by Maisey Yates
“Bullshit,” he shot back. “I didn’t help you build your chicken coop and get on board with the idea of your animal sanctuary for my own comfort. Don’t go acting like a martyr now because you didn’t get your way.”
“You’re just being an asshole.”
“And you’re being a spoiled brat. If you want to have some fun and get laid, go right ahead. I don’t give a damn, Beatrix. You’re right. You are a grown woman. But I’m too much man for you to handle, and you should go find someone more your speed.”
“You think you know what my speed is? You think you have any... You don’t know me, Dane. Obviously.”
She was almost blind with rage. She couldn’t remember ever feeling so...so angry. And she knew she had been this angry before. Angry at all kinds of different people in her life and not quite knowing what to do or how to say it. Being caught between the desire to remain invisible and the desire to be seen, to be understood. Right now she wasn’t caught between anything. Because she had taken care of this man for months and now he was doing the very thing that he hadn’t done before. He was writing her off. Minimizing her. Taking his anger out on her when she had been the one who had actually tried to help him. She’d been endlessly indulgent of him. Had tried her very best to help him heal, to make him feel like a man in the process, to never minimize him.
And he was going and treating her like a child when he was the one person who should know that she wasn’t.
Not because he had seen her naked in the water, but because he had seen the way that she worked. She had let him in. Had told him all about her dreams. And he had said that they were valuable. That he understood.
But apparently only up to a point. Only up until he was running scared.
“You’re too much of a man for me, Dane?” she asked, vibrating with anger. “That’s interesting. Because I don’t see it that way.”
“Because you don’t know better.”
“Oh, that’s not why. It’s because all I see in front of me is a scared little boy. You’re in denial. And you can say that you’re angry because your dad called you, but it’s more than that.”
“You don’t know anything about it.”
“Did one phone call from your father upset you?” She took a step forward and pushed against his chest. “Congratulations. Your dad called you once and hurt your feelings. My dad hurts my feelings every time we talk. That’s my entire life. My whole relationship with that man. Buck up. Deal the fuck with it, Dane Parker. Because God knows I have. For my entire life. I figured out how to be exactly what I wanted to be, exactly what I could be, getting no help from anyone, least of all the people around me, who all act like I’m easily wounded. But look at me. I’m standing here, and I don’t have a limp.”
“I didn’t exactly choose to throw myself under a raging bull, Beatrix.”
“You threw yourself on top of one, and you knew this might happen.”
“Something might happen any time I walk out a door. I was hardly trying to get myself hurt.”
“Maybe you weren’t,” she bit out. “But you’re sure as hell choosing to wallow in it.”
“Once this is all over...”
“What? What do you mean over?” she asked, horrified by herself now. By the words she knew were coming next. But she couldn’t stop them either. She refused to stop them. “Do you honestly think that you’re going to get back on the bull next year?” she exploded.
Bea had never hurt a person on purpose in her whole life. She was careful. Always. If she went against her parents’ wishes she did it so quietly that by the time they realized what she’d done they’d likely forgotten they’d ever asked her to do any different. But she wanted to hurt him. Wanted to hurt him the way he’d hurt her.
“You’re in your thirties. You only had a couple good years left, anyway. You know that. Somewhere inside you know that. I think the thing that really pisses you off about your dad calling you is that you know that the answer to whether or not you’re going back is no. That’s the real reason that you’re upset. Because he asked you the direct question that everybody else is too tactful to ask. But be honest with yourself. Really honest.”
He took a step back from her, his movements stiff, and she knew he was hurting. She also knew he’d never admit it.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, his entire face tight with anger now. She didn’t think she’d ever seen him this angry. At least, certainly not directed at her.
She liked it. She liked it because it wasn’t careful. She liked it because it wasn’t safe.
She was so tired of the two of them being careful. That’s all they ever were. Careful around each other. She had been careful to never do something crazy like she had back in the cabin. Careful never to kiss him even though she’d wanted to. And he had been careful to never hurt her. But she was over it. And maybe if she made him angry enough he would be too.
“I don’t know what I’m talking about? You have been sitting on your ass for the last eight months feeling sorry for yourself. Making no decisions. Not doing a damn thing. Because you’re just sitting here in denial. Hoping that one morning you’re going to wake up and everything is going to magically be better. Let’s face it. You’re broken. And I know it. I know it because I was the one that went into that hospital room and saw you lying there like that. Like you were dead. I know it. I saw how bad it was. You were cushioned. By drugs. By this...silly idea that you have that someday it’s all going to be back to normal. But it isn’t and that’s the thing that no one is telling you.”
It was what she’d held back earlier, in the cabin. The truth about him, the one he didn’t want to see. She’d held it back because she was afraid of what it would make him think of her.
She didn’t care now.
“Everyone’s asking how you are,” she continued. “And everyone’s walking on eggshells because they’re afraid to say pull your head out of your ass and get a new plan for your life. The old plan isn’t going to work.”
