Master of the Mountain

Chapter Five

“I won't take you home.” Matt ran the razor across his chin, staring at himself in the steamed-up mirror in their cabin bathroom.

She'd finally run him to ground after breakfast, and now he didn't even look at her. Rebecca scowled and crossed her arms over her chest. “Matthew, I won't-”

“Sorry, babe,” he interrupted. “But I've been looking forward to this vacation with the club for months. I'm not going to ruin it because you're too uptight to enjoy yourself.”

“I'm not uptight,” she said in a thin voice. “I just don't like strangers groping me. And I'm sorry. Coming here was a mistake.”

“Not my mistake,” he pointed out. He splashed water on his face to remove the shaving cream. “You can take the car if you want; I'll catch a ride with someone.”

“I don't know how to drive a stick shift.”

“Oh. I forgot. Well, then, I guess you're stuck until Wednesday.” Turning, he said, “Logan's brother is taking some people to see the falls in Yosemite this afternoon. You said you wanted to see the place.”

“I do.” She clenched her hands so tight, her knuckles cracked. “Will you at least give me the cabin to myself? You can move in with one of the others.”

“No.” He patted his face dry. “We've found it works better if the men stay in the cabins, and the women wander around. Unless someone wants a free-for-all, and then we use the lodge room. So I need the cabin. But you're welcome to use it too. A couple of the women really enjoy threesomes.”

Right. “That won't work for me, Matt.”

He gave an exaggerated sigh. “Look, it's not my problem, but I'll talk with Logan and see if he has an empty cabin. I doubt it, but I'll ask.”

“Thanks.” Don't overexert yourself. She gave him a stiff nod and left. Matt might as well talk with Logan; if she asked for a cabin, she'd all too likely end up in his bed-again. She frowned. Last night hadn't been exactly her decision, and they hadn't done that much…really…but a second time would mean real sex. She pressed a hand over her stomach where her supposedly nonexistent libido turned a few somersaults. Damn.

Matt might be comfortable messing around with different lovers, but she wasn't. If she went to bed with Logan-as in making love-then it basically meant she considered her relationship with Matt over. She stopped and leaned against a tree, frowning. Could she ever get past seeing Matt with Ashley?

But they'd been so right together, and he'd said as much.

But would he be willing to quit the swinging club? Doubtful, Rebecca, doubtful. Where did that leave her? Breaking up and breaking the lease and being single. Alone.

Her breath shuddered through her, and then she tightened her lips. Life was what it was, and she had to face facts. A monogamous woman didn't belong with a man who wanted a variety pack of women. She sighed. What did that say about her inadequacies that he had to go messing around with other women? Sure, she could tell herself he just liked to swing, but that didn't help the underlying feeling that she didn't measure up. Too big, too boring.

With a sigh, she headed down the trail toward the lodge. Walking around a curve, she stopped dead. The dog stared at her from the center of the trail. Oh God, oh God. She took a step back, but it advanced on her. Its ears were back.

As it got within a foot, her heart pounded so violently, she thought she'd throw up. Don't run. Running made them jump on you and rip at you and…

It sniffed her jeans. She couldn't quite stifle the whimper, and it looked up at her, growling.

“Thor.” Logan stood at the bend in the trail. “Come here.”

Relief rushed through her and made her breath hitch. Yet she couldn't move.

Giving one last growl, the dog trotted back to its owner.

Logan reached Rebecca just as her legs crumpled. He caught her, his hands firm around her waist. “Easy there.” He scooped her up in his arms, sat on a downed log at the trail's edge, and cradled her as easily as if she were a toddler. As his scent surrounded her, she managed to draw in a breath and then couldn't seem to get enough air.

Safe. She was safe.

Without speaking, he held her as she shuddered, as she burrowed closer into his arms, as her gasping slowed. After a while, she realized he was stroking her back, not fake reassuring pats, but long sweeps of his hand, warm and firm. Her breathing slowly changed to match the rhythm.

Finally, when she couldn't put it off any longer, she moved, trying to ignore the flush of humiliation. What an idiot she'd made of herself. Last night and now.

His arms loosened, and she sat up. “Thank you, Logan.” She braced herself and looked him in the face, expecting pity. Maybe even some disgust.

His expression held only sympathy. And curiosity. “Thor is intimidating, I know, but I've never seen someone quite so frightened of him. Why?”

She slid off onto the log to sit beside him before spotting the dog standing a few feet away. She barely managed not to crawl back into Logan's lap. Why wouldn't it leave?

Callused fingers took her chin and tilted her face up, forcing her eyes from the dog. Thoughtfully, he studied her. “Why are you so scared of dogs?”

She did not want to remember any of it. Never. Forget talking about it. She tried to shake her head. God knew her voice wouldn't work right.

He didn't release her. His voice deepened. “Becca, answer me.”

