Wicked (Wild, Wicked and Wanton #2) - Jaci Burton Page 0,21

on. Her panties were toast, and she didn’t even know where they were anyway.

Rand watched her dress.

“I like knowing you’re naked under that skirt,” he said, walking toward her and pulling her into his arms. He lifted her skirt and palmed her buttocks, slipping his fingers between them to tease her pussy lips. “I want to be able to play with you at will.”

Her nipples rose and puckered against the stretchy fabric, alerting him to her state of arousal. He smiled down at her, fully aware of her reaction to his touch.

“I also like that you cream when I touch you. It’s like this instant gush of fluid down there.”

“Are you trying to embarrass me?”

He arched a brow. “Embarrass? No. I’m trying to get you to loosen up. I intend to have you this weekend, Blair. Whenever and wherever. You’re going to relinquish complete control to me and learn to love it. Get used to it.”

He smoothed her skirt over her buttocks, patted her ass, and walked out of the room.

Humph. Whenever and wherever, like she was some cheap whore he’d hired to be at his beck and call. She’d see about that. She was no man’s plaything and especially not Rand’s. And while she might thoroughly enjoy fucking him, this mind game he was playing with her wasn’t going to work. She was here on a bet, and that was it.

“Blair! Come on outside,” he hollered. “And bring us a bottle of red wine when you do.”

She rolled her eyes, but stopped in the kitchen on her way out the back door into his yard, slipping her sandals on before she went.

He had two steaks on the grill, along with vegetables on skewers and potatoes in foil. She handed him the bottle of red wine, which he opened and set aside to breathe for a moment.

“Anything you need me to do?” she asked.

“Yeah. Sit down and relax. You look tense,” he said, grinning at her.

Rascal bounded over for a pat on the head and a scratching of the ears. Blair busied herself playing with the dog while Rand cooked. It was very . . . domestic and made her squirm uncomfortably.

Sunset had breached the dense treetops on Rand’s property, obliterating the opressive heat a little. It was still going to be a warm night, with hardly a breeze to offer relief. She watched Rand as he cooked, picturing him in the expansive yard with a couple kids, more dogs, and a lot of noise. A few swing sets, toys all over, maybe a swimming pool and a hot tub.

All he needed was a woman to share it with.

Not that she was that woman.

Nope, not her. That kind of life wasn’t her deal at all. She was forever single, happy and carefree. The whole fantasy of family and kids and acreage and a ranch house like Rand owned was someone else’s dream, not hers.

Someday he’d find a nice, sweet woman to settle down with and give him that dream.

So why did the thought make her stomach hurt?

And why did she picture herself in the middle of this backyard, up to her waist in the pool, and laughing with kids or wrestling with dogs?

It wasn’t her! She was a forever-single vixen, a career woman in charge of her own destiny, in utter control of her own life. And nowhere in that life was there a ranch house, a couple of kids, a dog, and a swimming pool.

“You’re doing it again.”

She looked up to find Rand sliding a plate in front of her.

“Doing what?”

He slid into the chair next to her and poured a glass of wine for each of them. “You’re lost in thought. What were you thinking about?”

Attributing the flush on her face to the heat outside, she grabbed a napkin and faced the plate of food that had suddenly lost its appeal. “Nothing.”

“Secrets again.” He started to eat but studied her, talking in between mouthfuls. “Maybe I’ll just try to guess.”

Never in a million years would he figure it out.

“Aren’t you wondering what I’m going to do with you after dinner?”

“No.”

“You should.” He slanted her a sly smile and resumed eating.

And she started thinking while she ate. What was he going to do with her after dinner? By the time they finished eating and cleared away the dishes, she had imagined several scenarios. Thank God he didn’t have any chandeliers in his house.

“Figure it out yet?” he asked as they loaded the last of the dishes into the dishwasher.

Again,