The Expert's Guide to Driving a Man Wild by Jessica Clare
“Go on,” she coaxed gently. “What happened with her?”
“When we first got married, she was happy as could be. We were both going to college—I majored in business, and she majored in economics. We were very normal. And then for her twenty-first birthday, a friend took her bungee jumping. We thought it would be funny but harmless, something to laugh about afterward. I didn’t realize it was going to change everything.”
“How so?”
“Heather loved it. She loved it so much she went again the next weekend. And then after that, she went parachuting. And then extreme caving. Rappelling down sheer cliffs. And anything else that she could find within a decent drive from our apartment. And then she started doing stuff that involved longer than day trips. Scuba-diving with sharks in the Great Barrier Reef, rhino hunting in Africa, whatever she wanted to do that she could think of. Didn’t matter if it was illegal or not, as long as she got a rush out of it. She was addicted to the adrenaline high, and it changed her. If she wasn’t home, she was away on a thrill-seeking trip. And if she wasn’t on a thrill-seeking trip, she was . . .” His voice trailed off and he swallowed hard. “. . . thrill-seeking here.”
Brenna shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
“She brought home strangers because it excited her, and when I got upset, she promised she’d stop. And then she just met them at clubs. Two or three at a time, it didn’t matter. Part of the excitement was the forbidden. I was pretty sure she was into drugs at some point, too. Not because she wanted them, but just for the high. After a while, she thought everything was boring—me included.”
Brenna said nothing but simply rubbed his neck and let him keep talking.
“It got out of control and our marriage became miserable fast. I still loved her, but it was obvious that I wasn’t enough for her anymore. Her trips got longer and more dangerous. It wouldn’t matter if I told her no or that I worried about her. She just needed that next ‘thrill’ fix.” His hand clenched tight in hers, clearly struggling with his thoughts.
“What happened?” Brenna asked gently.
“She died, of course.” Grant’s words were bitter with resentment. “Even though she had asthma, she got it in her head that she should climb Mount Everest. It doesn’t matter that people have died repeatedly doing it. Someone told her that it was the biggest thrill you could undertake, and that was all Heather needed to know. She signed up to climb to the summit, and she declined an oxygen tank. It’d be more daring, she decided, if she went without one, and if it was more daring, it’d mean more to her. And those bastards who were supposed to be her guides let her do it. She died without ever reaching the summit.”
Oh no. Brenna felt a sick clench in her stomach. “I’m sorry.”
“What’s the worst is that it was preventable. She didn’t have to die. She could have put on an oxygen tank, but no one stopped her. We just all let her do whatever she wanted, because she was lively and fun and determined and so full of life that you never thought anything bad would happen to her.” His mouth twisted bitterly. “I’m told that when she died, there were seven other people hiking to the summit, and that they all stood by and watched her collapse and die without helping her. Because helping her would have meant that they’d have to give up their chance at going to the top of the mountain, and they wanted that more than anything. She died surrounded by even more adrenaline junkies. And you know what I can’t stop thinking about?”
“No, what?” Her words were achingly soft.
“It’s not safe to pull bodies down from Mount Everest. The air’s so thin that helicopters can’t fly, and it’s too risky for rescuers to drag the dead down. So they just . . . sit there. In the snow. Her body’s still up there, somewhere. And everyone else who climbs the mountain just walks past it to get to the summit, because they need that fix, too. And meanwhile, I wasn’t able to bury my wife because her thrill-seeking was more important to her than marriage.”
Brenna said nothing for a long moment. There was so much self-loathing and self-hate in Grant’s words that she wasn’t entirely sure how to process it at first. Then, she gently asked, “So why do you blame yourself?”
“Because I didn’t stop her. I didn’t put my foot down when she started putting herself in danger. Because I loved her and thought that she’d have enough common sense not to get into dangerous situations. Because I didn’t tell her no. Because I cared for her and supported her even when she started sleeping around and doing drugs. Because I thought if I was patient, she’d grow out of the phase and we could go back to being just us again.” He sighed heavily. “And because I wasn’t exciting enough for her. I always wondered if I could have done more to make her happy.”
“So you feel guilty?”
“I should, shouldn’t I?” Grant’s mouth twisted angrily. “But I mostly feel resentment toward her. She destroyed both of our lives, all because she needed some kind of fucking rush. That I wasn’t enough to make her happy, and she fucked up my life, too. I think any love I had for her or her memory has been destroyed by resentment.”
“Oh, Grant,” Brenna whispered, her heart aching for him. “It wasn’t you. It was never you. She was just looking for something that she didn’t have inside herself. That’s all.”
His fingers laced with hers, still clutching her tight, as if he were afraid to let go of her. His gaze locked on their twined fingers. “So now you know why I seem a bit anal-retentive about things. Why I like order and schedules and precautions. Because those are what keep you safe.”
And it was why he didn’t want her going out in the rain on an ATV to chase after someone. Not because he was afraid she’d hurt herself—but that she’d get addicted to the rush that came with being in danger, and then he’d lose her, too. Brenna’s heart softened and she pulled him against her, cradling his dark head against her neck. He was stiff against her for a moment, and then relaxed, his arms wrapping around her waist.
