Page 66 of Chasing the Wild
She’s following my fucking orders from when I tore strips off her that first day.
Right now, I don’t know who to be more furious at. Myself for being such a goddamn asshole, or Layla for being too proud to ask for help.
Reaching out, I try to grab her upper arm and drag her off. “Fuck. Layla, leave it. We need to go.”
“No.” She fights against my hold. Shrugging me off with gritted teeth.
“I said leave it.”
“NO. I’ve almost got it.” Her small frame tries to wrestle to lift the gate, as the freezing wind slices right to the bone.
“You’re going to get both of us fucking killed.” I don’t care about any sort of self-imposed boundaries I’ve tried to put in place about getting close to her again. Right now, it is about getting to safety, so I do the only thing I can do considering the circumstances.
My arm snakes around her stomach, and I haul her away. Dragging Layla back into my body and toward the horses. She’s fighting me and hitting at my arms like a woman possessed.
“It isn’t secured.” Her gloved hands try to wrench my grip off her waist, but I’ve got her clamped against me like a steel bar.“They might get out.” Layla’s furious voice resonates straight through her layers of clothes and into my own chest as her small frame thrashes beneath my hold.
Clumps of snow layer her eyelashes and stick to her mouth, and a part of me wants to wither up and die inside that this girl is trying to be good for me. She’s trying so damn hard to be perfect, for bullshit I growled at her about weeks ago. Is there any worse fucking feeling in the world than this? The only reason I said what I said that day was because I felt like I was losing my mind, being trapped together in the front seat of my truck and unable to reach for her the way I wanted to.
“The gate can fucking wait. Now get on the damn horse.” I keep her trapped against my chest, fighting against the snow and the cold seeping through my bones. Meanwhile, my blood is a raging inferno running through every inch of my skin.
Layla makes a strangled noise, crushed against my front. “Why do I care so much what you think of me?” She spits against the wind. “All I seem to do is want to try not to disappoint you, and yet it’s never enough.”
“You are enough.” My voice comes out cracked as I shove her in the direction of the horse. I want her with me, tucked against me, and in the face of a storm rolling in thick and fast, I’m losing the will to resist.
“No. I’m not. I’m not enough for you. I never will be.”
This isn’t about the ranch or a fucking gate anymore.
“We’ll fix it tomorrow,” I grunt. Not giving her a choice. Being rough and forceful and manhandling every inch of her in order to throw her up to the front of the saddle, quickly tying the other horse to pony behind us, before swinging up directly behind her. It isn’t ideal, two people on one horse is damn hard on an animal. But it’s a straight shot back to the barn, and I don’t like the idea of Layla spiraling out here where I can’t physically hold her tight.
She’s still determined to fight me. Trying to growl and slam an elbow into my gut in an effort to get back down.
“You just want me to suffer.” She squirms and moves against me, and blood rushes to my groin. We’re in the middle of a whiteout, and I’m stuck somewhere between crippling panic like I’ve never known before for this girl’s safety and the overwhelming need to wrap my fingers around her neck and crush her mouth against my own while we freeze to death out here.
“Fuck you. Fuck this place. As soon as I can, I’m leaving.” She snarls and tenses in my arms. Her entire body is rigid with anger and the cold, and I’m the sick asshole who is soaking up every moment of being so close, in spite of the insanity of our circumstances.
Yeah, and I’m hard as stone against the thickness of my pants. There might be a whole lot of winter layers in the way, but my cock reacts, thickening with each jostle of our bodies against one another.
I’m angry at myself. I’m angry at the universe for cursing me with the knowledge that Layla exists. I’m angry with my shitty son for treating her so poorly that she’d even look twice my way.
Leaning forward, I make sure my mouth is right against her ear. “Maybe all you are to me is the punishment I’ve been long overdue for being selfish.” I grit out. “Maybe I’m the biggest asshole you’ll ever meet who wants you to suffer exactly like I am.”
“Well, you got your wish.” Her coldness matches the bleak winter landscape of this mountaintop, and I should be relieved. I shouldn’t be cursing to myself, while gripping the reins tighter, urging the horse to move faster. There are so many reasons for me to be overjoyed that the beautiful girl pressed against my torso has woken the fuck up and realized what an irredeemable bastard I am.
But instead of all that, something is stirring in my gut like a damn hurricane.
There’s a tingling beneath my skin that won’t go away. It buzzes and hums with every moment we draw closer to the peak of the barn, cedar planks and iron lettering partially obscured by white, barely standing out against the sky thrashing with snow and wild wind.
We reach the entrance, and I launch myself off the back of Winnie before we’ve stopped moving. We’re still covered in snow, and flurries eddy around my boots from the open doors. These horses need warmth and to be fed and the tiny girl glares down at me from her position high on the front of the saddle, shaking. Not with cold, but with a desperate kind of anger and rejection.
The grim line of her plump mouth sends a sucker punch straight to my ribs.
I grab the reins of both horses and lead them further inside. Layla’s eyes bore into my skull from where she’s seated.
“You’re right. Youaretoo old for me. Bitterness has consumed you and shriveled up whatever used to beat inside your chest.” She sneers in my direction. “You’re going to rot up here hoping that tomorrow you might wake up, and you’ll suddenly be free of the guilt you’ve been carrying around.”
That’s right, baby. See me for what I really am.
