Page 77

No words.

No apologies.

Just the pulse of two stubborn souls—clashing and crashing.

Within that breathless moment, the tension between us tightens like a wire ready to snap.

I gently run my thumb along her plump bottom lip trembling with restraint I barely have. “I love you so God damn much it makes me insane, and now I’m going to make you feel every fucking fractured piece of it.”

“Do your fucking worst, Sheriff.” It doesn’t sound like defiance—it sounds like a plea. And fuck, her body? It’s already begging for mine. I can see it in the way she shivers, in the way her breath catches like my nearness is oxygen and poison all at once. She’s burning for me—whether she wants to admit it or not—and God help me, I want to watch her come undone in that fire.

I drag her to the front of the car, boots scuffing gravel as I shove her up against the hood. The metal's still warm from the drive, the scent of engine oil clinging to the air. Crickets wail in the tall grass, and the distant snap of a branch reminds me we aren’t as alone as this might feel.

I hook her cuffs onto the passenger-side windshield wiper, stretching her arms out across the glass. Her chest presses flat to the hood, cheek turned to one side, breath fogging faint circles on the surface. But it’s that ass—high in the air, perfect and shameless—that knocks the last bit of restraint clean out of me.

My hands find her like they’ve always known where to go. I trace the soft planes of her waist, her hips, feeling the tremor beneath my touch. She’s shaking, but she’s not pulling away. Not even close.

I shove her cropped T-shirt up, baring the silk of her skin to the moonlight and the night air thick with heat and dust. Her spine arches, the muscles in her back twitching beneath my fingers.

“You pushed it too far tonight, little viper,” I murmur, voice low, dangerous.

She doesn’t look back. Doesn’t need to.

“Pushed what?” she breathes, all heat and defiance wrapped in a whisper.

“Your fucking luck,” I snap.

My hand reaches around, fingers finding the worn button on those cutoff shorts she wears to work—tiny things that leave nothing to the imagination, show off those long legs that make every man in town look twice.

I pop the button. Yank the denim down her thighs in one hard pull.

Then I see it.

No panties.

I freeze. Just for a second. Suck in a sharp breath like it might help me keep control.

“You’ve been walking around here like this?” I growl, voice breaking with heat. “In these little fucking shorts? No panties? Where anybody could’ve seen⁠—”

My hand closes over the curve of her ass, rough and possessive. Her skin’s warm, soft, too God damn tempting. I squeeze—once, hard—before drawing my hand back and bringing it down in a sharp, echoing slap.

“What’s mine,” I bite out. “What’s always been mine.”

She begins to thrash wildly pulling at her cuffs. “Henry! Let me go!”

“No,” I say, voice low and razor-edged. “Here’s what’s going to happen.”

I drag a finger down the length of her spine, slow and deliberate, feeling the way her body reacts—tightens, shudders, betrays her. I take my time with it, savoring every flicker of tension.

“I’m going to spank this ass until it’s fucking purple for the stupid shit you just pulled. She could have hurt you.” My tone doesn’t waver. Doesn’t give her an inch.

“Usually we’d use a safeword, but we’re way fucking past that.”

I lean in, my breath hot against her skin.

“You have no fucking control here, and you’ll take everything I give you.”

She glares back at me, defiant. “So even if I refuse, you're still going to do whatever the hell you want?”