Brenna’s thoughts were in turmoil. Grant had always seemed like he was so together, so in control. In reality? He seemed just as broken as she was. He just hid it even better than she did. Every day that she was with him, she found out he was more like her than she’d ever imagined possible.
Her hand rubbed his big shoulders, his skin warm. “Why don’t you take a shower, baby? You’ll feel better.”
But he didn’t move, though she felt his mouth press against her neck. “Take one with me?”
She nodded and wriggled out of his grasp, getting to her feet. “We need to get out of these wet clothes first.”
A half smile crooked his mouth, almost wistful in its sadness. “Why does that sound like a pick-up line?”
“Because it is one? Now hush and let my fingers do the talking.” She unbuckled his belt and pushed it aside, then went for his zipper. Her fingers rubbed up and down his groin as she slowly moved the zipper down, and she heard his swift intake of breath that told her he was paying quite a bit of attention to what she was doing. With a wickedly happy purr that she could turn him on so quickly, Brenna tugged at his damp clothes until they fell to his ankles, and leaned in and gave a kiss to his stiffening cock, then flicked him with her tongue.
He groaned, his hands going to her damp hair. “You’re still dressed.”
“Don’t worry,” she told him. “I plan on fixing that right away.” And she stood up and shimmied out of her top, then peeled her wet jeans down her legs. Excitement was coursing through her, but more than that, she wanted to distract Grant, to comfort him and make him realize that he was wonderful and exciting to her, and that his first wife had been an idiot.
She kicked aside her wet clothes and sauntered past him to the still-running shower, leaning in to test the water. Still hot. “Come on, stud,” she told him as she stepped into the water. “You are going to receive one primo rub down, courtesy of your lovely assistant.”
“My assistant is more
Brenna winked at him and poured a huge dose of bath gel into her hand, then rubbed her palms together. She planted them on his chest and began to rub vigorously, lathering him. She started out brisk, anyhow. The more she touched those slick, soapy muscles, the more fascinated she became with his body. After a few moments of washing, she began to slowly trace her fingers over his pectorals, then dragged them up and down his abdomen, dipping into his belly button. “You sure do have a sexy body.”
“I have an even sexier assistant,” he told her, leaning in to kiss her shoulder even as she reached behind him and soaped his hard buttocks. “I’m a pretty lucky guy.”
“You are,” she told him, and grabbed the bottle of bath gel again. She squirted a long rope of it over his shoulders, then tossed the container aside, putting her hands on him again.
“Are you using enough soap?”
“Maybe,” she said in a low voice. “Maybe I just like putting my hands all over you.” And she began to rub the streaming lather on him all over again.
He dragged a hand across his shoulders, scooping up some of the bath gel. “You’ve got enough on me that I could wash you, too.” He began to rub her arms, then slid his hands to her front, flicking her nipples.
A hot rush of pleasure shot through her and Brenna moaned. “I think I need to get your back, baby,” she told him, even as she stepped closer. Her arms went around his neck and she began to kiss him as she stroked soapy hands up and down his shoulders.
“You kind of suck at washing,” he told her while caressing her skin.
“You were paying attention? I clearly need to up my game.” And she dragged the tip of her tongue across his lower lip.
He groaned. “You’re really good at that.”
“Upping my game or licking you?”
“Both.”
She ran her tongue along the hard line of his jaw as her hand slid to his ass and squeezed. “I could lick you all over, you know.”
He held her to him, his hands running all over her body. “You’re so beautiful, Brenna. When I’m with you, I forget about everything else.”
For some reason, that made her absurdly pleased. And now she wanted to please him even more. She took her hand and wrapped it around the hard length of him, giving him a slippery stroke. Grant’s breath hissed out of his mouth and then he clung to the shower bar, his gaze hot on her as she stroked his cock with her slick, soapy hands. Slow, excruciatingly tender motions. She took her time, not moving so quick that he’d come instantly. This was all about pleasure, and this was all for him. She wanted to make him feel better.
He leaned against the tile wall of the shower, eyes closing when she increased the pressure of her fist as she stroked him. “Brenna, let up. Let me get a condom.”
She stroked him as she considered it. Then she pressed her other hand to his chest to pin him in place, and she stroked her fist around his cock again. “Nah. I like it here.”
His eyes grew dark with need. “You don’t want me to touch you?”
“Oh, I do. But I like touching you so much that I’m kind of loath to stop.” Stroke. “So I thought I might just continue to have my evil way with you.” Stroke. “Until you lose control.” Stroke. “Because I think I’d like to see that.”
And she tightened her fist and squeezed hard. “Now say my name,” she teased. “And tell me that you belong to me.”
“Brenna,” he bit out, his voice tight with desire. His gaze hadn’t left her face for an instant, utterly focused on her. “I am totally and completely yours.”
Oh, how she liked hearing that. It made her wet and excited all over again, and she stroked him again as a reward. “Tell me again?”
“Yours,” he bit out, and then his hand wrapped around hers and he began to stroke his cock with her hand, using her hard and rough.
