Lassoing the Virgin Mail-Order Bride(13)

“Not worried about you,” he clips, keeping his death grip on the wheel, the house coming into view in the distance.

“Oh, so you don’t trust your own men?” I question. He doesn’t seem like he’d keep men on his land he didn’t trust.

“I don’t even trust myself around you.” He looks at me again, his eyes running over my body. I can almost feel them like a touch on my skin as his gaze roams down my legs.

“You seemed in control in the parking lot,” I remind him.

“Only because thinking about anyone seeing you getting all turned on, working that sweet little body over your husband's cock, watching your legs open so easily just for me like they were made to do, rode me harder than the need to strip you bare and f*ck you right there in my truck.”

My mouth falls open at his crude words, and my body comes back to life like it had in that parking lot.

“No one sees that shit. As far as they’re concerned, you spend your days cooking and sewing, and we’re so old fashioned we sleep in double beds.”

“With that mouth, double beds will become a reality real soon.”

“You could try, but I saw how quickly your body gave into me. I had to pull you off me.” He says it like it’s a sweet reminder.

“Oh, you…” I stutter, unable to think of what I should say. I opt to just smack his arm, which only makes him smile widely, pissing me off. I want him mad, too. Or am I turned on? Grr. I don’t know up from down with this man.

“Anyways, like I was saying, I’ll hang out with whoever I like.” I turn to look out the window, happy we’re almost out of this truck together. It’s like all we can do is kiss or fight.

“Alright then.”

I snap my head around to look at him suspiciously. That was way too easy of a give.

“Alright?”

“Yeah, good luck traveling to wherever his new place of employment might be.”

“You wouldn’t!”

The truck comes to a stop in front of the house. “Oh, when it comes to you, I don’t think there isn’t a lot I wouldn’t do. Like I told you, you’re mine.”

“Brute,” I throw at him for the millionth time today.

He leans in towards me, and I know what’s coming. I slap my hand over my mouth and scurry to the other side of the truck. He wasn’t using that trick on me again. He throws his head back and laughs loudly. His laugh is deep and rich, and I have to clench my teeth to keep from smiling.

“You’re unreasonable.” I grab the door handle, but stop when Cash’s hand comes down on my thigh.

“I know you’re mad, sweetheart, but let me help you down.”

“I can get out of a truck by myself, Cash.”

“No, you’ll wait for me to help you, and you just proved my point.”

“What point was that? That you think I’m a child?”

“There’s nothing childlike about you.” The hand on my thigh slides a little higher, his thumb running little circles, making my skin break out in goose bumps even in this crazy Texas heat. “That even if I ask nicely you’ll still fight me, so I might as well just manhandle you.”

And that’s what he does as he pulls me from the truck, then throws me over his shoulder.

“Not that I don’t like doing it. Keep fighting me. I like picking you up and putting you where I want you.”

I wiggle in his hold like I’m trying to get free, just glad he can’t see my face and the stupid smile I’m sporting when I should be yelling at him for a list of things.

“Cash?”

The sound of a soft female voice stills my movements.

“Miss June,” I hear Cash say, stopping in his tracks. I push some of my hair out of my face and try to see where the voice came from. That’s when I see a girl who looks maybe a few years older than me standing on the porch. I have no idea how I missed her when we pulled up. Maybe she came from around the house or something.

Her eyes go to me, catching me sneaking a look at her. They narrow for a flash, so quick I’m not even sure if it happened. But one thing is clear. She’s been crying. Her eyes are a little red, but the make-up she has coated on still looks good.

Everything about her is put together. She looks like the country girl next door. Pink cowboy boots lead up to legs that seem to go on for days, ending in a pair of short jean shorts. I wouldn’t be surprised if she turned around and I could see her butt cheeks.

Even with her toned long legs, she has hips and a bust. Some women have all the luck. I had some curves before, but nothing like she has.

“Hey, Cash, I wondered if we could talk for a minute.” She sniffles again, and a pang of guilt runs through me. Something is clearly wrong. “Alone,” she adds.

“Busy with my wife at the moment,” is all he says, clearly dismissing her.

“Cash, she’s crying,” I whisper quietly so only he can hear me.

He just lets out an irritated huff like he couldn’t care less.

“Don’t be a jerk.” This time it’s not a whisper. He pulls me off his shoulder, sliding me down his body. His eyes train on mine. He reaches up and brushes a few curls out of my face. The act is so gentle, so incongruous coming from a hulk like him. I get lost in him for a minute, almost forgetting there’s a woman behind me watching us.