He made a sound that was halfway between a groan and a growl, and suddenly he was in her space. “I’m broken? Is that what you think?”
“Yes,” she said, not letting her eyes leave him. “That’s what I know.”
“You think that because you take care of creatures that you have any idea what the hell is going on with me?”
“Yes,” she shot back. “And if you were one of the creatures that I take care of I would’ve thrown your ass back into the forest by now and told you to make your own way. Because this is the truth of it. You can’t have your old life back, Dane. You have to find a new one. So yeah, they should let you work harder. Wyatt and Lindy. Because they should get that by now. That this is your life. That’s what terrifies you. Deep down you know I’m right.”
“I can’t have my life back?” The words were spoken softly, so evenly, that she realized he’d actually topped out on his rage. He had gone from yelling to a whisper, and that was even more terrifying than the yelling.
“I’m so broken that I’m suddenly easy enough for you to handle?”
“No,” she said, rage spiking through her, spurring her on. She reached out and grabbed a handful of his shirt, her heart thundering hard, giddiness mingling with the rage and making it difficult for her to breathe. Difficult for her to think. “I’m just saying that everybody’s wrong about me too. I’m woman enough to handle you exactly as you are. And I think you’re scared of that too, because it’s just one more thing that’s out of your control now. I’m not doing what you want me to do, and that’s the real thing that bothers you. You’re scared, Dane Parker. But you being chickenshit isn’t my problem.” And she closed the gap between them again, kissing him until his arm wrapped tightly around her and he reversed their positions, slamming her up against the wall with brute force that she wasn’t sure he’d intended.
“You think I’m s
cared of you?” he asked, his voice rough, his whiskers rough on her cheek as he pressed his face against hers, his breath hot on her ear.
She was exhilarated. And terrified.
“Is that it, baby girl? You think I’m scared of you?”
“Y-yes,” she said, a tremble in her voice.
“You’re right about one thing,” he said. “I am tired of sitting around and doing fucking nothing.” She found herself crushed against his chest, his mouth hard on hers. He tasted like Dane, and fury, and in all the fantasies she’d ever had about this happening between them, it hadn’t been like this.
He hadn’t been so rough. So hard and angry. Her heart hadn’t been pounding so hard that it seemed like it was trying to escape her chest. It felt like he was punishing her, and fair enough, because she had tried to punish him. But then somehow, someway, over the course of the kiss, it transformed.
It deepened, his tongue sliding against her mouth, demanding entry that she gave easily, willingly. It started to melt away the raw edges of the anger as it went harder, pulling something else out from inside of her. Creating within her a need so yawning and deep it felt like nothing she’d ever experienced. He tried to pull away, and she didn’t let him; instead, she bracketed his face with her hands and kept the kiss going. Because whatever it was, she didn’t want to lose the magic. Whatever was happening, she didn’t want it to end. “I’ll show you,” he whispered against her lips.
“I’ll show you,” she whispered back, grabbing at his T-shirt, yanking it up over his head. She wasn’t a little girl. And she wasn’t here to be protected. There weren’t words to express that. She’d already tried it. With anger, with spite, because he had hurt her. This was all that was left. It was all that she could give.
She broke the kiss for a moment and took a step back, looking at his torso, looking at what she had done.
She half expected him to pick her up and carry her to the front door before tossing her outside, but he didn’t. He just stood there, letting her look at his body. She reached out, putting her hand on his bare chest, desire making her feel weak, making that place between her legs feel slick and hollow, her breasts feel heavy. She had never associated these kinds of feelings with anger before, but with Dane it was never that simple.
Because there would always be years surrounding her feelings for him. It would always go beyond the moment. He’d started to matter to her more than ten years ago and for her, this wasn’t a shift, wasn’t anything new, so much as it was an evolution. It was that anger that had allowed for another barrier to be stripped away. She had a feeling that for Dane, the first one had been stripped away down by the river and their anger had only stripped it down further. His reaction was showing her just how vulnerable he was. And this was her chance to show him how strong she was in return.
His face...oh, his face made her hurt. The sculpted line of his jaw, his perfectly curved lips that could look so inviting when he smiled and so forbidding when he frowned. The cleft in his chin that had another dent right next to it, a scar from who knew what or when. The new marks on his face, through his eyebrow, from the accident.
And his eyes. Lit with blue flame. Hot. For her.
He pressed his hand over hers and she felt the way his heartbeat raged beneath her palm.
His body was hard, the rough, masculine hair that covered his muscles there and down to his abs was fascinating to her. And he was... He was beautiful. So beautiful that it hurt. And every scar, every line on his body that showed the pain he’d been through made him all the more compelling. It was a road map to what had brought them to this moment.
Because maybe for the two of them it wasn’t inevitable. Maybe this moment, this interruption in his life, had been necessary to bring it about.
This brokenness.
And she wouldn’t have wished it on him. But she couldn’t wish herself out of this moment either.
Not when it was everything she had ever wanted.
“Beatrix,” he said, his voice hoarse.
