Page 22 of The Rancher's Wedding Betrayal
Evelline pulled back slightly, a smile wobbling up to her lips as she asked, “So it's a yes—"
"You damn well know it is."
"—to being my slave?"
"As long as we're married—" He meant every damn word. "I'll be whatever the hell you want."
"Oh, Hunter..."
She threw her arms around him again, Evelline rising to her toes so she could press her lips to his, the kiss made excruciatingly sweet by the salt of her tears.
How the hell do I tell her about what I've just done?
Chapter Seven
ELEVEN YEARS AGO...
She saw him first, standing at the bottom of the grand staircase, and it had ninteen-year-old Eve freezing in shock, completely unprepared as she was for the sight of her new stepbrother.
Their parents had just gotten married, and this was her first time at the Ferguson Ranch. Her first time meeting Boris’s son. Her first time feeling like someone had just punched her in the gut while simultaneously setting her entire body on fire.
Hunter Ferguson.
Twenty-seven years old. Six-foot-three of pure masculine perfection. Sharp jaw. Broad shoulders. Piercing silver-gray eyes that scanned her from head to toe with cold indifference.
Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no.
She was in trouble. Big, big trouble.
Her body’s reaction was instantaneous and terrifying. Heart racing. Skin tingling. Heat pooling low in her belly, spreading outward until even her fingertips felt warm.
I can’t like him. I CANNOT like him. He’s my stepbrother, for crying out loud!
“So you’re June’s daughter.” His voice was deep, the words clipped. Not a question but an assessment.
“And you’re Boris’s son.” She forced herself to sound bored, unimpressed. “I expected someone...taller.”
His jaw clenched, and foolish or not, Eve liked seeing that she could affect him this way.
Anything was better than indifference.
“You have lipstick on your teeth,” he replied coolly.
She didn’t. She knew she didn’t. But her tongue darted out to check anyway—
And that was when she saw it.
The smirk touching his lips, her arrogant stepbrother scoring a point, and her cheeks burned with a mixture of outrage and humiliation.
I hate him.
But I also want him.
And that left her with a choice to make.
Should she make him hate or want her back?
Easy, Eve thought.
