Page 59 of Wild For You

Chapter Sixteen

Cash

“Erin.” My voice slices through the air, cutting through the roaring sound of the ancient engine.

She’s not moving. She’s not reacting in any way. The tractor moves closer to her.

“Get up,” I shout and surge forward, oblivious to the blinding pain shooting through my body. It seems the damn crutches are slowing me down more than usual. My gaze switches between Erin and the beast of a vehicle, as I push my muscles to the limit. My arms are burning from the effort and my back is drenched in sweat.

It feels like an eternity before I reach her. As I peer at her unmoving body, fear grips hold of me.

What if she’s dead?

I could never forgive myself. Guilt and anger flash through my mind, fighting against each other in equal measure. It was a stupid move to send her away. It was an even more stupid move to coerce her into being intimate with me. That one was sure as hell going to backfire.

I should have stopped her from leaving rather than play games with her.

Push and pull.

I should have never given her reason to lose hope.

In slow motion, I watch the tractor moving toward us. There isn’t enough time to get away, not on those damn crutches. I don’t care if I get hurt, but I couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to her.

With a silent promise on my lips that I’ll do what she wants from now on, I reach out for her, pressing her body against mine. I pull us both out of the way a moment before the tractor rolls over the spot she’s just occupied.

Pressing Erin hard against my chest, I close my eyes.

A loud bang cuts through the air and smoke fills my nostrils. Then the rumbling stops.

Her heart beats against my chest. I open my eyes and peer at her, worried.

I saved her. Somehow.

“Erin,” I balance precariously on my leg as I brush her cheek gently. That’s when I see the wound on her forehead, close to her hairline. The skin’s grazed. There’s no blood; no swelling. But what do I know? I’m not a doctor.

My jaw sets.

Fuck.

She’s hurt, and I’m to blame.

Erin’s eyes flutter open, and she peers around her, confused.

“What happened?” She takes in my worried glance.

“I’m sorry,” I mutter.

My mouth crashes against hers on impulse, silencing the questions on her lips. I taste her mouth with fervor, savoring every part of it because it’s the only way to make me forget the horrific images that could have unfolded if I didn’t make it on time to save her.

Kissing her is the only thing that makes sense.

As I brush my lips against hers, I expect her to push me away, but instead she wraps her arms around my neck. Her body’s soft against mine, willing, eager to both give and take.

My tongue spears through her lips as I slide one hand around her waist, molding her to me. Echoing the moan vibrating in her throat, I kiss her with an urgency that takes my breath away all the while thanking whoever’s up there that she’s alive.

***

Eventually, we return to the house in silence. I instruct Erin to wait in the living room as I retrieve pads and antibiotic ointment. She remains quiet as I treat her head wound, though I can’t tell whether from shock or pain.

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