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Instead, he set her on her feet and crowded her against the barn, sure to keep a good few inches between his needy cock and her wriggling body. Then, he boxed her in by slapping his palms on both sides of her head.
Thankfully, the barn remained standing.
Brooke jumped as his palms smacked the barn, then closed her eyes and breathed hard. Her chest rose and fell giving him a tiny peek of cleavage from the V of her T-shirt every time she inhaled. Most of her hair had come loose from the ponytail, and a few strands clung to her lower lip.
She didn’t seem to notice.
While he admired her passion, knowing exactly what Prick could and would have done had he not shown up had Curly seething.
“Do you have any idea how fucking stupid it is to be slinking around this place by yourself?” he growled down at her. “Do you have any fucking clue what he would have done to you if I hadn’t come by?”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, slightly breathless as she shook her head. “I know it was stupid, but I’m about ninety percent certain he’s running a dog fighting ring out of this barn.”
Jesus Christ that made it even worse.
“So you decided to play amateur cop and investigate that shit yourself?”
Eyes still closed, she blew out a beath.
“Did you know Prick once did time for beating a man who cut him off on the highway? The guy spent three weeks in a coma. Did you know an ol’ lady he had years ago kicked his ass to the curb after he broke her arm? For the second time.”
Brooke paled.
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t drive you home and tie you to your bed?”
Her eyes opened, wide and searching as she fought to steady her breath. As she stared at him, he swore he saw a flicker of interest in her gaze.
Shit. He’d meant so she wouldn’t get into more trouble, but fuck if it didn’t sound sexy as hell. Did she think so too? Was that why her breath hitched, and her nostrils flared. Did she like the idea of being bound and at his mercy? To do with as he pleased. All that sexy skin his for the taking.
He almost groaned out loud.
At the very least, he needed to hit a bar and find someone to suck him off before he did something idiotic like fuck this little canine vigilante. Brooke was a good woman, and good women steered clear of men like him.
“Because the idea of him hurting dogs makes you as sick as it makes me.”
“What?” he growled as her words dragged him from his dirty fantasies.
“You shouldn’t tie me up in my house because the idea of Prick running a dog fighting ring makes you as sick as it makes me,” she said as the courageous woman poked him in the chest.
Well, shit, she had him there. She could add mind reader to her list of skills because there was no way he’d tolerate Prick abusing animals on top of all his other sins.
CHAPTER SEVEN
TIE HER TO the bed?
Tie her to the bed!
Clearly, the man hadn’t meant anything sexual. A man like him wouldn’t go for someone like her who lived in jeans and tanks and couldn’t flirt if her life depended on it. He was trying to demonstrate that he could remove her from this situation and keep her from returning, but her sex-starved mind went straight to the naughty.
She’d never tried the tying up thing before. She’d met her ex-husband her first year of college, and he’d been the only man she’d ever slept with. Sex with him had been vanilla at best. Was there something blander than vanilla? Bran, maybe?
Yeah, sex with her husband had been bran. No sparks, no heat, no flavor. Even in the early days, she often felt like nothing more than a vessel he used to get off in. Not once had sex been about her pleasure or even their pleasure. Shared intimacy hadn’t existed in their relationship. The second Evan came, he’d rolled off and passed out no matter where she’d been or what she’d needed. Of course, he’d been getting serviced on the side, so what the fuck did he care if it wasn’t great between them? But she’d been left wondering if that’s just how sex would be for her or if there was something…hotter.
Her ex had done his part and then some to destroy her self-confidence both in and out of bed, so she’d never had any rebound sex or wild fling post-divorce. As the years passed, her confidence dwindled further with continued inexperience. Now, at forty-one, she was practically re-virginized, self-conscious about her body, and still had only ever had bran sex.
No wonder the thought of this rugged, slightly dangerous man tying her up and doing things to her had her long-neglected body going haywire and acting so out of character.
