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When she looked at him like that, every dominant cell in his brain screamed at him to take what he could get and use it as leverage to get the rest of what he wanted. He had to be the first man in the history of men to refuse to sleep with a woman who wanted him because she wouldn’t put out emotionally.
There was something seriously wrong with him.
There was a word for it, actually.
Love.
Chapter Nine
The exploration of the lodge and all of the outbuildings had taken forever. No matter how many millions he’d spent on the place, Grant had gotten a deal. Lucky bastard.
She never would have even looked at a place like this online—not that she could necessarily afford it with so much of her money tied up in the brewery. But the place was perfect and lovely and if she died here and never went home she would have been a happy camper.
They had made up the bed in the master suite with fresh sheets they’d found in a closet down the hall. Now she was lolling back in the bed they planned to share—just as friends—later tonight. She would have to work on not cuddling up to him as she slept. He was big, so she might just roll toward him unintentionally . . .
“I wonder if I could run the brewery from here and never go home?” she said, thinking aloud. “I’ll pay you fair rent, I swear. You’ll hardly even notice I’m here.”
“Somehow I doubt that. You’ll get bored after a few days and start making a nuisance of yourself. It’s part of your natural charm.”
Grant’s gaze was full of affection and mischief, so she was forced to drill him in the arm with a fist. He complained bitterly, rubbing his arm in mock agony.
“So your way to convince me to let you stay is to abuse my poor body? Rude.”
“I’m starting to wonder if maybe that’s what you’re secretly into. Considering how stubborn you’ve gotten about putting out. Maybe you should let me top you for a while. I promise to respect your safeword, too, even if you deserve to be punished.”
“I’ll keep your kind offer in mind.”
“I know you’ve never let anyone top you. You really should give it a try sometime,” she teased, knowing he’d never go for it. “I’m sure you’d love to take a break and let someone else be in charge for a while.”
She cleared her throat, trying to dismiss the visual of him sliding between the sheets wearing nothing more than his boxer briefs. If he decided to parade around half naked all evening, it was going to make her drool.
If one thing led to another she’d be more than happy with that. He was the one trying to avoid it. Maybe she’d agreed to come with him with thoughts of seducing him first and foremost in her mind, although she’d follow the man across the continent while locked in chastity, truth be told. He’d always been such a gorgeous slut. She’d always admired him for taking his pleasure wherever and whenever he felt like. Resisting his temptations this week was going to be brutal. Hell, it already had been brutal and they’d only been there for a few hours.
She stretched out, arching her back and enjoying the way his hungry gaze slid over her body. Being here with him, alone, was making her as randy as a three-peckered goat. His appreciative glances and that almost kiss had been making her squirrelly, but she seemed to be getting nowhere with him.
Sure, she’d said they’d keep things platonic, but she didn’t think she could handle a whole week alone with him with no sex. Sharing a bed. How was she supposed to jill off to release tension if he was sleeping inches away?
She had the urge to rub up against him and lick him.
Bad, bad Dexter. No Grant for you!
If only she’d kept it in her pants instead of sleeping with him that night, she’d never know what she was missing. And she’d been missing him in her bed ever since.
It wasn’t just sex between them though. Now he knew her better than even Mia had. And that was saying something, considering she and Mia had shared almost everything, back in the day . . . eventually too much of everything.
“Should we check out the beach?” he asked tightly.
She knew he had to be tired after all the driving and the adventure to get here this morning—he hadn’t slept in well over twenty-four hours—but it was obvious he was avoiding getting in bed with her even though she was still fully clothed and sharing the bed had been his suggestion.
“The beach? Okay.” The thermometer outside the window at the front desk earlier had read twenty-one Celsius, whatever that meant. It would probably be cool by the water, but she wasn’t about to go down there without having the option to jump in the lake if she felt so inspired. They’d grabbed their stuff from the boat earlier, so she hopped off the bed and fished her boy short bathing suit bottoms out of her duffel bag.
“It’s going to be too cold to swim,” Grant warned, bossy as ever.
She shrugged. “Even if I don’t go in, maybe I’ll start a tan.” She kicked off her hiking boots and stripped off her jeans, not missing Grant’s failed attempt to look away. She met his gaze and smiled an invitation as she tugged off her T-shirt.
“Do you think it’s safe to go topless, or am I going to get arrested?”
“One, there’s no one around except me. Two, it’s legal for women to go topless in Ontario.” The latter Grant had addressed to her breasts.
