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“Is that why you’re wet?”
She swallowed, her mind racing to come up with a suitable retort. He didn’t actually touch her there to feel her wetness. His fingers had just roamed over her naked mons before he went all crazy growly on her.
“I’ll have you know I’m not.”
“Want me to prove you wrong?”
“Oh, shut up,” she grumbled, turned in the tight confines of his arms, and slipped into the passenger seat. She hated that he chuckled at her. “This is just to prove that you don’t scare me.” Her heart started doing tornadoes inside her chest.
Oh, hell, what if she was in over her head?
She tried to think back to the moment when she had lost her mind and her precious handle on things. Oh, it was definitely the moment she ran from him at the club.
Heck, she had no idea why she did that in the first place. Maybe it was the way he came at her—so suddenly, so lethally, so damn gloriously powerful, and sexy—that she felt defenseless and fled. In that precise moment, the sheer force of his possessive virility stunned her. She didn't know how to react. His dauntless masculinity and his possessiveness unhinged her, so she panicked and split.
Like an idiot.
And now she had to go home with him.
She took a deep breath as he slipped in beside her, his tall, muscular frame bearing a kind of deadly grace synonymous with a panther.
“Text your friend,” he ordered.
She wanted to say ‘no’ just to be contrary, but she had to let Marcy know what happened to her since Marcy had ordered her to stay in place and dance with the hot guy while she went to get more drinks.
She opened her purse, which she had been holding onto for dear life, and retrieved her phone.
The Hunter kidnapped me. Going home with him today instead of tomorrow.
She added an emoji with electrified hair to say she wasn’t okay.
Marcy replied immediately.
What? You got this. Think IMT only and not...
She added a rooster and a horse emoji.
Kensley frowned for a second at her friend's reply, then threw the phone onto her lap as she deciphered the meaning.
She hadn’t wanted to acknowledge it, but when Hunter had pressed his body against her, he had branded every part of her where his cock had touched. She thought if she boxed those thoughts, sealed them, and burned them, she would forget about them. But her body still glowed, and she still felt the imprint of his colossal hardness on her.
At the same time, her gaze flew to his big, muscular hands, draped with thick veins, as they lay lazily on the wheel of his black sports car. Before she could stop herself, she wondered what his hand would look like wrapped around his cock. What her hand would look like—
She spun her head so fast to look straight ahead of her that he may have heard her neck creak.
“What?” he asked, glancing her way. She should not be thinking about him that way, equestrian-like or not. Never.
She had to get a grip. She was the original IMT. Marcy had reminded her. She just needed to activate a stronger level of Ice-Maiden Terror, and she would be okay. Men didn't chase her. She chased them away.
Hunter McLeod was not an exception to the rule. He just happened to have caught her by surprise with his darkly erotic touch and his lips and his hands, but that was now done and dusted. A practice run, which was what Marcy had wanted her to have.
Mutely, she shook her head, saying nothing was wrong but she was too slow to stop him from picking up her phone from her lap. He ran those gorgeous eyes down the screen, then grinned.
“What's IMT?”
“That is none of your business, as is my phone.” She snapped and grabbed her phone from him.
“Everything about you is my business, Kensley.”