“One b-bit me.”

“Keep going, sugar. I can tell there's more to it than that. When did it happen?”

“When I was ten.” Under his level gaze, words spilled out of her, ugly memories she hadn't been able to share with anyone. “Skateboarding in the park and a dog…” The memory of the dog blanked her mind. Her hands fisted, and she jerked her gaze away.

“No, look at me.”

When her eyes turned back to his, he stroked his warm hands up and down her arms.

“Tell me more. Was the dog big?”

She shuddered, remembering how it had come toward her, growling, teeth bared, the hair on its back up like the dog here. The dog. Where was Thor? She turned.

Logan cupped his hand around her chin. “Look at me, sugar. Big dog?”

She nodded and found her voice worked. Mostly. “Big.” There were no words for the size of it. “It came at me, growling, and I tried to run away.”

He winced.

“Yeah. The doctor said I shouldn't have run. But it was going to attack me anyway.”

“Got it.” He let go of her face and picked her up, setting her back on his lap. Without speaking, he held her against him. His arms around her were powerful, his chest solid. Nothing could get to her. She buried her head in his shoulder and sighed.

“Keep going. Get it all out,” he said. “You ran. Then what?”

“It attacked, got hold of one of my legs. I fell.” Her head had cracked against the concrete, and pain had been everywhere, striking over and over. “It… I would have died, except I screamed. A man had a baseball bat.”

“God, sweetheart.” Logan's arms tightened. “You were just a baby.”

“They sewed me up as good as they could, but”-she shrugged-“I have scars.” She could hear her classmates taunting, “Ugly, ugly, ugly.”

“Well, I'll take a closer look at them later,” he said.

She stiffened. “You will not.”

He chuckled and then lifted her like a doll, placing her on the log between his legs with her back against his chest. “Meantime, you and Thor need to make friends.”

“No way.” She tried to stand, and an iron arm locked around her waist.

“Give me your hand.” He reached around her and put his palm in front of her waist. “Rebecca.”

When he used that voice, that tone, why did she obey him? This wasn't like her at all, yet he made her feel so safe. Her hand crept into his.

His voice warmed. “Good girl.” He shifted slightly. “Thor, get over here and say hi to the lady.”

Thor paced over to them. When Rebecca tried to shrink back, Logan's unbending body behind her prevented it. Her free hand clasped his thigh, the fingers digging in as the dog came closer.

Its eyes looked mean, and she couldn't muffle a whimper.

Logan's hand held hers steady as the dog sniffed her fingers. “She's a friend, Thor. Stop picking on her; she's had a rough time.”

As if it understood, the dog looked up. She was shaking uncontrollably, wanting only to run. It snuffled her hand again, and then it licked her palm.

“It wants to eat me,” she whispered. “Please, please, let me go.”

A laugh rumbled in her ear. “No, sweetheart. I'm the one that will eat you. Thor only licks people he likes. It's his version of a hug.”

“Really?” She hadn't been this close to a dog since the attack. She'd cross the streets to avoid anything larger than a miniature poodle. If people had dogs, she didn't visit. “Look at his teeth.” Sharp and huge and savage.

“Thor is a mixture, a mongrel. We figure he's part-shepherd, part-husky, and part-collie. Remember Lassie? Lassie was a collie.” The matter-of-fact voice comforted her as Logan gripped her hand, forcing her to stroke Thor's head.

The dog's tail moved slightly, back and forth. Even Rebecca knew that was a good thing. Logan didn't let up, making her pet the dog over and over.

“Now huskies tend to be shy and don't really like people,” Logan said, his voice a low murmur in her ear. “But shepherds are smart guys and want to hang out with humans, since they get bored easily. Collies are natural protectors. Anything that needs to be saved, a collie's your dog. All three breeds are accustomed to working with man.”

Rebecca's muscles had relaxed, and after a second, she realized he'd released her hand. She was petting the dog by herself. And it let her. She pulled her hand back. Would Logan release her now?

The dog moved forward. Rebecca's breath caught, and she cringed back against the immovable body behind her.

Another paw moved forward, and then the dog laid its head on her knee and leaned heavily against her leg. Big, dark eyes looked up at her, and its demand couldn't have been more obvious if it talked. Pet me some more.

It-he-wasn't a monster. Her laugh caught on a sob, but she managed to lay her hand on his head and stroke his fur. Soft fur.

“Very good, sugar.” Logan kissed the side of her neck. “You've made a friend, and Thor has someone else to nag into petting him. A good day's work.”

He set her down on the log beside him before rising. Bending over, he placed a hard kiss on her lips, then snapped his fingers at the dog and continued down the trail. Rebecca watched them until they disappeared around a corner of the forest.

Well. She'd petted a dog, and he had wagged his tail and licked her. Her breathing and heart rate were still too fast, but she smiled. He liked her. Thor liked her.

