to come to town and bodily drag me back to Portland?
On the other hand, he’s sexy, this Walsh. I mean, I’ve always found him to be sexy—obviously. But there’s something darker about him now, something slightly dangerous. When he grabbed my wrist in the dining room that first day, he squeezed it just hard enough that I felt his anger, just hard enough that he reminded me how much stronger and bigger he is. It was a turn-on, and now I’m wondering if I need to go back to counseling for my new Fifty Shades tendencies. God, I’m a fucking mess.
So, because I don’t know what to do, because I don’t know what he’ll do, I do nothing. I go to work, I serve food, I try to laugh and have fun with Leanne—who is quickly becoming one of the nicest friends I’ve ever had—and I wait. For what, I’m not sure.
Ten days after I first rolled up to the Double A, I’ve served lunch and Leanne tells me to go home for a couple of hours. Dinner on Friday nights is leftovers, so there’s no real cooking or prep to do. I’m thinking that I will see if Mrs. Stallworth needs some errands run, so I head to my car in the back lot. I’ve got my sunglasses on and I’m humming a Lush song, looking down at the marks a horse’s hooves have left in the dust when I run smack into someone’s very nicely toned chest. I let out a little yelp and stumble backwards when a hand shoots out and grabs my elbow to keep me from falling.
The next thing I know, the chest and I are pressed against one another and I’m looking up into Walsh’s eyes—his burning, angry eyes that are blasting a hole right through my sunglasses.
"Sorry," I say quickly, trying to take a step back. "My fault. I wasn’t watching where I was going."
He looks at me, and for a moment, I swear I see the old Walsh flicker across his gaze, but it’s gone so fast I can’t be sure.
"You’ve never paid much attention to where you’re going," he says in a low voice as his hand continues to hold my arm so I can’t back away.
I swallow and notice that I’m having trouble getting enough air into my lungs. "I never had to," I whisper. "I just followed you."
He cocks his head to the side and looks at me thoughtfully instead of angrily for a moment. He breathes in deeply, and I can see an internal struggle take place. His face is taut and his jaw flexes as he clenches it. In tiny, tiny increments, like he’s moving in slow motion, his head moves lower until his face floats alongside my neck. I hear him breathe heavily, and then he mutters, "Fuck it all."
The next second, his mouth crashes down over mine as if he’s a starving lion about to take a bite out of a juicy gazelle. His lips crush and his tongue invades as his scent and his taste take over my consciousness.
I gasp and feel his arms wrap around me as he pulls me so tight against him that I fear our heat will melt our skin together. He moans loudly and curses again, and I feel everything inside me go liquid. It’s a rush of sensations. I’m tingling and burning and aching all at once, everywhere. Heat licks at my insides as if Walsh is a flaming sun that can reach inside and burn me alive. He lifts me and spins in one motion, slamming my back against the nearest car. There’s a door handle digging into me somewhere back there, but I don’t have a moment to think about it as Walsh’s body mirrors mine, pressing me into the car from shoulders to feet, his erection a very obvious part of the whole tangle.
He’s kissing my mouth, my jaw, my neck, and the whole time, he doesn’t stop moaning words. "Tammy… Fuck… I tried… Give up… What you want…" It’s a jumble of profanity and shards of conversation. My arms are trapped between us, and suddenly, he jerks back, grabbing both of my wrists in his hand and raising them above my head, pinning me to the side of the SUV we’re trying to become one with.
He breathes heavily as he leans into me again, his forehead resting against mine. "Is this what
On the other hand, he’s sexy, this Walsh. I mean, I’ve always found him to be sexy—obviously. But there’s something darker about him now, something slightly dangerous. When he grabbed my wrist in the dining room that first day, he squeezed it just hard enough that I felt his anger, just hard enough that he reminded me how much stronger and bigger he is. It was a turn-on, and now I’m wondering if I need to go back to counseling for my new Fifty Shades tendencies. God, I’m a fucking mess.
So, because I don’t know what to do, because I don’t know what he’ll do, I do nothing. I go to work, I serve food, I try to laugh and have fun with Leanne—who is quickly becoming one of the nicest friends I’ve ever had—and I wait. For what, I’m not sure.
Ten days after I first rolled up to the Double A, I’ve served lunch and Leanne tells me to go home for a couple of hours. Dinner on Friday nights is leftovers, so there’s no real cooking or prep to do. I’m thinking that I will see if Mrs. Stallworth needs some errands run, so I head to my car in the back lot. I’ve got my sunglasses on and I’m humming a Lush song, looking down at the marks a horse’s hooves have left in the dust when I run smack into someone’s very nicely toned chest. I let out a little yelp and stumble backwards when a hand shoots out and grabs my elbow to keep me from falling.
The next thing I know, the chest and I are pressed against one another and I’m looking up into Walsh’s eyes—his burning, angry eyes that are blasting a hole right through my sunglasses.
"Sorry," I say quickly, trying to take a step back. "My fault. I wasn’t watching where I was going."
He looks at me, and for a moment, I swear I see the old Walsh flicker across his gaze, but it’s gone so fast I can’t be sure.
"You’ve never paid much attention to where you’re going," he says in a low voice as his hand continues to hold my arm so I can’t back away.
I swallow and notice that I’m having trouble getting enough air into my lungs. "I never had to," I whisper. "I just followed you."
He cocks his head to the side and looks at me thoughtfully instead of angrily for a moment. He breathes in deeply, and I can see an internal struggle take place. His face is taut and his jaw flexes as he clenches it. In tiny, tiny increments, like he’s moving in slow motion, his head moves lower until his face floats alongside my neck. I hear him breathe heavily, and then he mutters, "Fuck it all."
The next second, his mouth crashes down over mine as if he’s a starving lion about to take a bite out of a juicy gazelle. His lips crush and his tongue invades as his scent and his taste take over my consciousness.
I gasp and feel his arms wrap around me as he pulls me so tight against him that I fear our heat will melt our skin together. He moans loudly and curses again, and I feel everything inside me go liquid. It’s a rush of sensations. I’m tingling and burning and aching all at once, everywhere. Heat licks at my insides as if Walsh is a flaming sun that can reach inside and burn me alive. He lifts me and spins in one motion, slamming my back against the nearest car. There’s a door handle digging into me somewhere back there, but I don’t have a moment to think about it as Walsh’s body mirrors mine, pressing me into the car from shoulders to feet, his erection a very obvious part of the whole tangle.
He’s kissing my mouth, my jaw, my neck, and the whole time, he doesn’t stop moaning words. "Tammy… Fuck… I tried… Give up… What you want…" It’s a jumble of profanity and shards of conversation. My arms are trapped between us, and suddenly, he jerks back, grabbing both of my wrists in his hand and raising them above my head, pinning me to the side of the SUV we’re trying to become one with.
He breathes heavily as he leans into me again, his forehead resting against mine. "Is this what
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