Page 16 of Filthy and Fierce

I lift my eyebrows. “Oooh, it must be something good. What did he do? Shirk responsibility? Forget to feed something? Leave a gate open?”

“Nope,” he answers.

I reach across the cab of the truck and slap him on the arm. He looks down where I touched him, and his muscles tighten. I ignore his reaction. “Come on, tell me.”

He’s gritting his teeth so hard I think he might break one. “Fine. You wanna know? I heard him telling Eddie that you were hot and he wants you.”

I sit up a little taller. “And you what? Told him off? Told him I was his boss’s daughter and he shouldn’t talk about me that way?”

He grunts. “Looking back, that’s what I should have done.”

I clasp my hands together in my lap. “What did you say, Dixon?”

He looks over at me worriedly. “You’re not going to like it.”

Now I do tense up. What does that even mean? He is staring straight ahead, and I don’t have to ask him again because hestarts to talk me through the morning. “I didn’t sleep well last night, knowing you were right down the hall. I knew you were in pain, and it was partly my fault.”

I roll my eyes. This again? “Dixon, that’s ridiculous. You weren’t too rough with me. We had sex three times in one night.”

He looks over at me. “It was your first time.”

I nod. “Yeah, but I wanted it. All three times, I was practically begging you for it. It’s as much my fault as it was yours, but what’s this got to do with what happened with Carl?”

“I punched him… and then told him he better never look at you or talk about you like that again.”

I shrug. “Well, that’s not so bad. I mean, you shouldn’t have hit him, but?—”

“And then I told him that you were mine and I’d kill him if he disrespected you like that again.”

I shake my head. I couldn’t have heard him right. “I’m sorry. Did you just say you told him I was yours?”

He reaches across the console and grabs my hand. “I did.”

I have so many questions. I want to ask him what that means. I want to ask him for how long and are we going to hide this from my dad, but I don’t say anything.

He squeezes my hand. “Say something.”

I thread our fingers together. “I think right now, you need to concentrate on your ride today. We can talk about—that—later.”

He doesn’t like it, that much is obvious, but I’m not going to get into emotions and feelings right now. There’s no way I’m going to tell him how I feel and then have him tell me hedoesn’t feel the same. Him saying I’m his can mean anything. Like he doesn’t want to share me while we’re doing whatever we’re doing.

So instead of getting into all that, I change the subject. “Do you want to talk about your ride today? Who are you hoping to draw?”

He looks over at me, and for a second I wonder if he’s going to let me change the subject, but he shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll take down whichever one I draw.”

I laugh because the man sure is confident, and I know he has reason to be. He’s one of the best bulldoggers in the South. I lean back and put my feet on the dash.

He groans and lets go of my hand and then slides his fingers up my thigh. “How are you feeling today?”

Like a lush, I open my legs wider. Geez, I might as well pull my shorts off and give him the access he needs. “Thank you for last night. Whatever that is you put on me really helped.”

He squeezes my thigh. “You should probably wait a few days before…”

I laugh again. “We’ll see. I dunno. The other night was so good, I might be addicted.”

He groans again. “Fuck, we need to change the subject again. You’re killing me here. I’m not going to be able to wrestle a steer with a hard dick.”

I sit up in my seat and lean over the console. “I can probably help you with that later.”

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