Page 80 of My Favorite Hero

“I wasn’t in danger!” she retorted, lifting her chin, defiant and brave. “I would have figured something out. Once I got my breath back, I would have climbed down.” She poked my chest. “I don’t need you.”

I barked out a dry laugh. She would have climbed down. Right.

She was indignant in her rage. The color had returned to her face, and she was flushed with anger. Her bright eyes snapped in fury, and she braced herself, ready to battle this out.

She was fucking beautiful with her anger on display. I loved that part of her.

And I wanted her.

Right now.

In a move she didn’t expect, I bent and threw her over my shoulder. Her long ponytail slapped against the back of my legs.

She gasped, hitting my back. “Let me go!”

I smacked her ass, holding her thighs tight so she couldn’t escape.

“No.”

Then I smacked her ass again. It felt good. It wasn’t hard, and she didn’t object.

I turned and headed to the house, berating her the entire way.

“You don’t make the rules here, Casey.”

Smack.

“I said one set of wind chimes, and you knew what I meant. Finding a loophole doesn’t make it right.”

Smack.

“If I tell you something, you better listen.”

Smack.

“If I have to lock you in the house while I’m gone to stop you causing trouble, I will.”

Smack.

“Those wind chimes are going in the garbage tomorrow.”

Smack.

That one got me a retaliatory smack on my ass, which felt more like a little tap. She argued the whole time, muttering under her breath, grabbing at my ass, trying to slap me—her ineffectual attempts only making me madder and turning me on even more.

I had never wanted a woman the way I wanted her right now. And I wanted her to know exactly who was in charge.

I stormed into the house, shutting the door behind me. As I thundered through the kitchen, she yelled, “There’s a roast in the oven!”

“Too bad,” I snapped.

“Onion gravy,” she responded.

I stepped back and turned off the oven. Dinner shouldn’t suffer because of her bad judgment.

I walked through her space, noting the animals on the sofa looking at us in curiosity but not moving. I stopped and petted Miller’s head. “Good boy,” I muttered.

“Getting dizzy here,” Casey yelped.