"Fuck," I groan.
I lace my fingers around her throat and kiss her again. I can't stop. Every time I pull back, her mouth chases mine, and every time her lips find me, I lose another piece of whatever restraint I had left.
"I'm gonna come in my boxers, Harper. I'm not joking. I can't last the ride home."
She giggles, that beautiful blush spreading up her neck, her heart hammering against my palm where it rests on her chest.
She scans the area. The dirt track. The fence line. The dark, quiet ranch house with no lights on and no truck in the drive.
"My parents aren't home."
I nod and step back. Put distance between us before I take her right here against this truck in full view of God and the neighbors.
I run my hand over my jaw. Breathe. Think. Try to get blood flowing back to my brain.
I know exactly what my girl wants. It's the exact same thing I've dreamt about for years. Every night. In every version. In every fantasy that kept me sane and drove me crazy in equal measure.
She wants to run, and she needs to be caught.
“Remember our system?” I ask her, keeping my voice low.
“Yes. Green, good, keep going. Yellow, I need you to slow down a little, but I’m good. Pink, I’m close to red. Red, I need you to stop right now.”
“Good girl,” I growl.
She takes a step closer, and my eyebrow arches.
"I'm going to chase you, Goldie. And when I catch you—" I pause, watching the way her chest rises and falls. The darkness pooling in her eyes. The way her thighs press together. "You'll remember exactly who you belong to. You. Are. Mine."
I swipe my thumb along my bottom lip, my eyes locked on hers.
She doesn't hesitate.
She runs.
And my whole body lights up. Every instinct, every nerve, every primal part of me that has been dormant snaps awake. I watch her go. Her little skirt swaying, her boots kicking up dust, her hair streaming behind her as she darts between two smaller outbuildings and heads toward what I remember to be the stables.
She's still fast. She always was sneaky, taking turns I didn't see coming, doubling back through shadows. The girl knows how to be chased. She was built for it.
I count to ten in my head. Heart slamming. Blood roaring.
I grab the black bandana from the dash and tie it around my face. I did this once for her, and I’ll never forget how hard she came. It gives the chase that extra layer of fear that makes her fall to pieces for me.
"Ready or not, Harper. I'm comin' for you!" I shout into the dark, loud enough that she hears it wherever she's hiding. Loud enough that she feels it in her chest.
And then I go.
I follow her trail, the scuff marks in the dirt, the gate she left swinging, the faint trace of her perfume hanging in the night air. My boots are quiet on the hard ground. I've stalked men through darker nights than this. But nothing has ever made my pulse hammer the way hunting Harper Jones does.
I head straight for the barn at the back. Jump the fence in one stride and kick open the door.
"I know you're in here, baby," I call out, tapping my hand on the doorframe. My voice is muffled behind the bandana. "I'll always find you."
Silence. Just the creak of old timber and the rustle of something shifting.
I walk through the empty barn. Ranch equipment along the walls. Hay bales stacked along the back. Moonlight cutting through the slats in sharp silver lines.
There's a stack of bales in the far corner. Taller than the others. I stop breathing. Just listen. Over the pounding of blood in my ears, I catch it.
