Page 3 of Savage Heart

His father blinked at him, then sneered.

“You think you can kill me, boy? You ain’t got the balls to kill me. You’re just like your ma. Weak. And I’m gonna beat the weak out of you, you little shit. Just like I di—”

The sound of the rifle’s retort blasted through the room and out the house, echoing across the barren farmland like a shout.

The blood on his pa’s shirt was now his own.

Twelve Years Ago….

Gasping, Elizabeth Simpson took a step back from the warm, hard, delicious smelling wall she’d just collided with. Looking up…and up, she met a gaze that made her breath catch, and her heart stop, and her whole damn body string tight as piano wire.

Emerald green. Intense. Flooding with humor…and heat.

Oh Lord.

The giant—at least a foot and a smidge taller than her five foot five—smirked down at her with lips too soft and plump to be masculine but definitely worked.

“Hey there, darlin’,” the man said, and Liz knew what spontaneous human combustion felt like.

Smelled amazing, tall, broad shoulders, trim waist, flat abs, pale blonde scruff on his chiseled jaw, sun-kissed blond hair shorn close to the sides of his head, and a little longer on top…and that fucking good ol’ boy accent? Seriously? The man could not be real.

Speak, dummy!

Swallowing, Liz lifted her hand in a pathetic wave and croaked, “H-hey.” How lame! “Sorry for running into you.”

The urge to slap her forehead and burrow into the sticky floor of the dive bar overwhelmed her.

The man chuckled, deep, raspy, and clit energizing. Clitter-izing?

“Not a problem at all, darlin’, especially since I got to run into you.” Dimples! He. Had. Dimples! Two of them! The man’s smile should be illegal, especially since he was aiming it at a woman…an easy woman, apparently, since her body was all gooey. “What’s a classy woman like you doin’ here?” the sexy man drawled, then his words finally entered her brain.

Classy woman?Liz snorted, her hand flying to her mouth, barely catching the sarcastic laugh that followed after. “Classy?” She shook her head, her smile curling. “I seriously look classy?” She Vanna-ed her outfit, which consisted of loose cutoff shorts, a racer back tank in burnt orange, scuffed, black Chucks, and her hair in a sloppy bun on top of her head. She wasn’t wearing a lick of makeup, and she was curvy as the back roads in country songs. She’d come to Tipped to drink and let loose for one night, so she was dressed for being poured into a taxi, not for picking up a one-night stand.

Though…she couldn’t take her eyes off the man in front of her, and he wasn’t taking his eyes off of her, either. Wearing a leather vest over a well-worn, dark blue Henley that stretched over his chest and belly like it was trying to be one with his hot flesh, and a pair of jeans that looked washed enough times to wrap around thighs so thick she could only picture how they’d flex as he pounded into her. Her lady bits pulsed, dripping wetness into her practical cotton panties.

Damn…he’s trouble!

The man reached out, curled his long, thick finger under her chin, making her body catch fire from a single touch. He liftedher chin, bending down until their mouths almost touched. She couldn’t breathe—what the hell is happening right now?

“I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen…and I want to take you home,” the man said, and everything inside Liz melted. She met his gaze once more, caught up in it, and was floored by the truth shining there. Unable to look away, her heart pounding away in her chest, her mind whirling, she felts something stir deep inside her, something she never thought she’d feel—not so soon. She was only twenty, she’d had a few boyfriends over the years, butneverhad sheeverfelt the instant, bone-deep connection she felt to him. The desire washed over her, scorching her blood, making her breasts swell, and her pussy throb—and in public, no less! “What’s your name, darlin’?”

She heard Tom and Lucy’s voices bickering about psych class over the Willie Nelson song playing from the ancient jukebox, and remembered she wasn’t there alone, and certainly not for hooking up. Sucking in a breath so she didn’t croak like a toad again, she answered, “Liz…but I’m not—”

He brushed his lips over hers, making her words and breath stop. “Name’s Erik…and if you’re going to tell me you ain’t going home with me tonight, you’re lyin’ to meandyourself, baby.”

He pressed another kiss to her mouth—slow, hot, sensuous. His tongue licked the seam of her lips, and she opened them at his sensual yet silent command. He groaned and dove in, ravaging her mouth. His hand gripped the back of her neck, and the other cupped her jaw, holding her in place for the plundering of her life. She gripped the leather vest for dear life as her legs gave out, but he simply wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her into him, crushing her aching breasts against the hardness of his chest, and her belly against the large, rock-hard cock in his jeans. He groaned, grinding his erection against her soft belly, and she gasped, opening her mouth wider—thenhe took and took, his tongue dominating hers, sipping then devouring, nipping her bottom lip, then lavishing it with expert licks—the man was a master with his mouth, and he knew it.

A shout from behind them made her tense, and she jerked away from him, breaking the kiss. She sucked in air through swollen, throbbing lips, her hot face growing even hotter at the look in Erik’s devastating, green eyes.

There was a predatory hunger on his darkly beautiful face, a hardness to his features that told her he was holding himself back. His eyes glinting green steel, he grabbed her hand, rasping, “Tell your friends you’re leavin’, darlin’.” No nonsense, no give or take—it was a command from a man who demanded to be obeyed. An alpha. She shuddered, her peaked nipples aching at the zing of dark need that jolted through her at his words.

Yeah…definitely trouble….

That night, she rode the back of a bike for the first time, the power rumbling, throbbing, vibrating between her legs the precursor for what was to come. By the time they got to her tiny, one-bedroom apartment, she was so worked up, she was ripping his clothes from his body before he even got the door closed behind them. And he seemed just as determined to get her naked; for such a large man with such large hands, his fingers were deft at removing bras in a single, expert move. And her shorts and panties hit the floor with a quickness that made her dizzy.

God, what is happening?

Naked, her body on fire, pressed up against the wall just inside the door, she stared up at the man who’d stolen her breath, her commonsense, and her fucking sense of self-preservation—but in that moment, she didn’t care. She could only feel—her body and heart in concert, a symphony of want and need—for one man.

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