Page 42 of Princess

Grant evidently didn’t give a shit about being away from me.

He didn’t follow me when I walked away after our argument yesterday. He didn’t try to make it better or say goodbye.

He just left me. And now he apparently doesn’t care enough to come see me and let me know he’s still alive.

It’s silly to be so upset about it. It’s hardly the most important thing happening here. People’s lives are in jeopardy, which matters a lot more than the state of my heart. But I feel like crying anyway. And also shaking him at the same time.

I go out to the porch and see the Jeep parked right out front. A couple of others have come over to talk to Grant, evidently interested in getting a report on the trip.

And he’s talking to them casually. Calmly.

Not even glancing around for me.

At least he’s alive. Still dressed in worn, dirty jeans and T-shirt. His brown hair burnished almost auburn by the sun.

His back is to me. He doesn’t know I’m standing here. And he doesn’t care.

Despite everything Faith just told me and the glimmers of hope it gave me, reality hits me hard.

If the man doesn’t care enough to find me after being gone the way he was, then how much feeling can he really be hiding, no matter how tightly wound he happens to be?

Tears are pulsing behind my eyes, and my throat aches painfully. I don’t head for Grant. I walk to the left. Ham is out there, working on cleaning out one of the outbuildings. I might as well go help him.

At least Ham likes to have me around.

I’ve reached him and managed to say hello and pick up a rake to help him clear out hay when I suddenly feel a strong grip on my left shoulder. Ham grins and shrugs as I turn around to see an unsmiling Grant standing a few inches away from me.

My heart jumps. It actually jumps at the sight of his familiar face, big body, and deep blue eyes. “So you’re back.” I’m not sure how my voice reflects such disinterested irony. It’s not at all a reflection of how everything inside me is struggling to leap out of my skin right now.

His eyes narrow slightly. The tension in his expression is almost fierce. Without a word, he propels me forward with that hand on my shoulder, walking me out of the barn and across the yard.

“What the hell?” I grumble, although I don’t try to get out of his grip. I walk with him willingly, soon realizing he’s taking me to our room in the bunkhouse. “Are you still mad about yesterday? Because I’m not sorry about that. You were shitty to me, and I don’t deserve to be treated like that even if in your own obnoxious way you were trying to protect me.”

We’ve gotten to our room. He guides me inside and then closes the door before he turns us both around so my back is to the wall and he’s standing right in front of me.

I scowl at him. “And I don’t appreciate being manhandled. If you want something, just ask for it like a regular human being.”

The funny thing is I still have no idea what’s about to happen. I can feel intensity radiating off him. I can see that primal look in his eyes. My heartbeat has accelerated instinctively in anticipation for whatever is coming next.

But I still think it’s going to be a fight.

So I’m stunned when he grabs my face in both hands and kisses me hard. I just stand there for a minute, hands trapped between our bodies, as his lips move roughly over mine, his tongue pushing all the way into my mouth. He steps into me with the kiss until my back is pressed against the wall.

It hurts my shoulder blades. And awakens everything else inside me.

When my mind finally processes what’s happening, my body and heart are already responding. I wrap both arms around his neck and try to draw him closer, opening my mouth wider for him and letting out a low, throaty moan.

He’s urgent. Almost needy. One of his hands curls around the back of my head while the other slides down to feel me all over. It ends up cupping my ass over my jeans. He applies pressure, easing us together snugly until I can feel the bulge of his erection in the front of his pants.

Arousal pulses between my thighs. I lift one leg, shamelessly trying to wrap myself around him. He’s rocking into me now, and I desperately want to feel it even more.

He’s still kissing me. He can’t seem to stop. He lowers his other hand so he can heft me up a few inches, holding me between his strong body and the wall as I wrap both legs around his middle. In this position, I can feel the pressure of his erection directly against my pussy. I grind myself against him, not even caring how embarrassingly eager I’m acting.

We’ve both still got our clothes on, but it feels like we’re having sex anyway. I grunt into the kiss as he pumps his hips against me. I might be able to come just from this.

But he moves before I do, carrying me over to the bed. He strips off my jeans, panties, and shirt before he climbs on top of me. I’m fumbling with his pants, trying to free his cock, when he kisses me again.

I lose myself in the kiss. I stop fighting with his zipper. It feels like I’m melting and about to explode at the exact same time, and I don’t know how my mind can contain all those feelings at once.

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