Bound for Me (Be for Me #4)(14)

He said nothing. Nor did she. She couldn’t—was still trying to process what they’d just shared. It had been so rough, yet so gentle. All those kisses?

All her animal instincts had been met in that utterly physical half hour, but as reality returned, doubts needled their way in.

She’d been so unrestrained. So uncontrolled. So loud. She’d not given a damn. He’d offered and she’d taken what she wanted. Embraced it all and loved every second of it. Only now she felt vulnerability rise. She’d exposed herself in a way she never had before. Instinct screamed at her to build a defense. She drew a steadying breath and sat up, tried to look into his shadow-hidden eyes. “Tell a soul and I’ll—”

Oh hell, her voice was croaky.

“What? Break my balls? You just did.” He laughed. His voice too held a roughened edge. “Simmer down Sugar, I already told you no one will know. I don’t kiss and tell.” His hands stroked down her back, not skin to skin but over her shirt. Aiming to soothe rather than stir. “Relax.”

He had already told her that. And he deserved better than the prickly crap she was giving him now. Trouble was, she didn’t know how to handle this situation. It was the first time in ages that she’d had sex. The best sex she’d had in her life. Which kinda meant she needed to escape asap. Because she wasn’t about to let her happy hormones make her go overboard for him.

So what was the protocol? How did she get out of here as fast as possible without being too abrupt?

“Where can I drop you?” He seemed to sense her growing discomfort.

“Oh.” She licked her lips and tried to shift back from him. She lifted on her knees, her sprits inwardly sinking as he left her body. She quickly wriggled to slip her panties back in place. “Nowhere. I’ll walk from here.”

“That’s not happening.”

“Of course it is. You may not have noticed, but I have two legs, two feet, all fully functioning.”

“I’m extremely aware that your whole body functions spectacularly, but I’m still giving you a lift home.”

“Thanks anyway, but I’d prefer to walk.” She couldn’t quite see, but she was certain he’d just rolled his eyes. She ground her teeth. “There’s no crime in Summerhill—”

She broke off at his laughter.

“Sugar, it’s not safe for you to walk these streets this late at night.” He sighed as if she were stupid.

She tensed and tried to shift off his lap. Because she was not stupid. She could take care of herself.

His hands stroked more firmly down her back, still supposedly soothing, but holding her in place at the same time. “It’s not safe for anyone to walk out at this time of night..”

“I have pepper spray.” And if he wasn’t careful, she’d test whether that was still functioning in a minute.

“That’s not going to save you from the snow,” he replied, amusement rippling through him. “It’s not just people you have to protect yourself from here, it’s the weather as well.”

She took advantage of his relaxed moment to quickly slither off his lap and onto the seat beside him. “Look out the window, it’s a clear sky. I’ll be fine.”

“You could still slip and fall. Hit your head. Lie there unconscious and get hypothermia and be halfway to dead before morning.”

“Wow. And you told me not to dramatize.”

“This isn’t the safe environment you think it is, this village is clinging to the edge of a massive mountain. You have to think about all the possibilities and take precautions.”

“I’ve managed the walk home every night so far without incident…”

“And tonight you don’t have to.”

She glared at him. She did not want to be dropped home, like it was some kind of reward or duty or something. She just wanted to be gone. Now.

“I was just inside you for f*ck’s sake,” he muttered. “But oh no, you’ve got to do the independence thing.” He reached past her and flicked open the car door. “Fine. Be gone, then.”

She laughed at his flash of irritation. It was the only thing she could do. Or she’d cry and crawl back into his arms and ask him to take her to his home and hold her forever. So not happening. He’d already made it clear that wasn’t ever going to happen. And she wasn’t going to make a fool of herself. She wasn’t ever going to need someone in that humiliating way—where you gave up everything you had, would do anything to be with the one you wanted.

For once she couldn’t think of the right come-back. He didn’t deserve her bitch act. But she didn’t want to be needy either. She refused to be needy, even if parts of her were yearning for him again already.

Businesslike. She finally hit on it. That was the way to deal with him. With a polite, businesslike goodbye.

“Thanks,” she said, turning to say farewell. “I had a nice—”

“Don’t you dare,” he interrupted viciously. “No f*cking ‘nice’ manners from you.” With a sharp, vicious movement he leaned across and crushed her mouth with his. Startled, for a second she stiffened, only then his mouth softened and so did she. Heated. He sought pardon with his tongue, stroking deeply, stoking her response. Passionate, carnal. It was like he imprinted his masculine sexuality on her. His damn master kissing skills.