Page 140 of Bucked Hard

When I changed my clothes and headed out the door, I was pretty sure he was sitting just down the road behind the big oak tree in his big black truck.

Watching.

Protecting.

Staying just out of reach.

When I inch my hand upward, he catches my wrist in a grip that's both gentle and unbreakable. His fingers are rough, reaching all the way around easily, his thumb pressing against my racing pulse.

A rough chug of laughter escapes him. "Sweetheart, I notice every goddamn thing you do. Every smile. Every pout. Every inch of that dress that should be illegal."

My breath catches. Heat floods between my thighs, taking my panties down to the creek for a dip. The temptation of having him so close is like a weapon.

I've dreamed of this moment. Of breaking through that iron control. But now that it’s here? I have no freakin’ idea what to do but follow my instinct.

"You look like you do when you’re getting ready to break a horse,” I whisper, twisting my wrist in his grip, not to escape but to test him. To see how hard he will try to hold on. "Look at me. I'm notDaddy'slittle girl anymore."

"That's exactly what you are." He growls, his eyes drop to my lips and I catch a flash of something else in the new wildness there. His voice turns hard but smooth, like the leather on a well-ridden saddle. "A good man’s little girl.Yourfather. My best fucking friend. My responsibility. You’re a goddamn temptation no fucking twelve-step program can cure."

I lean closer, my braless breasts pushing against the thin fabric of my dress. "I don't want you to be responsible. I want you to be you. You’re not always a good man, Buck. You were wild once. I’ve watched you. For years. Be bad. With me."

His free hand shoots out, fingers gripping my chin, tilting my face up to his. His thumb drags across my bottom lip, rough skin catching on the sensitive flesh.

"You don't know what you're asking for," he warns, every word like a bullet to my heart. "I'm not those boys your age, fumbling in the dark hoping for some scraps you’d be willing to toss out. I'm the man that's going to ruin even the way you touch yourself, sweetheart. I'm gonna make you forget your own name but remember mine like it's tattooed on your tongue. When I finally let you leave our bed—if I ever do—the only words you’ll say are 'yes, sir’ and 'more.'"

I part my lips, take the tip of his thumb between my teeth, and bite down as my heart lodges in my throat. His pupils dilate, swallowing the hazel of his irises.

I exhale, releasing his thumb, the sharp tang of his skin lingering on my tongue. "I don't want a boy. I want a man. I know you’re like my second father. But I can trust you. I’m safe with you. It’s not wrong that I want you, is it…Papa?"

I throw out the name like the first pitch at the World Series.

I haven’t called him that in a long time. The name my own father gave him as the man that was helping raise me. Not quite a father, but not too far away.

Papa.

His grip tightens. For a breathless moment, I think he'll kiss me. Instead, he pulls back, eyes burning into mine.

“Get ready to be broken, little filly,” he says, turning away, igniting the engine of the truck, wheels spinning on gravel out of the parking lot and taking me into what I hope is going to be the night of my life.

Chapter3

Buck

The truck feels too small for what's happening inside. Her scent fills my lungs—it’s her usual sweetness but tonight there’s something wilder underneath. Something that's calling to the beast I've kept trapped in a cage for too damn long.

We didn’t talk much on the drive over. Didn’t need to. The tension sat between us, thick and taunting, louder than any conversation we could’ve had. She didn’t fidget. I didn’t ask questions. We both knew where this was going, even if neither of us dared say it out loud.

Now we’re parked in front of my place, the engine ticking as it cools. The air feels too heavy for something as innocent as breathing. And she’s still right there—so close, too close—looking at me like she’s already made her choice.

Her car is still outside the Rusty Spur, and I’ll get it for her in the morning. But tonight needs to begin right now.

"Last chance to run, little girl." My voice comes out like I've been gargling glass.

Her response is to slide closer, those big doe eyes never leaving mine. She’s a full-on Bible-thumping Revelations sort of temptation, the kind that will send me through every level of hell because I already know she will taste like heaven.

"I'm done running.” She snaps her tongue against her front teeth. "Big bad cowboy, what are you gonna do about me? Put me down…on my back?”

Twenty years of restraint snaps like a dry twig.

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