Raging Heart On (Lucas Brothers #2)(97)

She’s not mine to have. She never will be.

“Wouldn’t it make more sense to go that way? It will take us to the road quicker,” she grumbles when she makes it back to me. She looks annoyed, but sexy as hell at the same time.

“We’re in Florida, in marsh and swamp lands,” I explain to her, taking her by the arm and pulling her back the way we were headed to begin with.

“I’m not exactly stupid,” she grumbles.

“Well, then you’re apparently not originally from Florida because there are snakes in the trees that could wrap around your pretty body pretty easily.”

“I…uh…I’ve seen them on the news. I was trying not to think about them. Thanks for the image though, you’re a real pal,” she huffs and keeps walking.

I notice she’s limping and look down at her feet. It’s the damn shoes; even without the heels she’s going to have blisters. I shouldn’t care. I find I do, which is annoying.

We walk for another hour, and we’ve not said two words to each other in that whole time. I can tell Tess is getting tired. Her steps are starting to stumble, and I hear her stomach growl for about the fourth time. I should offer to stop, but I don’t. I’m pushing her. I want her to ask me when she needs something. I like the idea of her coming to me. Hell, I want to see how far she goes before she breaks.

“Max can we please stop and catch our breath?”

I ignore her. I grew up in this area. I know exactly where I’m at, and I have plans to let her rest ahead, but I want to see how far she’ll go.

“Max, please.”

She doesn’t mean it sexually, and still, when her soft voice calls my name and combines it with the word please, I get a vision of her chained to my bed, her body naked and glowing from being rode hard and my face buried between her legs. My cock throbs just thinking about it.

Her stomach rumbles again, and I know I need to search for some food. More importantly, I need to clear my head, before I down her here and f*ck her. That can’t happen. It just can’t. I’ll let her rest for a bit, and then we can move on. I know where to take her, the trouble is the cops will also know to look for me there. So, we absolutely can’t stay long.

I am actually surprised; I would have figured they would have been on our heels by now. There’s a part of me that is disappointed they aren’t. I may not be letting Tess go for some reason, but I know she needs to. I guide her to the left of our path, and we start walking in that direction.

“I thought you said we shouldn’t go off the path?” She asks, exhausted.

“I needed a breather,” I lie.

“Oh, thank God,” she says.

“Don’t get excited. It will be a quick break.”

She doesn’t reply. Eventually, I weave around to the small area that I used to hunt in when I was younger. It’s a small spring of water under a large tree. I used to love this spot, once, long ago in a different life. I guide her over to the ground, applying pressure so she’ll sit down. “If you run off, you’ll regret it,” I inform her coldly. It should scare her. I don’t think it does.

“Sadly, I can’t right now,” she sighs morosely, hissing as she takes her shoes off. Her feet do look nasty. They’re covered in blood and red swollen blisters. I can’t stop myself from bending down on the ground and helping to take her shoes off. Then I shift her and ease her closer to the water, letting her feet fall into the cool water. “Am I going to get some kind of infection and lose my toes because I’m soaking them in swamp water?” she asks, but her eyes are closed, and she seems relaxed. I shake my head because she is a strange combination of a woman. I don’t think I’ve encountered anyone like her before.

“It’s a spring, probably more purified than the water that runs out of your faucet at home,” I tell her, getting up to go in search of the real reason I decided to stop here.

“I wouldn’t drink water that had my feet in it,” she calls out from behind me.

“You will if you’re thirsty. This might be the last water we have for a long time.”

“Couldn’t you have told me that before you put my feet in it? Besides, on TV, they always have to prepare the water. Shouldn’t we boil it or something?”

“You got matches?” I question sarcastically.

“I’m suddenly not thirsty.”

I leave with a smile on my face. I don’t stay away long. I don’t trust her to run off. Even if part of me is wishing she would. This constant war inside of me, over the woman, is driving me batty. Would it all change if I let myself have her, just once? I come back to the spring with my hands full of food I hand her one hand full and keep the other for myself.

“What are these?”

“Sea grapes.”

“Sea grapes?” She asks like it’s something from Mars. She holds one up to her face and turns it around inspecting it. She brings it up to her nose and sniffs. “Should we wash it off or something?”

“Sure, you have the water your feet are in.”

“I could hate you,” she grumbles, and it’s cute and all, but she should hate me. I kidnapped her. I do not understand the dynamic we have going on between us. I need to get her out of my head. I need to make sure there is a wall between us.

“I’m sure you say that to all the men who kidnap you,” I say mainly to remind her of our situation. I think it does because, for a second, she gets a strange look on her face. Then she delicately bites into the grape. Her face is full of concentration, and she must decide she likes it because she plops what remains of the small morsel in her mouth and goes for the next one.