Finding Their Bliss (Corbin's Bend Book 1) Read online

  “Ms. Kendle?”

  “Char,” she corrected him quickly. “It’s Char. And yes, I’d like to meet you for dinner.”

  After setting a time of six the next evening, she put her phone down. “What the hell was that?” Something told her he once again had control of the situation. Hopefully he would tone it down during their dinner. It would be bad if she had to apologize again for insulting him on top of apologizing to him for her horrendous behavior. Shaking her head, she looked down at the pad of paper in front of her and felt heat from her toes to her cheeks, definitely high up on the blush scale. Tossing the pen aside, she got up and left the office. If she kept herself busy, she could ignore the fact she had just drawn a wooden paddle along with the words “Spank Me” on it.

  She really needed to get a handle on this thing. Maybe her ex was right and she was a freak.

  ****

  Rushing into his house, Brent undressed as he made his way to the bedroom. A call from Mrs. Lauder, one of their widows, had informed him that one of her trees had fallen down, but had also made him late. There was no way he was letting Char – he loved that she told him to call her by her first name – out of this date. Char was a good name, though if things worked out, he would love to call her Charmagne while he was painting her ass a nice, bright pink.

  After taking a quick shower, he quickly dressed in black jeans and a dark blue button-down shirt, tossed on some aftershave, and was out the door twelve minutes after he entered it. The roads were mostly clear in their development. As the snow had only fallen for six hours and there had been no snow since, he and two other men had gotten the roads plowed. Of course, he thought, as he pulled onto Char’s steep drive, her house was not part of the development, so it had not been done. Cursing that the plow was on the front of his four-by-four and not the truck, he made it through the snow, which was now a mixture of slush and ice, and parked in front of her garage.

  He barely had his door open and had hopped down before she was out of her door and on her way to meet him. A large part of him rebelled at that, as he was an old-fashioned gentleman and would have preferred to escort her the whole way. But Char was full of twenty-first century bravado and until he had the right, he would just have to accept that. If she was at all into spanking and was open to the kind of relationship he wanted? At that point, he would convince her that following his lead was the better way to go.

  “You look lovely,” he told her, looking hungrily at her tight black jeans and long pink sweater than hung just slightly below her hips, clinging to her in wonderful ways. Damn, she was an incredibly sexy woman.

  “Uh, thanks?” she said, sounding unsure of herself. “I assumed it was casual.”

  Nodding, he walked around the truck with her and opened the passenger side door, smirking when she opened her mouth and closed it. The flash of something in her brown eyes told him she had just been about to make a comment about being able to open her own door. Oh, honey, you have no idea. He respected and fought for women’s rights. Eliza had been a powerful attorney who could do anything herself. She just chose to follow his lead, and he had loved taking care of her. Would Char allow him the same courtesy?

  Once inside, he backed out slowly and down her drive.

  “So, where is there a diner?” she asked.

  “Diner?”

  “Well, it isn’t like we’re near a town.”

  Chuckling, he shook his head. “No, but our development is huge and almost half full. We have five restaurants – none of them fast food – two mini-markets, three coffee shops, and one modified movie theater.”

  “A movie theater, really?” she asked, halfway turning toward him with interest.

  “Yep. We’ll drive by the clubhouse. It's behind it.”

  “How big is it?”

  “It’ll seat seventy-five.”

  A soft laugh poured from her lips. “I’m used to stadium seating.”

  “True. This isn’t the most up-to-date cinema out there, but it works for our little community.”

  “So, what made you build out here? You aren’t from here.”

  “How can you tell?” he asked in a light tone. She seemed to be relaxing, not putting off that vibe that said “go away”, which she tended to do all too often.

  “You have an accent.”

  Snorting, he glanced at her as he drove along Spanking Loop. “I do not.”

  “Yes, you do!” She laughed. “It isn’t always there, but sometimes the New Yorker in you comes out.”

  Chuckling, he shook his head. “On the New York Police Department for fifteen years.”

  “Did you grow up there—oh, what’s that?” she asked, pointing to their largest building. Built as a dome, their clubhouse was the venue for all their town meetings, was a fun place for anyone to hang out – especially the teenagers – and was three stories tall with a basement.

  “That's the Corbin’s Bend Clubhouse.”

  “Wow.” As they drove by, he took a moment to look at her as she stared at it, almost awed. That did not gel with what he thought he knew about her. She always came off with that big city vibe; well, except for the night he took care of her when she was hurting too much. It made him even more intrigued to get to know Ms. Charmagne Kendle.

  “You can’t see it from here, but the movie theatre sits right behind it.”

  “Are they first run films?” she asked, now looking over her shoulder at the receding building.

  “About three months out. There are tons of movie theaters in Denver for first run films.” When they reached Cabner Drive, he turned right and drove to the end, parking alongside what looked like a one-room hut.

  She leaned forward and looked at it. “What’s this?”

  “Our restaurant,” he informed her, grinning as she startled in astonishment. Hopping out of the truck, he was pleasantly surprised when she did not open the truck door herself, though he thought it had more to do with her shock than letting him treat her like a lady. “I should have asked,” he said quickly when she looked at the sign above the door as she got out. “Do you like Mexican food?”