She pushed to her feet and had to hold on to a tree until her knees stopped wobbling. Starting down the trail, she remembered something Logan had said. “No, sweetheart. I'm the one that will eat you.”

The flush started in her face and didn't stop until her toes curled in her sneakers.

Jake had returned, thank Christ, and Logan not only didn't have to play nice with the people but he'd even caught a two-hour nap. The swingers who had gone in the van with Jake to see Yosemite Valley had returned, pleased with their afternoon. The few swingers who remained at the lodge had been-occupied-and were also pleased with their day, sharing tales of their adventures over the supper table.

Happy campers made for return business.

With a grunt of satisfaction, Logan poured himself a glass of wine and wandered out to the lodge room. Taking a chair a small distance from the crowd, he settled in to enjoy the aftermath of a good meal.

Rebecca was quite a cook. This morning the breakfast she'd made had taken his breath away. And supper had been roast beef with potatoes stewed in the juices, gravy, more biscuits. Hell, he could live nicely on just those biscuits alone. She'd even baked a cake. From scratch. He hadn't had food like this since he'd left his parents' ranch in Oregon.

Leaning back in his chair, he sipped his wine and studied the little rebel. A drawing pad propped on her lap, she created caricatures of the others to much acclaim. He shook his head. For an artistic type, she sure had no sense of how to dress. After coming back from Jake's Yosemite tour, she had changed into another of her ugly shirts, the ones that covered up every curve she had. Idiot woman. Even one of his flannel shirts would show her figure off better. Didn't she realize that a man would never notice the roundness of her waist when she had so much roundness above it?

Maybe he should tell her that.

God, she'd felt good underneath him this morning, and on his lap later. He could have resisted her physical attraction-maybe-but when she'd trembled in his arms as he made her pet Thor, he'd lost the battle. That damned vulnerability brought out every protective instinct of a Dom.

Then there was that moment when Thor laid his head on her leg, and her delight replaced fear. He had hoped for a truce between her and the dog, and instead he'd gotten the beginnings of true love. He sipped his wine and sighed. He hadn't expected the city girl to be so sweet. Like desert sand, she kept shifting on him until he could never be certain of his footing.

One thing he'd decided… She'd be underneath him again before the end of the weekend.

With a smile, he turned far enough to put her fully in his sights. She was aware of his attention, flushing every time she met his gaze, and even from here, he could see her breathing turn fast and shallow. A timid little rabbit when it came to sex, but trap her he would, even against his better judgment.

Giving her a break, he leaned his head back against the chair and relaxed. He had a long day's work in front of him tomorrow, and hopefully he'd get some sleep tonight.

“…BDSM.”

With that word, Logan's attention turned to the conversation going on, and he opened his eyes. What were they talking about?

“I thought swinging and bondage stuff were the same thing,” Rebecca asked the couple on the couch across from her, setting her pencil down.

“No, swinging just means open sex. Now BDSM means”-Mel rubbed his ruddy face as he thought-“three different things. SM for sadomasochism. And BD is…”

“Bondage and discipline,” Ginger said. “Tying people up and that sort of thing. And the DS part stands for domination and submission.”

Not bad, Logan thought. They'd gotten the acronyms correct at least.

He noticed Jake had disappeared, so he rose to make the wine rounds. Part of their lodge host duties involved playing bartender. He enjoyed the chores most of the time, and before they became too annoying, the lodge would empty out, and he could enjoy the quiet.

He filled glasses as he went around the room, reaching Rebecca just as she asked Mel, “I knew about the S and M stuff, and I've heard of bondage. But the domination and submission? I don't get that.”

The Dom in him couldn't pass over an opportunity like this, not from a woman he wanted. After setting down the wine bottle, he leaned over and threaded his fingers in her hair. When he tightened them, he had control.

She jumped in surprise and tried to wrench away.

With a steady pull on her hair, he forced her to look at him.

Her mouth opened.

“You do not have permission to speak,” he growled.

Not only did she stay silent but her pupils dilated slightly. Her cheeks flushed.

The sands shifted under him again. Spirited. Vulnerable. Sweet. Could she really be submissive also?

Releasing her, he cupped her chin in his hand, seeing the stunned look in her eyes. “That's domination, pet,” he said. He smiled slowly as her body quivered in his grasp, confirming his impression.

And that's submission.

His blue eyes seemed to pin her to the chair even as his hard hand kept her head from moving. His voice, his command, kept her silenced, and somehow, someway, her body not only let him but she was shaking inside as waves and waves of heat went through her. She stared up at him helplessly and knew if he wanted to take her, here and now, she'd let him.

He ran his finger over her lips, and she realized her mouth was open, her breathing fast. His cheek creased with his smile. And then he turned and left her sitting there in the chair, staring at him.