Читать книгу Melt Into You - Roni Loren, Roni Loren - Страница 12

SEVEN

Evan’s palms were damp against the arms of the overstuffed chair as she waited for the owner of The Ranch to meet with her. The limo drive to the place had been long, and as the minutes had slipped away, so had her resolve.

She glanced around the well-appointed sitting room, trying to focus on anything but her reasons for being here. Dark, rustic furniture, wood floors, artwork displaying Texas’s varied landscapes, and a large stone fireplace, which she was sure was more for show than practicality in this climate. If she didn’t know better, she would’ve guessed she was in some high-end ski resort and not a retreat specializing in kink.

She tilted her head back and groaned. This was stupid. Ridiculous. She wasn’t the type of person to go to a sex resort. Was she really that desperate? She’d lived without sex for over a year. Why was it suddenly such a big deal?

There could only be one reason.

Goddamn Jace. He’d always been able to stir up that part of her without trying. Even when she’d first met him and hadn’t totally recognized the feeling as desire, she’d been drawn to him, wanted to be in his sphere of attention as much as possible. He had a way of making her feel like she was the only one in the room, and after years of being invisible to everyone around her that feeling had been heady, addictive. She should’ve been immune to it by now. But after a few seemingly harmless touches on that stage, Jace had flipped the switch and had her engines firing on all cylinders again. Man, she was screwed.

A massive wooden door on the opposite side of the room eased open, and an impossibly tall man with wavy dark hair stepped inside. He gave her a smile that seemed to warm the whole room. “You must be Ms. Kennedy.”

The deep twang in his voice matched the cowboy boots peeking out of the bottom of his faded jeans. The image totally didn’t fit with what Evan had imagined the owner of this type of resort to look like. She hadn’t expected head-to-toe leather or anything, but a handsome cowboy hadn’t been on her radar of possibilities either.

She smiled. “That’d be me. But please, call me Evan.”

He crossed the room in two long strides and put his hand out to shake hers. “Welcome to The Ranch, Evan. I’m Grant Waters, the owner and operator.”

She shook his hand, hoping he didn’t notice just how sweaty her palm was. “Nice to meet you.”

He held her hand for a moment longer, holding her gaze, no doubt evaluating her, and then stepped back to sit on the couch across from her. He crooked a thumb at the door. “Would you like something to drink? We have everything but alcohol here.”

No alcohol? Well, so much for plan A on how she was going to get up enough nerve to do this. She shook her head. “No thanks. I’m fine.”

“So, I hear your fiancé surprised you with a membership.”

She crossed her legs to keep her knee from bumping up and down with nerves. “Um, yes. I’d never even heard of this place until tonight.”

“Well, we don’t exactly advertise.” He braced his forearms on his thighs, leaning forward a bit. “Interesting choice of a gift—to give you a membership and not get one for himself. Any ideas on why he would do that?”

The timbre of his voice was low, seemingly casual, but she didn’t miss the sharp glint in his eyes. This man was making sure she was on the up and up. She squirmed a bit in her seat. Despite how often she had to do it, she hated lying, especially to someone who looked like he could smell bullshit from thirty paces. She scrambled for some plausible explanation. “I . . . Well, I haven’t been all that sexually adventurous in my life, and I think he’s worried if I don’t sow my oats or whatever, I’ll always wonder after we’re married.”

Grant seemed to chew on that for a moment. “Just because you get married doesn’t mean you’re locked down to non-adventurous sex. Lots of couples come here for ménage or to switch partners. Or even if they only engage with each other, there are lots of things a couple can do between themselves to spice things up.”

She wet her lips thinking of threesomes, couple swaps. The ideas should have appalled her, but instead her body awakened as all kinds of illicit images flooded her mind. “Daniel’s not exactly into any of that stuff.”

Grant gave a sage nod. “Ah, I see. Vanilla guy marrying a girl who may not be so traditional.”

She sighed. “I honestly don’t know if I’m traditional or not. I haven’t really explored very much.”

His lips curved into a kind smile, one that eased the tension that had filled the room a few seconds before. “So what are you hoping to experience here, Evan?”

She twisted her engagement ring round and round on her finger. What was she hoping to experience? She’d had naughty fantasies in her life—who hadn’t? But what would she actually want if giving carte blanche? “I’m not sure.”

He rubbed a hand over his five-o’clock shadow, considering her. “Why don’t we walk around the main building? I’ll show you some of the activity rooms and we can see what appeals to you. Maybe it’ll help us tease out what desires are hiding in there.”

She smiled. “Okay, that sounds good.”