  “Love it,” she said quietly. “You’re sure this is a restaurant?”

  Relieved, he nodded. “When we planned the development, we had a lot of things in mind. Some of those were the restaurants we would attract. If you notice, even though it's smaller than the houses and has no garage, the basic design fits well.”

  Compared to the houses that were several feet away, it did appear small from the outside. Inside, it looked cozy with candlelight flickering in the middle of each round table. There was a maximum seating of fifty, but so far the most Brent had seen at any given time was thirty-five, and that was on a weekend.

  “Two?” Bernie, the hostess asked, smiling at them. She knew everyone in this development, having been the fourth individual to have her contract approved, and as she was almost sixty, the residents mostly took her nosiness as actual interest.

  “Yes, please,” he responded, and, placing his hand at the base of Char’s back, he guided her after the woman walking toward a booth in the back corner. No doubt Bernie was figuring he was on a date. He had never come here with a woman before. Amused, he figured by the time he got home there would be at least five phone calls from his friends, and even more phone gossip amongst acquaintances.

  “Your server will be right with you,” she said, turning so just Brent caught her wink before she walked back into the kitchens.

  “This looks wonderful,” Char said, taking his attention off Bernie and returning it to her. Turning, he smiled as she scanned the menu. “They offer a lot of things for such a small restaurant.”

  “They are subsidized by the development. For guarantee of a twenty-year contract, we agreed to help fund them, and they agreed to consistently serve fine food.”

  A smile crossed her face as she turned to look at him. “Why is this development so important to you?”

  Darla, their server, walked up and placed a glass of water
in front of each of them, as well as a basket of fresh tortilla chips and salsa. “Anything I can get you to drink tonight?”

  Brent raised an eyebrow at Char, asking her preference.

  “Margarita?” she asked Darla, obviously still not expecting the small restaurant to have the items she would expect from a larger city.

  “Regular? Or the Blusharita?”

  “Blusharita?

  Darla grinned. “It’s pink. Kind of tastes like strawberries and has a bit of a kick to it.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Your regular, Brent?” Darla asked, turning back toward him.

  “Yep. How is Danny doing?” he asked before she left to turn in their drink orders.

  She rolled her eyes. “Please tell me you are going to take the teenagers out camping again? That is all he talks about. ‘Mom, Brent is so cool! You should see what he can do with just wood and a piece of flint.’”

  Grinning, he nodded. “Got a week-long campout planned for spring break. I’ll start doing mini classes in January. If he wants, I need a few who have done it before to be my helpers.”

  Her whole face lit up. “Oh, you have just made his year. And mine. He'll be thrilled. It will be like Christmas came early. Now, I'll leave you two to decide what you want… though I am sure Brent will have his usual,” she added with a wink before walking away.

  Chuckling, he turned to Char, whose eyes danced with mirth. “Everyone knows you,” she said, shaking her head. “Doesn’t that get tiresome?”

  “Not at all,” he assured her. “I like knowing the people I'm with. Back in New York, I knew many of the people on my beat. Even the crooked ones. Most of them weren’t bad people. Just in a bad situation. And since I'm on the housing board, the people here meet me first.” He shrugged. “I like our community. It's pretty close. Probably because we have something important in common.”

  “And probably because the head of the housing board likes having a close-knit community,” she added, watching him appraisingly. “That’s actually kind of impressive.”

  “It’s home.” Home was something his family taught him when he was growing up in Denver. When he moved to New York to attend college, which within a year turned to the police academy, his parents were sad to see him go, but encouraged him in his dreams. That they were happy he was now so close had been a given. Though they did not understand what they called his spanking obsession.

  Putting Char’s Blusharita down as well as Brent’s imported lager from Germany – the only non-Mexican drink they served and only because the owner insisted on carrying it once he found Brent’s love of it – Darla picked up a small pad and smiled. “Are you ready to order?”

  Dinner ended up being laid-back and easygoing. Once Char let down her guard, she showed herself to be highly intelligent, interesting, well read, and, even more important, she had a great sense of humor. “I mean it,” she laughed as she sipped on her second Blusharita. “When I was a kid, I had heard the word ogre, and when I saw a word that kind of looked like that, I assumed that was what it was and used it in one of my research papers in eleventh grade. I didn't find out until the teacher called me and my parents in that I had used the wrong word.”

  “What word did you use?” Brent asked, finishing his lager.

  “Orgy.”

  Snorting foam out his nose, Brent burst out laughing, his deep rumble bouncing around the room. Several people who were there tonight turned, smiled, and then turned back to their conversations. He had no doubt they were interested to know who he was here with but were too nice to barge in and ask.

  “I’m sure your teacher wondered what you were learning at home,” he said when his full laugh turned to a chuckle.

  “Well,” she grinned back, “you should have seen her face when I asked, ‘What’s an orgy?’”

  Chapter 4

  His laughter was amazingly infectious. Like that of a little boy. How did a man who had worked fifteen years as a cop in one of the harshest cities in the world retain that part of himself? No matter what her original plan had been at the beginning of the night, Char forgot it relatively quickly. Brent was easy to talk to, with a quick wit and dimples she had not noticed before.

