Page 87 of The Runaway and the Rugged
Instead, it had quite the opposite effect as the corner of his mouth twitched.
“I don’t want that either, Outlaw. I just want you safe from touchy assholes who lift you onto tables.”
I swallowed.
“I shouldn’t have gone up to him, but I didn’t expect him to do… that.” My voice trembled with the wave of humiliation that surged within me. And it didn’t help that the hopeful smile I captured on Garth’s face had suddenly fallen and was replaced with a clenched jaw.
“A woman shouldn’t have to worry about that kind of shit, and I promise you it ain’t goin’ to happen ever again.” He sounded sincere.
Dangerous.
A sudden memory from last night crossed my vision, his tone, his anger, and the rough jerky motion I felt when I was in his arms as if he had either kicked or hit someone.
And by someone, the grabby guy who had hauled me onto a table.
A sharp, disbelieving gasp tore from my throat.
“You hurt him, the man who touched me, didn’t you?”
His nostrils flared at the mention of him touching me.
“Yeah.” He shifted to stand taller. “Stopped me on the way out and wouldn’t stop runnin’ his mouth.”
My god, he truly is my protector.
“What…” I gulped. “What did you do?”
A bead of sweat broke out across my forehead. I was a complete mess with terrible breath, a snarly head of hair, and a dress that smelled like stale cigarettes and beer. Yet, Garth was looking at me differently, as if I weren’t the disheveled gross woman standing before him, but instead something else entirely.
“What did I do?” His voice dropped to a sinful octave, sparking my thighs to quiver with anticipation. “I can tell you what I wanted to do.”
He took a confident step toward me, leaving me utterly breathless.
“What… What did you want to do?”
Another slow, drawn-out step closer and I swear I could smell the arousal and heat emitting from him.
“Wanted to show him that he had no right to touch what ain’t his.”
My heart flipped.
“That the woman in my arms wouldn’t look twice at a wannabe fuckin’ cowboy like him.”
Jesus.
“Especially when she has the real fuckin’ deal waiting at home.”
He stopped just shy of my toes, his big, mountainous body nearly pressed against mine as I sought out to find air, let alone words.
“Garth…” I moaned, desperate for anything he would give. Eyes thick and heavy with desire, I rose onto the tips of my toes, craving his mouth on mine. Yearning for a taste of forbidden, even if just for a fleeting moment.
“Emelia,” he groaned, my name sounding that of a desperate, longing man who wanted more than anything to take from me what he desired most. “Christ, you fuck me up, Outlaw. Makin’ me want things I shouldn’t.”
I knew the feeling all too well.
“One kiss,” I all but panted, hovering closer and closer to his lips. “One kiss and I’ll stop. I’ll stop making you want things.”
I was pleading, begging, even though I knew I couldn’t stop myself from wanting him. It sounded like an impossible task.
