now, just like he’d threatened earlier, the scrape of his teeth on the delicate skin of her neck. And then of course she’d have to bite him back . . . on the lip maybe.
She blinked. “Then lie to me.”
“I’m not interested in your biting me at all. I’m even less interested in kissing you.”
“Well, good.” Then she wondered if the last part was also a lie. She was almost consumed with concern over whether or not it was a lie. Of course, she wanted it to be true. She wanted him to not want to kiss her.
Totally. Maybe. Almost.
He turned back to the trail again and forged on, and she urged her horse forward again. The whole rest of the way the beauty was lost on her as she castigated herself for her sick, wayward desires for a man she should want to punch, and not smooch. And also she did a fair amount of trying not to look at his broad shoulders and how they tapered down to a narrow waist and . . . and . . . she really tried not to look at his butt.
She could hardly see it—it was sitting on a horse, for heaven’s sake.
So she should stop wondering about it.
She bit her own lip and tried to shut her internal hussy up while they kept riding. When they got to the top of the ridge, the landscape broke open, revealing a clearing covered by grass and purple flowers.
It was the silence that struck her first, even before the view. A quiet so profound that it seemed to close in around them. The view hit her next. It was familiar—those same blue mountains she could see from her bedroom window, the same green that filled her vision when she looked out of the big living room windows at Elk Haven.
But outside like this, up on the mountain, it was different. She didn’t do things like this. She didn’t go outside and explore. She hadn’t in forever, and only now did she fully appreciate that the view of it from behind glass wasn’t the same as being out in it.
It felt wild, free. And with Quinn right there, it felt a little bit dangerous. Which only made it feel kind of exciting.
Which was annoying.
“It’s something, isn’t it?” he asked, getting off of the horse and walking toward the edge of the ridge, planting his hands on his lean hips.
“Yeah,” she said. She dismounted too, with less grace than he had, and moved to where he was standing. “Pretty amazing.”
“Different than Texas,” he said. “And Virginia.”
“I’ve never been . . . anywhere so I can’t compare it to anything. But I still think it’s beautiful.”
“Why haven’t you been anywhere, Lark?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Because Cole and Cade would never have had a chance to take me anywhere. Because . . . because.”
Because I’m too afraid to go anywhere or do anything.
The realization made a cold feeling settle in the pit of her stomach.
“You should travel. It’s good for you. It was good for me. If I would have stayed where I started . . . I don’t even like to think about it.”
Weird, because, yet again, Quinn seemed to be showing signs of a conscience, and she’d so firmly convinced herself he must be a man entirely without one. But he didn’t seem to be. It was that weird disconnect between the Quinn he was supposed to be—the monster she’d imagined—and the man she’d met.
“I don’t know. Google Earth is a pretty powerful tool for the borderline agoraphobe.”
“You don’t seem agoraphobic to me.”
She looked down at her hands and flicked a piece of dirt out from under her thumbnail. “Is there a name for the kind of person who just wants to feel safe?”
“Human,” he said.
She looked back up at him. “Oh, well, sadly life doesn’t come with enough of a guarantee for me. I’m highly suspicious of it in general.”
“Life has taken a lot of glee in kicking me in the balls repeatedly over the years, so I share some of your suspicion. But sometimes . . . sometimes you have to take a chance, even if you might get kneed in the groin again.”
He
She blinked. “Then lie to me.”
“I’m not interested in your biting me at all. I’m even less interested in kissing you.”
“Well, good.” Then she wondered if the last part was also a lie. She was almost consumed with concern over whether or not it was a lie. Of course, she wanted it to be true. She wanted him to not want to kiss her.
Totally. Maybe. Almost.
He turned back to the trail again and forged on, and she urged her horse forward again. The whole rest of the way the beauty was lost on her as she castigated herself for her sick, wayward desires for a man she should want to punch, and not smooch. And also she did a fair amount of trying not to look at his broad shoulders and how they tapered down to a narrow waist and . . . and . . . she really tried not to look at his butt.
She could hardly see it—it was sitting on a horse, for heaven’s sake.
So she should stop wondering about it.
She bit her own lip and tried to shut her internal hussy up while they kept riding. When they got to the top of the ridge, the landscape broke open, revealing a clearing covered by grass and purple flowers.
It was the silence that struck her first, even before the view. A quiet so profound that it seemed to close in around them. The view hit her next. It was familiar—those same blue mountains she could see from her bedroom window, the same green that filled her vision when she looked out of the big living room windows at Elk Haven.
But outside like this, up on the mountain, it was different. She didn’t do things like this. She didn’t go outside and explore. She hadn’t in forever, and only now did she fully appreciate that the view of it from behind glass wasn’t the same as being out in it.
It felt wild, free. And with Quinn right there, it felt a little bit dangerous. Which only made it feel kind of exciting.
Which was annoying.
“It’s something, isn’t it?” he asked, getting off of the horse and walking toward the edge of the ridge, planting his hands on his lean hips.
“Yeah,” she said. She dismounted too, with less grace than he had, and moved to where he was standing. “Pretty amazing.”
“Different than Texas,” he said. “And Virginia.”
“I’ve never been . . . anywhere so I can’t compare it to anything. But I still think it’s beautiful.”
“Why haven’t you been anywhere, Lark?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Because Cole and Cade would never have had a chance to take me anywhere. Because . . . because.”
Because I’m too afraid to go anywhere or do anything.
The realization made a cold feeling settle in the pit of her stomach.
“You should travel. It’s good for you. It was good for me. If I would have stayed where I started . . . I don’t even like to think about it.”
Weird, because, yet again, Quinn seemed to be showing signs of a conscience, and she’d so firmly convinced herself he must be a man entirely without one. But he didn’t seem to be. It was that weird disconnect between the Quinn he was supposed to be—the monster she’d imagined—and the man she’d met.
“I don’t know. Google Earth is a pretty powerful tool for the borderline agoraphobe.”
“You don’t seem agoraphobic to me.”
She looked down at her hands and flicked a piece of dirt out from under her thumbnail. “Is there a name for the kind of person who just wants to feel safe?”
“Human,” he said.
She looked back up at him. “Oh, well, sadly life doesn’t come with enough of a guarantee for me. I’m highly suspicious of it in general.”
“Life has taken a lot of glee in kicking me in the balls repeatedly over the years, so I share some of your suspicion. But sometimes . . . sometimes you have to take a chance, even if you might get kneed in the groin again.”
He
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