Dean
I should feel bad about the bite mark on her shoulder and the imprint of the brick wall on her face, right?
But the only thing on my mind is the way Hannah looked when she watched me fuck this blonde in a dark hallway.
Did that turn her on? Does she dream about me the way that she has haunted my dreams every night since I held her in my arms?
“Call me when you’re back in town.” I glance down, wincing at the way her lipstick has smudged in a curve up her cheek.
Her long, red nails scrape against my shirt as she slides a paper in my shirt pocket.
Her number, no doubt. I give her a tight nod while fastening my belt around my hips.
She leans up to kiss me, but I turn to the side, her lips landing on my cheek.
I don’t miss the disappointed look in her eyes when she tries to catch mine.
Taking the hint, she pulls her shirt back up and fixes her denim skirt before stomping off and disappearing into the main walkway.
Resting my head against the wall, I give her some time to walk away before I follow her out.
But instead of turning to the exit, I take off in the direction I saw Hannah go.
I closed my eyes for half a second, and when I opened them again, she was gone.
Something about her running off triggered a primal need for me to catch her.
“You can run, darlin’, but when I catch you, you better hold on tight.
” I mutter as I turn into the practice arena.
The main lights are off, but a tiny sliver of light spills out from under the tack room door.
A shadow moves across it, setting my blood on fire.
The look on her face is priceless as I push open the door and find her standing in the middle of the room.
A canvas backpack is clutched against her chest, doing nothing to hide the heavy breaths she takes.
The room isn’t that big. In a couple long strides, I’d be chest to chest with her.
A few saddle racks take up most of the floor space.
Hooks hang on the walls, weighed down by leads and halters.
Barrels of oats and feed line the wall to the left.
She looks at me with a fire in her eyes that feeds the feral part of me, the part of me that grows hard just looking at her.
I’ve been chasing this woman for years, and now that she’s in front of me, I can’t decide what to do to her first.
“What do you want, Wilder?” Her voice trembles for a split second before she clears her throat and looks at me with a confidence that makes me proud.
I can see in the way she tries to look everywhere but at me that she is wrestling with her morals.
As if part of her knows what she witnessed, what she did, was wrong, but another part of her enjoyed it.
Enjoyed watching me handle someone like that, speak filthy things in their ear while looking into her eyes.
With the heel of my boot, I kick the door closed and turn the lock on the handle.
Her eyes flare, but she puts up her wall and holds her ground, popping out a hip.
Fuck, if that doesn’t make my cock try and reach for her. Her fire matches mine.
“No, darlin’,” I drawl as I lean back against the wall and cross my arms over my chest. Her eyes shift down and I feel them travel over the expanse of my chest. “I think the better question is, what do you want?” She rolls her eyes, dropping her backpack to the floor with a heavy thud.
“You seemed to like what you saw back there.”
Then her eyes fly to mine, going distant like she’s reliving some memory.
“You,” she whispers. Tipping my head to the side, I don’t answer, letting my back rest against the door, watching the wheels turn.
“It was you who carried me out two years ago after my fall, wasn’t it? ” Those big brown eyes bear into mine.
“You don’t remember?” It all makes sense now, why she didn’t reach out, why she looked shocked and confused when we stood across from each other the other weekend.
“I’ve…” She shakes her head, her thoughts trailing off as she studies the floor under her boots. “No. I don’t.” Her eyes meet mine, full of sadness. It breaks my fucking heart, and I have to dig my heels into the concrete floor before I close the space between us and haul her into my arms.
“You were in pretty bad shape, I’m not surprised you don’t remember.
” I didn’t come in here expecting to have a fucking heart to heart, but everything about this girl has me breaking all my rules.
“But yes, darlin’. It was me.” We study each other for a while, each unsure how to process the realization she’s come to.
I can imagine her shock, that after all these years, she’s finally met who picked her up out of the dirt.
And now she’s locked in a room with him after just catching him balls deep in another woman.
Nodding her head a few times, she blinks away the memory, “Well…” Wiping a rogue tear from her cheek, she stands a little taller and squares those shoulders.
“Thank you for that.” Her boots rush across the floor, but skid to a stop when I take a step in her direction.
Hannah tries to slide past me, but I quickly step to the side, blocking her exit.
Something about the way she closed up so quickly, the way she’s trying to run out of this room like she can’t stand to be around me, has me curious. “I think you remember more than you’re letting on.”
“You’re pretty full of yourself aren’t you, cowboy .
” The way that word sounds rolling off her tongue has my knees buckling.
A dark part of me wants to taint this perfect little rodeo star.
My fingers itch to bend her over, but I curl my hands into fists, praying I have the strength to hold back just a bit longer.
“Tell me…” Taking another step towards her, I let my words hang heavy between us.
When my boots touch the toes of hers, I stop and lean in, my hands gripping the saddle rack behind her.
I risk a glance down and smirk the moment I realize she’s not wearing anything under her thin, cotton tee.
The neckline gapes just enough for me to see her bare breasts, her nipples rubbing against the fabric with each deep breath.
I whisper in her ear, “Are you wet after watching me fuck another woman, wishing it was you my cock was buried in?” Her mouth drops open and she shoves me hard in the chest. The heat from her palms seeps into my soul.
“You’re sick! Completely and totally deranged, you know that?
” I chuckle at her insult, but when she bends to grab her backpack and tries to move around me for the second time, I throw an arm out and pull her roughly back in front of me.
“You even smell like her !” Her words are laced with disgust, except her body pushes into me like it’s been waiting for me after all this time.
My lips stretch across her skin. “After I’m done with you, you’ll be the last woman I’ll ever smell like.
” She stills in my arms. “You may have everyone else fooled with your perfect scores and perfect smile, but I know deep down you want someone to show you what it feels like to be handled.” Running my nose up her throat, I watch as she swallows, wanting so badly to feel her pulse throb under my tongue.
“What it feels like to be dominated.” Her lips part and her eyes close.
Closing my palm around her neck and squeezing, I watch as the spur tattoo flexes on the back of my hand.
I never intended for it to turn into a necklace when I got it, but damn does it look good against her flesh.
Her smooth, velvet skin melts into my rough hands, and I can’t think of a prettier sight.
I mutter against her neck, “To be used in such a delicious way it makes you feel powerful.” Her legs cross between us and I run a hand down her waist to her hips. “Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you don’t crave the idea that you, and you alone, hold the power to bring a man to his knees.”
“Fuck you.” She pushes against me again, lacking the enthusiasm she held before.
In an instant, I spin her and bend her over the saddle rack.
Her arms fly out in an attempt to catch herself, but I grip both of her hips in my hands and pull her flush against me.
Her breath catches when she feels my body’s reaction against her ass.
I give her a hard smack, my palm landing hard against her denim clad ass, the sound vibrating off the walls.
She lets out a soft moan before trying to wiggle from my grip.
“Your words say one thing, darlin’, but the sounds you make say something else.
” I smack her again, and this time, she sags against the wood bars.
“That’s it,” I whisper into her hair as I lean over her, taking the chance to finally get a lungful of how she smells.
Fuck , she smells like rain. Petrichor, my mama used to say on an exhale whenever that first drop of rain would soak into the dry ground.
Visions of me and Owen riding through a rainstorm on our horses, racing to get back to the barn before the skies open up pass before me.
Green Haven Ranch flashes in my mind. Home.
When she leans back into me, I can’t help but groan pushing myself against her, seeking relief from the feelings washing over me.
“Tell me, rodeo queen.” Her pulse hammers beneath my hold.