damned puppy anytime you’re around. And you’ve even got Stoney looking after you like a Dutch uncle. But you aren’t going to be happy until you add me to the list,” he muttered roughly.
“Since when is it wrong to want people to like you?” Layne snapped, her hands moving to her hips in a challenging and defiant stance. “Every time I try to be friendly to you, I end up talking to the wind.”
“You want to be my friend? Then take the hint and leave me alone.” The natural huskiness in his voice became more pronounced as its pitch deepened to vibrate through her.
Confused and incredulous, Layne could only protest his unreasoning attitude toward her. “What is it with you? Do Isuddenly acquire two heads when you look at me? Is it the way I dress? The way I talk? What is it about me that you can’t stand?”
An exasperated sigh, heavily laced with anger, came from him as Creed briefly looked away, then leveled his gaze at her once more. There was less than a foot between them in this confrontation. A streetlamp threw a harsh light across the blunt, angular features of his unhandsome face.
“Lately you’ve done everything but stand on your head to get me to notice you. If it makes you feel any better, I have noticed you’ve got hair the red-brown color of a newborn calf—and how sweet-smelling your skin is.” A tautness was coming into his voice, a fiercely checked roughness that quivered along her nerve ends.
The tension between them seemed to take on a different quality that electrified her senses. The underlying heat was still there, but it was more sexual in origin. The beat of her pulse became shallow and uneven as a threat of confusion began to weave itself into her emotions.
“And I’ve noticed your lips,” Creed was continuing, his voice dropping lower and lower. “The way they—” His mouth came shut on the incomplete sentence, the angle of his jaw hardening.
His large hands reached out and snared her arms before Layne could jump backward to elude them. She was hauled roughly against him, her arms pinioned to her sides. There wasn’t time to draw more than a breath of surprise before the air was choked off by the bruising crush of his mouth.
Not an inch of maneuverability was allowed her as her head was forced backward by the brutal pressure until she thought her neck would snap. It was all pain, from the scrape of his short, whisker stubble to the grinding of her lips against her teeth.
When the initial shock passed, there was a roar of blood pounding in her ears. The heat of his breath seemed to set fire to her skin. Layne raged at her own impotency, trapped in the bear-grip of his arms with no chance to escape or struggle.
It was not the kind of kiss that had a beginning or an end. It was seizure and release, both in abrupt actions. Layne backed quickly from him, not sure if Creed intended to follow up that attack with another. The back of her hand was instinctively pressed to her sore and throbbing lips while she eyed him with wary revulsion. But he merely stood there, breathing roughly, his arms at his sides.
“Are you happy now?” he snapped at her like a wounded animal, which was crazy. She was the one who’d been so savagely attacked. “I’ve made a pass at you, so now you can stop wondering whether there’s something wrong with you. You can go on to your next conquest now.”
With that, the truck door was jerked open and Creed swung into the cab. The door banged loudly against its metal frame as it was pulled shut. An instant later the motor was gunned to life and the headlights glared across the lot. Layne moved to the side and pressed herself close to the car parked in the adjoining space as the truck pulled out. She had a short glimpse of his blunted profile, lean and ruthless in its stony contours.
Slowly Layne walked to her own car, still shaken by the incident. For a long time she simply sat behind the wheel, mindless of the cold, and tried to figure it out.
“Since when is it wrong to want people to like you?” Layne snapped, her hands moving to her hips in a challenging and defiant stance. “Every time I try to be friendly to you, I end up talking to the wind.”
“You want to be my friend? Then take the hint and leave me alone.” The natural huskiness in his voice became more pronounced as its pitch deepened to vibrate through her.
Confused and incredulous, Layne could only protest his unreasoning attitude toward her. “What is it with you? Do Isuddenly acquire two heads when you look at me? Is it the way I dress? The way I talk? What is it about me that you can’t stand?”
An exasperated sigh, heavily laced with anger, came from him as Creed briefly looked away, then leveled his gaze at her once more. There was less than a foot between them in this confrontation. A streetlamp threw a harsh light across the blunt, angular features of his unhandsome face.
“Lately you’ve done everything but stand on your head to get me to notice you. If it makes you feel any better, I have noticed you’ve got hair the red-brown color of a newborn calf—and how sweet-smelling your skin is.” A tautness was coming into his voice, a fiercely checked roughness that quivered along her nerve ends.
The tension between them seemed to take on a different quality that electrified her senses. The underlying heat was still there, but it was more sexual in origin. The beat of her pulse became shallow and uneven as a threat of confusion began to weave itself into her emotions.
“And I’ve noticed your lips,” Creed was continuing, his voice dropping lower and lower. “The way they—” His mouth came shut on the incomplete sentence, the angle of his jaw hardening.
His large hands reached out and snared her arms before Layne could jump backward to elude them. She was hauled roughly against him, her arms pinioned to her sides. There wasn’t time to draw more than a breath of surprise before the air was choked off by the bruising crush of his mouth.
Not an inch of maneuverability was allowed her as her head was forced backward by the brutal pressure until she thought her neck would snap. It was all pain, from the scrape of his short, whisker stubble to the grinding of her lips against her teeth.
When the initial shock passed, there was a roar of blood pounding in her ears. The heat of his breath seemed to set fire to her skin. Layne raged at her own impotency, trapped in the bear-grip of his arms with no chance to escape or struggle.
It was not the kind of kiss that had a beginning or an end. It was seizure and release, both in abrupt actions. Layne backed quickly from him, not sure if Creed intended to follow up that attack with another. The back of her hand was instinctively pressed to her sore and throbbing lips while she eyed him with wary revulsion. But he merely stood there, breathing roughly, his arms at his sides.
“Are you happy now?” he snapped at her like a wounded animal, which was crazy. She was the one who’d been so savagely attacked. “I’ve made a pass at you, so now you can stop wondering whether there’s something wrong with you. You can go on to your next conquest now.”
With that, the truck door was jerked open and Creed swung into the cab. The door banged loudly against its metal frame as it was pulled shut. An instant later the motor was gunned to life and the headlights glared across the lot. Layne moved to the side and pressed herself close to the car parked in the adjoining space as the truck pulled out. She had a short glimpse of his blunted profile, lean and ruthless in its stony contours.
Slowly Layne walked to her own car, still shaken by the incident. For a long time she simply sat behind the wheel, mindless of the cold, and tried to figure it out.
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