  How had he not been grabbed already? He was definitely a catch.

  As Darla walked up to ask if they wanted anything else, Char watched his easygoing manner with their server. Brent seemed like such a nice guy, not nearly as stuffy as Nathan had been. Maybe it was the Blusharita and maybe it was the whole ambiance of the restaurant, but she was quickly figuring out that the attraction she had wanted to fight had grown inexplicably stronger. So strong, in fact, she hoped he would spend the night. She would love to find out if his sexual expertise was any better than her ex’s.

  The drive home was slow, not that she minded. Except she really wanted to get him into her bedroom. Now.

  “Jon, who runs the movie theater, told me there will be a new movie on tomorrow night, though he wouldn’t tell me what it was. Interested?” Brent asked as he pulled up to her garage.

  “Yes, I am.”

  He shot her a smile that made butterflies erupt in her stomach. “Good to hear.” As she tried to get the butterflies to settle down, he got out of the truck, walked around, and opened her door. The crunch of their shoes on the frozen snow seemed to be the only sound in the world. “Do you have a snow shovel?” he asked as they got to the porch.

  “No. I’ll have to get one the next time I go to Denver.”

  “I’ll bring one over. With the way it snows here, if you don’t start clearing this out, it will be taller than you are by spring. You could fall through and we would never find you,” he teased.

  When they got to her front door, he reached out and placed his hands on her upper arms. “I had a good time tonight, Char.”

  She wanted to say something smart or funny, but the only words that came out of her mouth were, “Me too.”

  He leaned in slowly and as his warm lips touched hers, she grasped onto his shoulders and kissed him back. Their lips moved together softly, breath intermingling, and as they pulled away, she watched the mist from their panting float away on the air. “Do you want to come in?” she asked.

  His gray eyes gazed intensely into hers for a moment before he answered. “Yes.”

  The moment the door was closed behind him, he turned them around to where her back was up against it, and after putting one of his large hands behind her head, he kissed her again, this time lighting her up from the inside out. Her lips opened in a gasp and his tongue pushed inside, flicking hers lightly even as it began to get to know her in a kiss more intimate than any sex she had ever had. Brent was slow, methodical, making sure to touch every surface in her mouth while making it feel as though he were stroking her pussy at the same time.

  How did he do that?

  His mouth moved along her jaw and up to her ear. “How far do you want this to go?” he asked in a deep husky voice that quelled the butterflies but stoked the fire within her, making her wrap her arms around him and grab on.

  “All the way.”

  In one smooth move, he pulled them both away from the door and lifted her up in his arms with one arm under her knees and the other around her shoulders. His head ducked and took her mouth again, and next thing she knew her body was plopped down on her bed and he was leaning over her, his strong arms on each side of her. “Do you want me to undress you? Or do you want me to watch?”

  No guy had ever asked her that. Nathan always undressed facing away from her and waited until she got into bed before he would turn around. Just the thought of Brent watching her undress was such a turn on.

  “Watch,” she whispered, though where she found the strength to do so, she had no idea.

  Gazing into her eyes with a look that made her tremble, he took a step back and crossed his arms, his whole stance making her drool; he looked like a model for some spanking porn. Swinging her legs over the side of her bed, she kicked off her shoes and then wondered,
Can I make this sexy? She had never undressed for a guy before. Slightly shaky, she reached for the hem of her sweater and pulled it up over her head before tossing it to the side. There was no way she could watch him watch her, so she concentrated on unbuttoning her jeans slowly. But when it came to taking them off, she became a little awkward and turned around, bending over as she did so.

  His inhalation made her freeze and then moan as his warm hands rubbed over her buttocks. “Anyone ever tell you that your ass is perfect?” he murmured.

  Still bent over, she looked at him over her shoulder. “Uh, no. Nathan said it was my worst feature. That for as tiny as I was, it was too fat.”

  His eyes, blazing with something that she did not understand but instantly felt herself pulled toward, met hers. “He was an idiot. Each one of your cheeks,” he continued to stroke, “was made by a master’s firm touch.” A low moan left his throat as he bent over and kissed each cheek, making liquid gush from her core. He inhaled again and something akin to a growl rumbled in his chest. “You smell wonderful.”

  When his hands lightly grasped her waist, holding her in place, his lips began to trail up her spine, kissing and licking each ridge.

  “So beautiful,” he murmured as he kept going, slowly lifting her upper body up the higher he went until she was standing straight, and he nibbled on her neck. Her only warning was the feel of his fingers on her back before her bra released and he tipped the straps over her shoulders. The bra fell to the ground, she was pretty sure, but she forgot about it as he took each of her globes in his hands and squeezed lightly.

  “Yes,” she murmured as he pulled her back against him.

  “Warm,” he whispered, “and the perfect handful.” His fingers closed in on her nipples, the surprising sensation making her knees give out. Swinging her up in his arms again, he deposited her on the bed. Then he began to undo the buttons on his shirt. Not once did he turn away, his eyes hungrily taking in her body as he slowly undressed.