“I don’t care,” she whispered. “I don’t care if you have scars. And I don’t care if you ever ride again. I mean, for you maybe. But, that’s not why I want you.”
“Don’t,” he bit out.
“Why are you fighting?” she asked. “Why? Everything is awful anyway, right? This could be good. It could be.” She believed it. With all of herself. And more to the point she wanted it. She wanted it, and she was ready to take it. Ready to have this moment, whatever happened next. It was important. Because if she didn’t want to be treated like she was invisible anymore, like she was a harmless child, then she had to quit acting like it.
He growled, and then his hands were in her hair, his mouth hungry on hers as he pressed her more firmly against the wall, the ridge of his arousal insistent between her legs. She rolled her hips forward, the sensation it created making her head fall back, making her gasp.
They made no sense at all outside this house, but this house was the only place that mattered. At least right now. And how fitting for her to be making out with a rodeo rider up against the wall in the house where she had been told over and over again that she was wrong. She didn’t know her own mind. This same room where her mother had told her that her father—the man who had made her feel so insignificant for all of her life—wasn’t even her father. That she was nothing more than the evidence of a regrettable mistake her mother had made all those years ago.
That she was nothing. That what she wanted was nothing. That she was wrong.
Well, this felt right. And it was what she wanted. And it was for her.
Because what she wanted mattered, dammit. From the sanctuary to Dane. It mattered.
His kiss was hot and hungry, desperate, matching everything she felt inside her, and she felt...liberated. Because what she felt wasn’t wrong or strange—how could it be? When he seemed to feel exactly the same. For this moment, he did.
And in that moment, she didn’t care so much what he thought. Not when she had given and given all this time and now she finally had the one thing she had wanted for longer than she could remember right in front of her.
“Show me,” she taunted. “Show me that you aren’t broken, then.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
DANE SMOOTHED HIS hand down her back and cupped her butt, hauling her up against him and groaning as he lifted her off the ground and began to walk her back down the hall, toward the room that she knew he was staying in.
Part of her wanted to tell him to stop. Not to hurt himself. But there was another part of her that didn’t want to give him that. They had both pushed each other past the point of no return, and she didn’t want to give to him now. No, she wanted to keep taking, and see what he would take right back. He shoved open the bedroom door and threw her down on the bed, his eyes blazing. “Is that really what you want? Is this what you want? I tried to protect you earlier but if you insist...”
She looked at him, six feet two inches of angry, muscular cowboy, scarred and breathing hard from the exertion it had taken him to carry her down the hall, which probably only made him angrier.
Yes. This was exactly what she wanted. Dane. All of him. Not babying her, and treating her like she was fragile.
She wanted the man that she had been fascinated by for all these years, not some careful, muted version because he was treating her like a child.
No, she was a woman, and she damn well deserved for him to treat her like one.
“Bullshit,” she said, on a roll now of using words she never did. “You were protecting you, Dane. Not me. I can handle everything you’ve got.”
She grabbed the hem of her T-shirt and pulled it up overhead before she could second-guess anything. The bra she had on beneath her top was thin and lacy, and she knew that he would be able to see the shadow of her nipples beneath the fabric. She leaned back on her elbows, staring at him, appraising his
response.
He moved forward, pressing his knee down on the mattress, between her legs, his muscles shifting as he did. Excitement jolted her, nerves twining themselves around the edges of that excitement. But she chose to embrace them. The bigness of it. That tingling that centered itself between her legs, where she wanted him to touch her most.
“I wanted to do this at the river,” he said, his voice impossibly rough now, so rough that she swore she could feel it skimming along her skin, over her sensitized nipples.
She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from making a sound, to keep from wiggling and twisting beneath his gaze like she wanted to. She wanted to adjust herself so that his thigh was pressed firmly between her legs, offering some relief to the restless need that rioted through her. But she also wanted to sit there like that. Still as anything. To see just what Dane wanted. What he wanted from her.
Because he did want her, that much was obvious.
He reached down and wrapped his strong masculine hand around the center of her bra and pulled hard, until it snapped, freeing it from her body and leaving her bare to the waist in front of him.
He licked his lips, his eyes moving over her body. “Hell yeah,” he ground out, leaning down and kissing her neck, his chest brushing against her sensitized nipples, the heat and hardness of his body sending a shock wave of need through her. He pressed his palm between her shoulder blades and brought her more tightly against him before claiming her mouth, rough, deep and sensual. It went on and on and by the time they parted, Bea was shaking, her center turned to liquid.
She didn’t know that wanting someone could feel like this. Like a sickness. Like she might die if she couldn’t have him. All of him.
She had known what it was to feel an attraction for him, to want him in a very hazy, fantasy sense. But this was close and real. So much sharper than desire had ever been before. It was the sound of heavy breathing, and the feel of his fingers tangling in her hair; it was those rough hands moving up to cup her breasts, and a lightning bolt of desire when his thumbs skimmed over the tightened buds there.