haven’t really gotten that far yet.”

  “Gotcha.” A conspiratorial wink.

  I shake my head. “Please don’t spread it around. This is strange enough as it is without having an audience.”

  Her face grows serious. “Of course, Clayton. I just want to see you happy.”

  “And you think that my fake wife is the way for that to happen?” I raise an eyebrow.

  She shrugs. “Maybe.”

  I laugh in spite of myself. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Jenna wheels out a large suitcase and hands me a messenger bag from behind the desk. Not bad. “You want a cart?”

  “I got it,” I say, shaking my head. The suitcase isn’t that heavy to begin with, and there are maintained paths between the main house and Roscoe House.

  Jenna shoots one last knowing glance at me as I head out with Rachel’s luggage, and I pick up the debate again about food. Do I want to tell her where the staff hall is? Is that what she is? Staff? What else would she be?

  The image of her beneath me, lost in her orgasm as I plowed into her, fills my mind, and I shiver even though the evening is warm. That same unbridled lust takes hold of me. I want that all the time. Forever. I don’t have to know the ins and outs of her to know that something deep down in my soul recognizes this woman as mine. And that’s what I want.

  I want her to be my wife. Not by a half-measure or dancing around each other. My actual wife.

  A future spins out in my head. Rachel staying here on the ranch with me, starting a true family so that the ranch will be passed down for even more generations. Outgrowing Roscoe House and building a new one out on the bluff that overlooks the entire property. And in that vision there’s so much of her. Of her wild hair and her smile and nights filled with panting and desperate passion.

  My beautiful wife.

  But is that something that she wants? I still don’t know why she’s really here. I don’t quite buy the reasoning that she’s here on a vacation. It doesn’t add up. But I’m hesitant to ask. I don’t want that vision in my head to shatter.

  But at the same time, if it’s going to fall to pieces, it’s better that it does it sooner rather than later, so I don’t have to grieve it.

  The house is quiet, and the guest room door is shut. I leave her suitcase and bag by her door and head into my bedroom for a shower. The bed is still a mess, and Rachel’s clothes are still scattered across the floor. So she’s definitely here. Is she all right?

  I rush through a shower, tossing on new clothes that aren’t drenched in sweat and smeared with paint. When I step into the hallway, her bags are still by the door.

  Knocking softly, I don’t hear anything. There’s an unsettled panic in my gut, and I open the door to make sure that she’s all right.

  She’s there all right, sprawled across the bed in nothing but a towel, asleep. I lose my grip on the door at the sight, and my hand keeps going, bumping into the wall. Rachel startles awake, sitting up and gasping, and then groaning. Her face contorts in pain. “Fuck.”

  I chuckle even though I’m sure she doesn’t find it remotely funny. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

  She blinks. “What time is it?”

  “Dinner time.”

  “Shit, I didn’t mean to sleep that long.”

  I fight off my grin, loving the idea that I fucked her into exhaustion. “Lay back down,” I tell her. “I’ll help you with the stiffness.”

  Slipping back into my room for a moment, I grab the small tub of salve that I use for aches and pains. It’s menthol and goes deep. It’ll help her get moving again, especially after today. On gut instinct, I take off the t-shirt that I’d put on, and toss it on the bed.

  When I get back to her room, she’s lying face down under the towel, head tucked into her pillow. I could get lost in the way her hair is flying across the sheets and across her back.

  She feels the bed shift when I sit next to her. “Is it always this painful?”

  “For first timers, yes. It gets better though as your muscles get used to it.”

  Rachel laughs, voice muffled by the pillow. “Sounds a little bit like losing your virginity.”

  That makes me truly laugh, the sound echoing off the walls. “Yeah, I guess so.” I unscrew the cap of the jar. “This morning everything was fast, and I know that we have a lot to talk about. I want to make sure that everything between us is what you want. This is a cream that will help with the pain, but I’ll have to touch you.”

  She stiffens, but doesn’t lift her head. My hand is practically aching with the need to reach out and stroke down her legs, but I don’t move. Finally she turns her head toward me, mouth visible below the mane of hair. “Do you want to touch me?”

  “Very much,” I say. There’s no hiding the rawness in my voice.

  Rachel lets out a shuddering breath. “Good. Touch away.”

  I start gently with the back of her legs, dabbing on the cream and smoothing the skin and digging into the muscles . I slowly move up to the edge of the towel, and even though I’ve already seen her perfect ass, I want to see more. I want to see everything.

  Rubbing my hands between her thighs, I work the muscles there, knowing that those will be the sorest. I try and fail to ignore the heat coming from her pussy. We need to take this slow.

  “You all right with me moving the towel?”

  She doesn’t answer me, instead she pulls it off herself and tosses it off the bed. Slowly, so slowly, I massage her ass, watching her breath deepen and listening to her groan as I work in the cream and hit the sore spots.

  Rachel’s hands dig into the comforter, and I’d much rather they be grabbing the sheets for an entirely different reason. Up her back, stroking my fingers along her ribs and up to her neck where I brush her hair away. I’m almost stretched out completely over her again, just like this morning.

  I dip my head down so I can whisper in her ear. “I wanted you like this the first time you walked through that conference room door. You were an absolute force of nature, and nothing like what I expected.”

  With a moan, Rachel twists beneath me and pulls me down to kiss her. A hot, open kiss that has my blood roaring in my veins. Again I feel that urge to consume her, to take her. But this delicate thing between us needs more gentleness than that.

  She’s reaching down between us and undoing my belt. I whisper the words against her cheek. “We did hard and fast; now we’re going to go long and slow. And then, we’re going to talk a little.”

  Rachel’s eyes flare with need. “Okay.”

  “Okay.”

  So I sink down her body and start my plan to make every part of this woman mine.

  8

  Rachel

  I’m so turned
on that I’m convinced I might spontaneously combust. Clayton hovers above me for a moment, those blue eyes piercing mine. His hair is still wet from a shower, body still warm. The way he’s draped over me I can see straight down the line of his body to where his cock is peeking out of his jeans where I unbuckled them. Past hard lines and curves of muscles.

  And then I can’t see that glorious sight anymore because his mouth is sealed against my skin, blazing a trail south with earnest attention. Just as he promised…

  Something in the tone of his voice hypnotized me. His confidence ignited a fire in my body. Using his tongue, Clayton teases one nipple. It’s already hard, and goosebumps spread out from his touch. “I love these,” he murmurs. “The exact same shade as your lips.”

  “Can’t say I’ve noticed,” I gasp out as he seals his mouth over it and sucks my breast halfway into his mouth. Oh, damn. I’m arching up into him and he switches to my other breast. Agonizingly slowly, he circles the tip of his tongue around my nipple, again and again until I’m hissing, it’s so sensitive. He moves back and forth between my breasts until I’m writhing underneath him. I want faster and harder. More. But he’s already determined the pace we’re moving at, and I know that he won’t budge.

  Clayton drags his tongue down my ribs, and I can’t help but giggle. It tickles me. “Shh…” he reprimands me, and then comes up to press his mouth against mine, silencing me. His kiss is hot and urgent. Despite his promise to go slow, I know he’s holding back. As our tongues tangle, he plays with my nipples again, and although I’ve never come just from that before, I feel my pussy getting wetter and an orgasm creeping into sight. My hips are moving on their own, trying to find friction against his rough denim. His hand slides down my tummy, so, so slowly, until he’s hovering just above my pussy. I arch up, just a bit, and make contact with his hand. He slides a finger up and down my seam, not separating my lips, but I’m so wet I know he feels it. He drags his fingers over me, with just a bit of pressure, and I want more.