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Hard to do when he lives off the grid. Denver can do it for him, but that’s yet to happen. I doubt it ever will. Denver’s number one priority is staying off the radar. Submitting an award-winning vodka recipe doesn’t exactly achieve that.
Past the distillery, I enter a room with shelves crammed with medicine and supplies. This is where Frankie finds me a few minutes later.
“What’s all that out there?” She gestures at Kody’s room behind her. “Are you guys making moonshine?”
“Kody makes vodka.”
“Oh.” Her eyebrows crawl together, and she refocuses on the medicine surrounding her. “Wow. This is a lot of supplies.”
“What do you need?”
She pulls the hem of her hoodie up, creating a makeshift tote, and proceeds to fill it with bandages, antibiotics, first-aid, and suture supplies.
“All these pills…” She lifts bottle after bottle, examining the labels. “They’re prescription only. How did you get these?”
“Denver steals them. Every time he flies to civilization, he breaks into clinics after hours and ransacks everything they have.”
“I shouldn’t be surprised.” Her expression darkens. “He likes to take things that don’t belong to him.”
Turning away, she rummages for more supplies. Or maybe she’s just taking stock of what we have. Either way, she’s willing to help Kody, and I should feel grateful.
Except it’s her fault he has another wound that will turn into another scar. He may never recoup full mobility in his hand. For what? Because she found some old bones and decided to throw a fit? What did she gain from it? What did any of us gain?
Beneath my resentment, however, a deeper, stronger emotion plagues me. It’s been there since the moment she arrived as Denver’s perfect little wedge to drive my brothers and me apart. She’s still that wedge, but I see more. And I like it.
“If you had known Kody would take your punishment,” I ask, “would you have done things differently tonight?”
She considers that, her teeth tugging her bottom lip, nibbling, driving me mad.
Just look at her face. That gorgeous goddamn face. Her fair skin gleams brightly, defying the shadows around her. Rivers of copper hair, perky little tits, and toned muscle—she knows she’s sexy as fuck.
How can she not? She sees her reflection. I bet she stands naked in front of the mirror for hours, admiring the gifts God gave her. Probably fingerbangs the fuck out of herself, knowing how powerful her pussy is against men like me. She wields that secret part of her like sorcery, hiding it from me while making me viscerally aware of it at all times.
If I had her body, my fingers would live between those seductive thighs. How does she not walk around touching herself constantly? That’s the greatest mystery of all.
“I regret my actions.” Her somber tone shatters my dirty thoughts. “If I’d known…” She pulls nervously on her earlobe, her gaze losing focus. “I would’ve found a better way to confront Denver about the bones.” With a heavy sigh, she meets my eyes. “I made a terrible mistake, and I wish I could take it back.”
I believe her, and that makes her truly, infinitely more beautiful. Sure, she’s fucking stubborn. Reckless to a fault. And yet not too proud to admit her mistake.
Not to mention, she’s the real victim here. But not a pathetic, broken victim. Her will to live and overcome her fears is a trait I’ve never seen in the others before her.
She isn’t the first woman Denver brought to Hoss, but I’m beginning to think she might be the last. If she survives and gives Denver what he wants, he won’t take another.
That terrifies and excites me, and before I process what I’m doing, I pin her to the closest wall with the hard press of my hips.
“Stop!” She shoves uselessly at my chest, dropping the medical supplies. “What are you—?”
“You’re fucking mesmerizing.” I nip at her jaw, my insides heating and tightening. “Even when you defy me at every turn. Even though you know I’m immensely stronger and meaner.”
“Meanness is a weakness, not a strength.” She exhales heavily, trying to remain calm, despite her caged, helpless position. She rises on tiptoes, somehow looking even more adorably short, and glares up at me. “What do you want from me?”
I want to ram my cock into the back of her cunt. I want to feel her gripping and soaking every hard, hungry, neglected inch of my length as I thrust and pound and spill these violent, pent-up urges. I want to pull out and fuck her face until her screams gurgle and her breath strangles as she sucks me down, swallowing every drop like a good girl.
I want to know her taste, her moans, the clench of her thighs, and the heat between them. I want to own her body, and I want her to need it, to beg for it, only from me.
