It was starting to make me itchy. To feel a little worried, like I’d made a dumb choice and put myself in a bad situation.
“I’m sorry if I scared you,” he told me. “Grabbed you like that. I just lost control for a moment until I realized you weren’t a she-wolf and had no idea what I was about. Sometimes I don’t know my own strength. Sometimes–never mind.”
Logically, I knew what he said shouldn’t give me offense, but years of being belittled by Marty made me feel suddenly inadequate.
I wasn’t a she-wolf. I didn’t know what was going on.
He probably wanted a she-wolf. Wanted someone who would understand him. Who wouldn’t mind being grabbed and manhandled by a giant. What guy would want my kind of insecurities?
“Awkward, right?” I played it off, trying to roll away and get off the bed.
“Hold up.” Boone looped that tree-trunk-sized arm around my waist and pulled me back against him, just like he had in the bar. Now, though, we were naked. Now, we were alone.
I stiffened. Some alarms were starting to go off.
First–that thing he kept saying about me belonging to him.
That was wrong. Dead wrong.
Marty treated me like a possession he could control, and was this what Boone wanted, too?
I didn’t care how talented his dick was, I wasn’t going back there, not ever.
Second, I was feeling bruised over the she-wolf comment, like it was impossible for me to ever measure up to what he really wanted. I could color my hair, let it grow out, wear colored contacts, but I sure as hell couldn’t turn into a wolf.
And third, if I tried to get away from Boone’s hold right now, I couldn’t. He was that big and strong. It would be physically impossible. I wasn’t fit enough, and I knew how powerful he was. It wasn’t just words I had to protect myself from but, now, something physical, too.
I’d been manhandled by a jealous, possessive husband for such a long time, so anything that smelled anything like possession freaked me out.
“What just happened, Summer?” Boone’s voice was a deep rumble. He held me captive, but it felt more like a hug from behind.
Part of me loved it because a normal, not broken woman would crave a man/shifter like Boone to hold her.
Another part was freaking out–the part that kept me safe these days.
“Did I offend you, baby?” he wondered. “What did I say? Shit, I’m an idiot.”
No, I was an idiot. Of course, he hadn’t meant to hurt my feelings.
“Let me go,” I murmured, testing.
How long would this behemoth of a guy follow my rules? Was it over now that he got laid?
The muscles in his arm went slack although he didn’t move it away from me. “I don’t want to.” I heard regret in his voice. “Not ever.”
“You’re… you’re freaking me out,” I admitted.
He instantly released me and sat up on the bed, probably feeling my words tremble right along with my body. “Shit. I’m sorry, Summer.”
I rolled off the now-lopsided bed and tried to change the subject. Eyed the damage. “You broke the bed.”
“We. We broke the bed.” He grinned. “I’ll make a new one. A sturdier one.”
He’d make a bed? Seriously. “Are you a woodworker?”
He nodded. “My brother Roy’s the real woodworker. I’m a lumberjack, mostly. I chop down trees. Have my own business. My other brother, Ace, has a Christmas tree farm up on the mountain. Don’t worry, we’ll make something sturdier and replace it.”
Lumberjack. Of course, he was a lumberjack. He looked like one. Acted like one from the way he seemed to be almost… feral, happier in nature than around people. But there was something about him, an awareness that indicated he was far sharper than a simple mountain man. He was quiet. Observed. Studied. Saved his words for when it was important to speak.
