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Footsteps followed, just as fast, but somehow quiet compared to the pounding of her feet. Fear made her scream again, and she cut a circle around the forge and headed back toward the house, dodging around dark shapes on the ground. Hands snatched at her clothes. So close! She was almost at the house. She wanted a locked door, a knife, something!
She stumbled, like she’d dreaded she would, and he was on her – arm wrapped around her waist. Forgetting every self-defense course she’d ever taken, she wriggled and bit and scratched, but he took her down to the ground anyway, crushing her belly down on the frigid lawn. He covered her with his body, pinning her there, catching her flailing hands and trapping them against the ground.
Hot breath in her ear. The rapid thud of his heart against her back.
She bucked and shrieked, then whimpered when she realized she was completely at his mercy. Hips ground against her ass, along with an all too apparent hard-on.
> “You shouldn’t spy on me, Miss Korsgaard,” Severin whispered harshly in her ear.
Oh fuck.
Oh God.
She sagged in relief.
“You scared the crap out of me!” She struggled to shift him off of her, but he didn’t budge.
“You scared yourself.”
“You chased me!”
“You came out here wanting to be chased,” he accused. “You’ve seen horror movies. You know how this works. Pretty girl goes snooping around where she doesn’t belong. Big man with a knife chases her.”
“You have a knife?”
“I live outside. I always have a fucking knife.”
She shuddered, and he snorted.
“For fuck’s sake, Miss Korsgaard – does anything not turn you on?”
She laughed as the rush of endorphins and physical contact worked their evil magic.
“With you? I don’t know, and that scares me.”
He groaned and thrust against her ass. She arched into it, and he shifted just enough to swat her bottom. The sting, along with the rest of it, made her wish he’d yank down her pajama pants and fuck her.
Instead, he got off of her and picked her up, throwing her over his shoulder and walking through the night. In the circle of firelight he sat, then maneuvered her belly down over his lap, as if she weighed no more than a doll.
“You know I like my privacy, Miss Korsgaard. You shouldn’t have come out here.” He ran a hand over the back of her pants. “You’re wearing flannel pajamas? Are you a child?”
“It’s cold in the house!” she complained. “Some big jerk left me alone to freeze all day.”
“I figured you could use some time alone too,” he grumbled. “Even if you didn’t, you have no right to spy.”
He yanked down the back of her pants, and she shivered as the cool air caressed her bared flesh.
“Hey! I was worried all day, then by bedtime I was scared.”
“Worried? Scared?”
“Well – I didn’t know if you were angry at me,” she explained. He never seemed to understand other people had feelings. “Then when you were gone so long I was afraid something might have happened to you.” When he said nothing, she went on. “Then tonight I heard a noise in the house and I was afraid there was a prowler.”
“A prowler?” He made a sound of amusement. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone use that word in real life. If you’re going to be using words like prowler you need to start sleeping with curlers in your hair.”
“I was worried about you, and you don’t even care!” She swatted his calf in semi-mock annoyance, and the sound of irritation that came out of him made her insides twist into a knot. Self-preservation made her try to slide off his lap, but he held her in place.
“Sometimes I need to be alone. You can’t follow me around all the time.”
