Page 35 of My Secret Santa Dallas

“Three, actually,” Dallas replied. “I’d crossed into Oregon before I went to Nevada.”

I cocked my head, “Why?”

“Temp jobs,” he said, “I’d run out of money by then, even while hitchhiking. Had to get some cash in my pockets before making another move….” He fell silent, those damn fingers tracing the top of the cup lid. I wondered if he knew he was doing it. “It was touch and go back then, but now…”

I felt hesitant pushing this, but it needed to be said, “Are you finally realizing that people here are not lining up to lynch you?”

His brows lowered, and his gaze flashed, “Don’t start with that nonsense.”

I lifted my chin, “You still need to realize that these people do not hate you, so stop looking over your shoulder every moment.”

The steel flashing in his eyes had been expected; what I didn't expect was for him to press me against the wall in the dark. His hands bracketed my face, and his growl seemed to come from the bottom of his gut. “Leaveoff.”

“And what if I don’t?” I asked while my heart kicked up.

The air changed; Dallas was dangerous and exciting. Hot. That harsh set of his eyes stirred something dark inside me that I didn’t want to think about; the grit of his permanent scowl made me want to kiss it away.

“Don’t push me, Blair.”

“Someone has to,” I replied. “Otherwise, how will you get your head out of your ass?”

The playfulness between us from earlier was long gone. A thunderstorm was brewing over Dallas’ face, and I knew I was playing with fire, but fuck me if I didn’t want to fan the flames. Dallas was a stubborn bastard, and I knew that feeling well; he would never move if someone —me— didn’t push him from always teetering on the brink and toward the light.

His jaw worked as he pushed away, stalked five paces away before he spun on his heel and stalked back to me. Roughly grabbing my chin, he ordered. “You need to stay out of my business.”

Was there a word that amalgamated pissed off and turned on? Or could I just call it Dallas? He was red in the face, fuming, but his pupils were dilated with lust. I had to call him out on it.

“Is this your idea of foreplay? Because I’m a little confused. Are we starting early?” I asked.

He glared at me— hard. “You get under my skin.”

I chuckled. “You are flirting. Oh my God.”

“Flirting? Is that what you think I’m doing?” He asked, his left brow inching up. “Really?”

“Are you going to prove me wrong…?” I challenged him. “Or right?”

Chapter Ten

Dallas

Irritated to the point of madness, I spun again, ready to head out the door— but what happened was that, after waiting three seconds to hear birds chirping outside the barn, the rustle of the wind, and the faint grunt of bulls in the distance, I yanked the door closed.

No one was around, and while I knew I would hear guys coming a mile away— I didn’t want to take chances.

Striding back to Blair, I saw her apprehensive gaze; what did she expect me to do to her? Drag her to some godforsaken part of the ranch and become Hannibal Lecter?

If that is what she thought—she was partially correct.

“Dallas?” she asked. “What are you?—”

I grabbed both of her hands and pinned them above her head, bracing her wrists with my forearm and, with the other free hand, slid down to cup her ass. I squeezed and kneaded those perfect globes as her head knocked back on the wall.

“When are you going to stop riling me up?” I asked.

“When you decide to wake up and smell the c-coffee,” Blair replied, and we both heard the hitch in her words. “Or do you want to stay in your bubble, believing a lynch mob is just outside your do?—?”

I didn’t give her a chance to keep going because kissing her hard suddenly became way more pressing. I slanted my lips over hers and claimed her mouth, needing to shut her up and needing to excise the lust inside me. My tongue swept between her lips, tangled with her; I angled her as I wanted, sucking on her lips.

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