Page 12 of Ride 'Em Hard
“Really?” He bends so close I feel his breath against my ear. “How are you going to walk?”
Well, now that he asked, it’s an excellent question. Turns out the walk from Doc’s place to this cabin out back is much longer than I thought. I can’t imagine hobbling in the dark on my crutches, navigating over the rocks on uneven ground the way Chase is. “Well, at least slow down. You’re running around like a maniac.”
“And why do you think that is?”
“I don’t know. “Maybe because youarea maniac?”
“It’s freezing out here and you’re only wearing a T-shirt.”
“Oh,” I say. Oh, ohh... Is it possible Chase is chivalrous? I hadn’t considered that.
We round a corner, my head banging on Chase’s arm as he strides toward a cabin that looks, in the faint light coming from inside, identical to the one we just left, only smaller. The closer we get to the door, the stronger my flight-or-fight instinct starts to kick in. Sure I can’t walk, but...
Chase rushes up the steps and kicks the door open with his boot. The door bangs against the adjoining wall.
Shit. There’s only one bed and it takes up almost the entire room. There’s nowhere to run. A fire’s already burning in the wood stove, making the room feel wonderfully cozy, and I have to remind myself that this situation really isn’t very romantic. I sure as hell don’t want to acknowledge that all the adrenaline in my body, and the thought that maybe Chase is trying to help me in the only way an alpha cowboy-movie star knows how, is kind of a turn-on.
Chase takes off his hat, flings it on a table and boots the door shut.
“You’re acting liking a fucking caveman. You didn’t have to kick the door.” Has he lost all his senses now that he’s not filming? Is his Hollywood bad-boy act not really an act after all?
He gently lays me down on the bed, grabs a pillow and tucks it under my sprained ankle so it’s elevated. Chase’s emerald eyes latch on to mine with such intensity they sear into me, making me reach for a breath that isn’t there. A flushing surge of heat rushes down from neck to my pussy, and I’m still glued to his stare. The moment feels like a week.
It’s only when I feel his body move over mine that I realize my arms are still wrapped around his neck and my lips have involuntarily parted. My heart is pumping so hard, I’m sure he can hear it.
“I think you’d be more comfortable on the floor instead of grinding your dick into me.” I know I’m being dramatic because he’s just lying on top me, not exactly grinding.
“You don’t want me off you, honeypot. You want togetoffwithme,” he says, low and raspy. I snap out of my lust-induced trance and launch into plan B. I reach into my panties and grapple with the knife I stole from Doc’s medicine bag just in case. Gripping the handle, I keep it by my side, feeling the cold metal against my thigh.
“You make one more move and I’ll use this.” I bring the knife up so he can see I’m not fooling around. “I swear I will.” The blade glistens in the firelight.
Chase appears genuinely stunned. He looks over at the knife and then back to me, staring down into my eyes. Both his hands are on either side of me like he’s about to do push-ups. His knee is between my legs.
“Where the hell did you get that?”
“From Doc. I stole it,” I hiss. “Because I justknewI might need it.”
“Where the hell have you been keeping it?”
I’m not about to tell him I folded it in a facecloth in Doc’s bathroom and tucked it into my panties. “None of your damn business. I’m warning you, I’ll use it.”
“Do you think I’d actually hurt you after protecting you all day, after riding all those miles to bring you here?” I’ve got to admit, Chase looks awfully convincing, but it is just an act? It’s hard to tell because his face is so goddamn handsome. “Put the knife down.”
“No.” I tighten my grip around the knife’s handle.
“Put it down before you hurt yourself,” he says smugly, seemingly not guilty, or worried, at all.
Now that I think about it, I’m not sure I have the killer instinct, or if I even know how to do it. How does one cut someone’s flesh? Do I just bring the knife in front of his neck and slice it like a piece of bread? I don’t know what I’m thinking, or doing for that matter. Those painkillers started to kick in at the cabin when I grabbed the knife and now I’m really feeling woozy.
I study his throat, wondering how on earth anyone ever cuts someone else’s skin, and Chase catches me. As if reading my mind, he hooks me into his eye-snare again. And damn it, it’s impossible to look away. Chase looks so innocent, and he seems sincerely hurt. If Chase is acting, he’s so good he makes me stop and check myself.
I’m not a murderer, and Chasedidgo out of his way to bring me here. Can I trust him? “Do you swear you won’t hurt me?”
His gaze softens. “Only if you want me to.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means I’m not going to hurt you. We’ll do anything and everything you want to do. And nothing you don’t want to do.”
