Wicked Game by Scarlett Sanderson Page B

her, something that matched his own needs and desires. He wanted her so badly he ached.
    He’d never been afraid to take what he desired. Yet with her he wanted to go slow. The Dominant in him clawed to take her but the man didn’t want to scare her. She was too important to rush things. He had to be sure of her needs.
    He turned the key in the ignition and listened to the bike’s engine come alive.
    He grinned. Now that he knew what she wanted, he was going to have her. He was going to give her exactly what she needed and then she’d see how suited they were.
    Let the games begin.

Chapter Two
     
    Her engine sputtered and died. The car came to a stop.
    “Fuck no.” Ruth turned the key. The ignition tripped over but didn’t start. She tried again. Nothing. “Great.”
    She peered into the dusk light. No other cars. Trust her to get stranded on a deserted road.
    She picked up her cell.
    Dead battery.
    What the hell was she going to do now? With no phone and no transport, she’d have to walk back into town. Typical. Dominic had warned her the car wouldn’t last much longer but she couldn’t afford to get it overhauled.
    Peachy. Fucking peachy. She gathered up her purse and got out of the car. Goddamn her lack of money.
    Frustration boiled to the surface and she kicked the heap of junk. “Argghh.”
    She inhaled the cool air and began walking. Maybe a walk would be good. Maybe she could work off some of the repressed sexual tension humming in her system. Rather than attend an awkward dinner with Hope, Ethan and Dominic, she’d chickened out, called and made an excuse of being sick. She hated letting anyone down but she refused to watch Dominic staring at her as if she were some needy, repressed librarian.
    A thick roar hummed in the distance.
    Her mouth went dry. She knew that engine.
    Dominic Sullivan’s bike came roaring around the bend.
    Relief flooded her system followed by a heavy dose of lust. Sitting astride his motorcycle, Dominic looked like a powerful god. He handled his machine with care and a little bit of love. She imagined his big hands caressing her skin with such reverence.
    Lust ignited. Her skin heated. Her nipples tightened, peaked, ached to be touched. Her strong reaction to his presence was irrational. She shouldn’t feel this way about a man she barely knew.
    He pulled over and unclipped his helmet. As he pulled it off, his hair tumbled around his shoulders. Ruth wanted to run her hands through the strands and pull his lips to hers.
    “Problems?” He quirked a brow and threw one lean leg over the bike before standing up.
    “Yeah. My car died.” She pointed to the heap of junk. “You were right. I should get a new one.”
    “I can fix it. It’s not a total loss.” He moved closer, invading her personal space. He was taller by a few inches so she had to look up. His woodsy, spicy scent engulfed her. Her hormones reacted, spiked. Blood thickened like molasses in her veins.
    He touched her chin, lifted it. Sparks sizzled in her nerve endings.
    Yowser.
    He asked, “You’re okay though? Nothing blew out on you?”
    His gaze bored into hers. The concern etched on his face made her heart trip over. She shook her head. Her voice wouldn’t work.
    He nodded and pulled out his cell. He stepped away from her and called the garage, arranged a tow.
    The brief respite was enough for Ruth to regain composure. She mentally counted to five, willing her hormones to stop racing around her system like little horny Pacmen. She itched to slide down the zipper of his jacket and bury her hands against the taut muscles of his chest.
    Lust danced a merry pattern in her stomach. She ached. Her pussy throbbed, demanded Dominic hammer his cock inside her.
    Rationality didn’t come into the equation. She wanted to fuck him. It was primal. Raw.
    She knew he wanted her but he was acting like the perfect gentleman.
    “Okay. Car’s sorted. Let’s get you back to town.”
    She frowned and pointed at the bike.