Page 40 of Untamed

I will not die in this fucking prison cell.

A rustling noise wakes me with a start. I bolt upright, gasping for oxygen. A soft humming and exhale to my right jerks my gaze sideways. My body tenses as I prepare to face whatever intruder is in my cell. I shove my hand under my pillow, gripping the blade I keep hidden, hovering over the shape in my bed.

The outline of a slim body in the moonlight is under a pile of wavy, distinctly copper-red hair. My blood is still racing, but her steady breathing and her subtle vanilla scent spread a blanket of peace over my nervous system.

Rosie is curled up, sleeping soundly. I reach down, slowly moving a piece of her hair out of her face.

Her sensual, plump lips are parted slightly, long eyelashes resting on the top of her cheeks. She has one of those profiles that are on magazine covers, every feature somehow inexplicably flawless.

The top of the covers is pulled up to her chin. I envy the way she sleeps.

Why isn’t she in Duke’s bed?

My attraction to her is an inconvenience, one I’m growing weary of fighting. Her father’s role in my prosecution and my time in solitary confinement are enough reason for me to hate every Dixon who ever lived.

The fact that she’s had sex with my brother doesn’t make me hate her, but it does guarantee that I’ll never be able to touch her.

The line between hating her and desiring her is growing more blurry with every second I let her work in my house and sleep in my bed.

But, hey, you didn’t have to do two hundred push-ups and take a cold shower to stop the panic.

Whether or not allowing the enemy to sleep in my bed is wise or not is a question for the morning, when I’ve actually gotten enough sleep and I can read her reaction to waking up next to me, no doubt ending up here by mistake after too many glasses of wine. My thoughts are incoherent with lack of sleep. I can’t process this.

Instead of waking her and throwing her out, I lie back down on the pillow, positioning my body toward hers so I can watch the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she inhales. I return the knife to its spot under my pillow.

In the moonlight, it’s easier to pretend that she’s not here to ruin my life and share my weaknesses with the men who want to destroy my ranch. I’d let a grizzly bear sleep in here if it helped me not have flashbacks of waking up in a freezing cell, completely alone in solitary confinement.

A grizzly would be less dangerous than her.

She stirs, shifting slightly toward me and throwing one of her arms out. It latches around her pillow as she shifts over to lie on her stomach, making another sound that goes straight down to my dick.

It was a sleepy moan, a gentle groan of pleasure that I’ve never heard from her lips. It gives me a desperate need to know what she could possibly be dreaming about.

Probably a memory of fucking your younger brother.

It doesn’t stop me from picturing what her eyes look like when she’s being touched in a way she likes.

What does she like?

The vivid dream I had that made me come in my sleep after the night of the wet T-shirt contest infiltrates my dark thoughts. I shift farther away before I drift off to sleep, gripping the sheets between us and having selfishly filthy, hedonistic thoughts about my enemy’s daughter sleeping right next to me.

17

ROSIE

Awarm, heavy arm is wrapped around me. I stir from a deep sleep, not wanting to open my eyes.

I’m so cozy.

Where am I?

I try to recall what happened the night before, drawing the conclusion that there’s no way the arm belongs to Dolly. She’s way too small.

It could be Duke’s … but it feels bigger.

I sigh, hoping that my ex-boyfriend and I didn’t make a stupid decision last night when I finished off the last of the merlot.

My eyes flutter open, bringing into focus the ceiling of the room. The slowly spinning fan is unfamiliar. I tilt my head to the side, sucking in a sharp breath when I see the man sleeping next to me.

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