Page 40 of Chasing the Wild
This man is going to be the death of me.
“I don’t know what you think I need to protect myself from,” I murmur. Soaking up his closeness and the way he feels lyinghere with me like this. As if our bodies just know intuitively how to fit together in the most natural way.
He shifts, disappearing from my side, and I wince at the loss of his heat and weight covering me.
“It isn’t what… it’swho.” Colt straightens up and does that sexy thing where he runs his fingers through his hair before putting his hat back on, and then his hazel eyes hold mine.
“If anyone tries to touch you ever again, don’t hesitate to use that gun on them.”
I barely makeit through the rest of the afternoon in one piece.
By the time we’ve ridden back to the yard, every jolt and shift of the horse beneath me has stoked a fire in my core that refuses to be ignored.
My clit throbs, and I’m so turned on I hastily throw together a meal. Leaving it simmering on the stove, I scribble a note letting Colt know to help himself when he comes in from wherever he’s disappeared off to on the ranch.
I can’t be around him tonight.
The way he pressed himself against me and got so close was like he purposely wanted to push me just to prove a point.
It was as if he wanted to punish me in some way. Or put me through a test.
Lo and behold, I’m a slut for my ex’s father, and I failed that class. Miserably.
Having a shower and hiding out in my bedroom seems like the only options left for me at this stage. I run the water to let it heat. Huffing and yanking at my jeans, socks and sweater, I strip down in the bathroom as steam begins to swirl.
Grumbling to myself, I kick all the offending clothes to land in a heap in the corner.
My entire body feels like a raw nerve ending.
As I step beneath the sluicing water, I let out a shuddering sigh. The thudding on my skin has my eyes dropping closed and I just stand there letting it wash over me from head to toe. I should probably be doing my usual hair care routine, or exfoliating thanks to the dry-ass winter climate, or making sure to hurry up and not spend too long in here.
But right now, I can’t bring myself to do anything because all I see is his face.
There’s nothing but the lingering scent and heat of him damn near imprinted in my brain. Even though there is no possible way that I could be detecting his presence, it still feels like he’s right here beside me.
Seeping through every crack in my defenses and infiltrating my sanity.
I’m a fucking mess.
My eyes flutter open and I grab a handful of body wash from the pump dispenser. Being more than a little forceful with the way I slam down on the top. Why, of all things, did he have to insist on teaching me to shoot a gun? Why would he demand I learn how to do that and act like he was studying me for weaknesses the whole time?
It feels like he’s just trying to find a reason to kick me off his mountain or something.
To prove that I really am just a waste of space and a girl who needs to be sent packing. Worse still, on top of all that tumultuous emotion, is that he views me as belonging to Kayce.
Trying to prevent my mind from imagining what he’s doing right now is impossible. Is he in his own bedroom, doing the same as I am? Would he dare come and confront me and ask me why I’ve snuck off without talking tonight.
Would Colton Wilder walk into this shower and take advantage of the fact he has a young woman under his roof?
Oh, god. Just the thought of that makes my thighs clench and the pulse in my clit intensifies. All of a sudden, I hear it. I hear the sound of the door click, and the brief draft of cool air hits my skin as someone—him—enters the bathroom.
There’s a moment when I spin around, wide-eyed and ask him what he’s doing in here…
But that tiny, frail protest is eaten up when he advances on me. Closing in with his bulk and his strength, he’s got me trapped between his body and the wall.
One hand shoots out to brace against the tiles in front of me, and the tumbling roll of water from the shower flows over my front. My nipples are hard and sensitive as the shower teases each tight bud.
His hands are on me. At my back, he’s solid, immovable, leaning over me and roaming those rough palms down to seek out that hidden space. Fondling the soft swell between my thighs.