A moment later, he came on her belly, his gaze totally riveted to her. And she was about to come herself, just from watching him. It was a mixture of eroticism and satisfaction, and something else she couldn’t quite name. Neither one of them moved for a long moment as he panted, trying to get his breath back, even though the water was growing steadily colder.
He hauled her close and wrapped his arms around her, burying his face against her neck and in her wet hair. “I love you, Brenna.”
And she opened her mouth before she realized it, then snapped it shut.
She had almost said “I love you” back to him. That was the weird, niggling little sensation she’d been feeling all afternoon. It wasn’t lust or pride or possession. It was all of those wrapped into one. And it was love.
Brenna was in love with Grant.
And that really, really freaked her out.
THIRTEEN
That evening, they lay in bed together. Grant was asleep, his arm wrapped possessively over her torso, one hand clutching her breast, his hips spooned against her own. Brenna, however, couldn’t sleep. In her mind, she kept going over that afternoon.
Grant’s first wife had been a selfish woman, Brenna decided. Oh, she’d been blond and cute and happy enough in the photos that Grant had of her, but she’d clearly made him miserable. She’d also made him think he was the problem in the relationship, even though every single sign pointed to something clearly unstable inside of Heather’s head and not Grant’s. What kind of woman went from mild-mannered college student to rhino-hunting, shark-swimming, Mount-Everest-climbing swinger who needed constant thrills?
The kind of woman who wrecked her husband in her wake and didn’t even realize it, Brenna thought, her hand stroking over Grant’s larger one. She would never do that to him.
Her hand stilled. She had secrets of her own, though. Just as horrible and maybe even more embarrassing than that. Secrets that had fucked her up in the head and made it impossible for her to have normal relationships. So who was she to say that she’d be there for Grant?
She couldn’t. Her life was the way it was because it was safest.
But for the first time, Brenna wanted more than what she had. And she didn’t know how to handle that.
She needed to talk to Miranda and Beth Ann. Maybe they’d be able to help her see things clearly. Because right now? She feared things were doomed, and she was going to hurt Grant just as badly as Heather did, if not worse. If he knew her past he’d want nothing to do with her. He’d leave and she’d be left picking up the pieces.
And that thought hurt. A lot.
She crept out of bed a bit later, when she was sure that Grant was soundly sleeping and wouldn’t wake up. She pulled on a pair of his pajamas and headed down to the main lodge, yawning.
Grant needed something to cheer him up, and she knew the perfect way to distract him. Sitting down at her desk, she pulled out the keys to the supply closet and headed there. Sure enough, at the bottom of the closet, there were a few rolls of cheerfully bright wrapping paper left over from Pop’s birthday last month. They’d jokingly bought him the most childish, garish paper they could find, knowing he’d get a kick out of it. And there was plenty left over . . . and more than enough for her to cover Grant’s desk.
Grabbing a bright pink roll of princess paper, she picked up the scissors and set to work. Strange how she’d swap a few hours of sleep and hours of her time just to get a smile on Grant’s face.
Yeah, she definitely needed to meet with her friends as soon as possible, because she had it bad.
• • •
At Brenna’s request, Beth Ann and Miranda met her at Maya Loco for lunch and drinks. It was the busiest time for the restaurant, but it was also the only time Miranda and Beth Ann could both meet. Beth Ann hated leaving her salon for long periods of time, and Mira
Brenna had simply left the main lodge while Grant had been out at the office supply store a few towns over. He’d come back and wonder where she was, but she’d left him a goofy little note. Roses are red, violets are blue, went to lunch with the girls, but I’ll come back and blow you.
It wasn’t the first time she’d abandoned her job midday, but the first time she’d left Grant a note so he wouldn’t worry. Hell, it was downright domestic of her, and that was concerning. After all, now she was thinking about Grant’s feelings and his emotions. She never had before. And even as she left him the note? She felt a little . . . anxious. Trapped. Worried. Because they’d gone from casual sex to emotional sex within the space of a week or two, and it was freaking her out. Two weeks ago, the last thing she wanted was a real relationship. Now?
Now she didn’t know what to do.
She was the first one to arrive at the restaurant, so she ordered a margarita and then proceeded to down it in the space of a minute, between bites of chips and salsa. When the waiter asked if she wanted another, she made a rolling motion with her hand, indicating that he should keep them coming. By the time Miranda and Beth Ann showed up together, she was halfway through sucking down her third.
Miranda slid into the booth on the opposite side of her, her eyes wide at the empty margarita glasses. “Wow. Bad day? You fighting with Grant again?”
“No,” Brenna said miserably. “We’re awesome. That’s the problem.”
“Why’s that a problem, honey?” Beth Ann slid in next to Brenna. “You both seem pretty happy lately.”
“Oh sure.” Brenna waved a hand, wishing she were drunker and the thought of their being happy together didn’t hurt so much at the moment. “It’s all fun and games until someone loses an eye. Or their heart.”
“Huh?” Miranda shook her head. “You need to eat to kill that margarita buzz, or I’m going to have to drive you back to the ranch.” She raised a hand for the waiter. “We need three coffees over here, please.”