I don’t know what I’m thinking—obviously I’m not—but I lean in close and sniff his neck. He smells like leaves and sunshine, and heat gathers between my legs. Holy cow, maybe I banged my head when I fell and I’m in a coma. Because what the heck is wrong with me?
I know I’ve lost it when I do it again. He smells sooo good.
Yup, I’ve gotta be in a coma. Either that, or I’m really asleep in my tent and I’m dreaming, again, about a sexy, gruff mountain man carrying me off to have his wicked way with me. It’s been on repeat for months now. Not that I ever expect it to happen, but this feels so real.
Moving my arm from behind his shoulder, I pinch myself just above my wrist for reassurance, and squeak. Oh. My. God. Not a dream at all.
“What are you doing? You still haven’t answered me.”
If possible, he sounds angrier than before. I can’t seem to make my mouth move to answer him.
“Not talking? Hmm. Fine. I bet you’ll change your mind when I get you back to my cabin.” Then he pulls my pack off my shoulders and slings it over his arm.
He’s already wearing one. Why didn’t I notice that when I was sniffing him? That realization shakes me out of my head, though.
“Wait. You can’t do that.”
“Of course I can.”
“No, you can’t. Put me down.”
When his eyes meet mine, I gulp. My voice cracks as I whisper, “Please.”
“No. You’re coming with me. I need answers. You shouldn’t be here.”
“I’m allowed to be here.”
“I highly doubt that,” he huffs as he sets off in the opposite direction from my campsite.
“If you take me back to my tent, I can prove it,” I plead. The email from Andrew Gallant, granting me access to the mountain, is on my laptop. Not that I owe him an explanation. Who is he, anyway? Is he going to kill me? Or worse? He’s probably the one who’s trespassing here.
“Don’t fucking lie to me,” he says, anger radiating from him. Then he grips me tighter and keeps walking.
I’m plastered to his side as he carries me like a child on his hip. Following a path I can’t see, he moves through the forest as if he’s done it a million times. Maybe because he has. I should be terrified. Not letting him carry me off to who-knows-where.
It’s like I’m the epitome of the “too stupid to live” girl from so many books. The ones that make me want to throw my e-reader against the wall.
Maybe that’s the problem. I’ve read too many romance books. Had too many fantasies about the dangerous antihero with a soft heart, only for the heroine. Yeah, I’m pretty sure I’ve lost my mind. This isn’t a romance novel. He’s probably a serial killer hiding out in the forest, and I’m about to be his next victim. Maybe being mauled by a bear would have been better after all.
“Please let me go. I promise I won’t tell anyone I saw you. It’s too dark to even know what you look like. I just want to go back to my camp and pretend this didn’t happen.”
He stops walking and looks at me. And not just at me. It’s like he really sees me.
“Why would I care if you tell someone? You’re the one who doesn’t belong here.”
“You’re kidnapping me. I figured you wouldn’t want to go to jail.”
He cocks his head and chuckles. It’s a mesmerizing sound—deep and gravelly, and totally unexpected.
“Did you bang your head when you fell?” he asks after he stops laughing.
“Umm, I don’t think so. Why?” I ask suspiciously. Does he think I’ve lost my mind?
“Because you’re not making any sense. I’m not kidnapping you. You’re trespassing on private property. I want to know why you’re here so I can decide whether to turn you over to the sheriff. But first I’m taking you to my cabin so I can see how badly you’re hurt.”
“You’re not going to kill me?”
“No little one, I’m not going to kill you. But I have half a mind to put you over my knee and spank your ass.”