A few minutes later, Grant led her up a flight of stairs and into a long, quiet hallway. Sconces provided soft lighting, but the maroon walls and dark wood floors gave the impression of entering a secret lair. She had the urge to whisper her question, but the guy was so damn tall he probably wouldn’t hear her up there in the stratosphere. “So no one’s here right now?”

“No, we close a few days once a month to do general maintenance. Everyone will start arriving tomorrow.” He slipped a hand onto her lower back and eased her forward. “Go ahead. Each window gives a view into a different room.”

She took a few steps and turned to look through the first large window that flanked the right side of the wall. A dreary, stone-walled dungeon, complete with manacles and a host of other tools she didn’t recognize came into view. If not for the little security camera tucked into the upper corner of the room, the place could’ve fit into any ancient castle. “Wow, this looks authentic.”

Grant stepped up next to her. “As I’m sure you can imagine, this is one of the more popular rooms since so many of our guests practice BDSM. We have a number of dungeon areas throughout the resort, including a few larger ones for group play.”

She nodded, anxiety twining through her.

“This one makes you nervous.”

She peeked up at him, surprised by his spot-on assessment. “A little. Not sure I’d want to jump right into that.”

He chuckled. “Fair enough.”

They walked past a few other themed rooms—a doctor’s office, a classroom, a barn, a decadent boudoir, a strip club scene complete with a pole. The sheer level of detail of each room boggled her mind. They were not fooling around here. Some big money had been spent.

Every scene affected her on some level as her mind automatically placed her in each fantasy. The naughty nurse. The stripper. Her skin had flushed well past the point of comfort as they traveled down the hallway. They crossed in front of the window to the next room, and her heart picked up speed.

She stared at the mock police station setup. The desk. The jail cell behind it with a narrow bed. What would it be like to have a guy play bad cop? To handcuff her and have her at his mercy? To pass her off to his partner to share her?

The vision of two cops hauling her into the room, arresting her with plans for their own satisfaction, filled her head. Two above-the-law officers handling her however they pleased. Bending her over that desk and shoving her skirt over her hips, taking her from behind while the other used her mouth for his pleasure.

Whoa. Where had that come from? She tried to wet her lips, but her mouth had forgotten how to make spit; all the moisture in her body had rerouted much, much lower. Jesus, what was wrong with her? That shouldn’t turn her on.

Grant’s voice was like dark whiskey as he leaned closer to her. “Tell me why this one appeals to you.”

“How do you know—”

“Darling, you’re breathing faster, your face is flushed, and your nipples are so hard, you’re getting me hot and bothered.”

She ducked her head, wanting to cover her face with her hands, but he put a finger under her chin, forcing her face toward him. “No shame here, Evan. You’re not going to get judgment from me or anyone else who comes here.”

“It’s just . . . I . . . ,” she said, stumbling over her words.

“You feel uncomfortable that this turns you on,” he said, his tone gentle. “This room is usually used for scenes that involve power play.”

“Is that a fancy way of saying ‘pretend rape’?” she asked, her stomach knotting.

He frowned. “No, not at all. What’s speaking to you is not a rape fantasy. Rape means non-consensual, and I doubt you desire a true loss of consent.”

She shuddered. “No way.”

“So, it’s a dominance/submission fantasy. A cop is a classic role of authority and dominance, the prisoner the counterbalance to that. It’s role-playing mixed with D/s—like most of these rooms. Nothing to be ashamed of.” He laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “As long as everyone is aware of the risks and it’s consensual, you can embrace whatever desires you have here. Even the dark ones.”

She nodded, absorbing the power of his words, the freedom of such a concept. Maybe this was the answer to her present situation. Exploring her most forbidden fantasies in a no-strings-attached, safe environment, while still keeping her comfortable situation at home.

She cleared her throat. “So does this mean I should try the BDSM route?”

“I would say it’d be a good place to start,” he said, amusement glinting in his eyes. “The important question is, in your fantasy, which role are you playing? A cop or the prisoner.”

Her eyebrows scrunched. Huh. She hadn’t even considered being in the cop role. That didn’t seem nearly as enticing. She glanced up at him. “The prisoner.”

He smiled. “Well, that answers a lot. I think The Ranch is going to be able to provide exactly what you need.”

“Really?”

“No doubt,” he said, ushering her back toward the door they’d come in originally. “And I already know a few members who could be perfect at providing it for you.”

Anticipation rippled through her. This was either going to be the most exciting or the most idiotic decision she’d ever made.

Unfortunately, based on her track record with men and sex, odds weren’t in her favor.