Page 35 of Leather & Lies

“What I’d like,” he says softly, dangerously, “is to get you warm and dry. What happens after that depends entirely on you.”

Thunder shakes the shack. Or maybe I’m the one trembling.

Jackson takes a step toward me, then stops. His control is a tangible thing, filling the small space between us. “There are dry clothes in that trunk.” When I don’t move, his voice hardens. “Don’t make me strip you myself, hellcat.”

The nickname sends liquid heat through my veins. Two can play at this game of control.

I turn my back on him and open the trunk, making a show of bending over. The clothes inside are new, tags still attached. Of course they are. I pull out soft flannel and worn denim, letting the movement draw attention to my wet clothes clinging to every curve.

“Face the wall.” My voice comes out husky instead of commanding.

He doesn’t move. “Shy now?”

“Suit yourself.” I peel off my soaked shirt, hyperaware of his presence burning against my back. The air is cool against my wet skin, but the woodstove is already throwing heat. Or maybe that’s just the weight of his gaze, so heavy I can barely breathe.

“You knew about the unstable trail.” I step out of my jeans, reaching for the dry ones. “You deliberately brought us this way.”

“Yes.” No pretense, no denial. Just that deep voice that makes my insides clench.

I turn to face him, letting him see exactly what he’s been orchestrating. His eyes go midnight dark, but he doesn’t move. So perfectly controlled. So goddamn contained.

Something wild rises in me. The same reckless spirit that lets me gentle dangerous stallions, that makes me climb on animals other trainers won’t touch. The need to break that iron control.

“You arrange everything, don’t you, Jackson?” I stalk toward him, wet hair dripping down my back. “Every detail. Every moment.” Another step. “But you didn’t plan for this.”

I fist my hands in his shirt and drag him down to my mouth.

For one heartbeat, he’s frozen in shock. Then his control shatters.

His hands tangle in my hair, yanking my head back as he takes over the kiss. There’s nothing gentle about it. All teeth andtongue and pent-up need. He tastes like rain and lightning, and I’m drowning in it. Drowning in him.

He walks me backward until I hit the wall, pinning me there with his body. One hand stays fisted in my hair while the other grips my hip hard enough to bruise. Marking me. Claiming me.

I bite his lower lip in retaliation. His growl vibrates through my bones.

“Careful.” He breaks the kiss to drag his teeth down my throat. “You’re playing with fire.”

“Maybe I like getting burned.” I arch against him, defiant even now.

His laugh is dark against my skin. “Oh, I know you do.” He pulls back to meet my eyes, and the possession there steals my breath. “But you forgot something very important.”

“What’s that?”

His smile is pure predator. “I always win.”

The words are still hanging in the air when he crushes his mouth back to mine. This kiss is pure punishment—all dominance and demand. His hand tightens in my hair, forcing my head back until my throat is exposed to his teeth.

I should fight it. Should push him away. Instead, my body betrays me, melting into him as he marks a path down my neck.

“That’s it.” His voice is rough velvet against my skin. “Stop fighting what you need.”

The words snap me back to myself. What am I doing? I jerk my hand up to slap him. He blocks it easily, laughing against my throat. The sound sets my blood on fire.

“Still so wild.” He catches both my wrists in one hand, pinning them above my head. “Even when you’re trembling for me.”

“I hate you.” But I’m arching into him, desperate for more contact.

Lightning flashes, illuminating his face. For a moment I glimpse something raw in his expression, something that makes my chest tight. Then thunder crashes, and his mask is back in place.

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