Rocky Mountain Desire: Six Pack Ranch, Book 3 by Vivian Arend Page A

I’ve also heard shock therapy can help deal with it.”
    Matt headed down the hall toward the washroom. She watched, enjoying seeing his ass flex before mentally slapping some sense into herself.
    It wasn’t going to work, but maybe if she kept telling the lies they’d become true.
    She had both hands full when the phone rang a couple minutes later.
    “You want me to get that?” Matt called.
    “Please.” It was probably her friend Donna making a post-eggnog holiday shout-out.
    Hope finished topping up their glasses and turned, nearly tipping both full loads over his broad chest, he stood so close behind her. “Shit, warn a girl, will you?”
    “It’s for you.” He held out the phone like it was a snake. “I gotta go.”
    What? She scrambled to put down the glasses. “Oh. Okay.”
    He was already gathering his coat and slipping on his shoes. His face was white, body stiff. My God, what was wrong? Whoever was on the line could wait a few minutes while she discovered what was going on. She spoke into the phone. “Hang on a second.”
    “Hey, no problem, sis.”
    Hope froze, her sister’s voice echoing in her ear loud enough he must have heard. Hope slapped a hand over the mouthpiece. “Shit, Matt. I’m sorry.”
    He shook his head, digging in his pocket, looking for something. “Nothing to apologize for.”
    Hope snapped the phone to her mouth. “Helen? I’ll call you back.” She hung up and tossed it onto the counter, grabbed hold of his jacket and yanked him to a halt in the process of actually stepping through the exterior door. “Wait.”
    Matt’s broad shoulders filled the doorframe, the thick layers of his winter coat like armor facing her. “Hope, I just…”
    “Damn it, don’t you leave right now.”
    Matt spun. “You’re swearing at me? Fuck that. If I want to leave, I’ll leave. That’s what you said, isn’t it? That if it’s something I really want to do, then I can do it. And right now I want to go. In fact I want to go and get a stiff drink, and since I’m too fucking responsible to get shit-faced except when I’m safely at home, I’m gone.”
    She grabbed his collar, one side in each hand. “Fine. Go drink yourself into a bloody stupor. But this goes two ways. There’s something I want before you run.”
    Logic flew out the window. It was the last thing she should do and yet it had to be done. She yanked him forward.
    He was an unmovable wall, but she was strong enough the frantic jerk brought her to the mountain of his body. She lifted her chin and slammed her mouth against his, kissing fiercely. His hands hovered in midair for a moment, visible in her peripheral vision before she closed her eyes and simply took what she wanted.
    His hands didn’t stay unoccupied for long. She was lifted off her feet. The bulk of his muscular body shoved her backward as his tongue thrust between her lips. Her back hit the wall the same moment he switched from accepting her kisses to consuming her. She couldn’t groan, couldn’t let out anything but a brief gasp when he ripped his lips from hers and bit her neck, the entire front of his body rammed against hers, pinning her in place.
    Hope raised her legs and wrapped them around his hips, squeezing as tight as she could with her still relatively strong dancer’s muscles. If she didn’t get her point across one way, he was going to hear it loud and clear another.
    Oh God, he thrust his hips forward, making contact with her core, and his name burst from her, exploding like a cry for help. She clutched his head, jerking his hair to drag his mouth back into range so she could kiss him again. Excitement simmered in her core, tingles of pleasure radiating out from where he rubbed insistently against her, the solid ridge in the front of his jeans a magnet she was determined to stay connected with.
    And his kisses? She melted under his assault. Heated, wicked, violent even. Burning and stripping away some of the pain, some of her lingering