Page 68 of Ride the Sky

“Serves you right,” I tell her, my gaze running over those long, lean legs, those bright, bold tattoos that hug her muscled thighs.

“I can do it.” The frustration in her hazel eyes makes my chest pinch. Gritting her teeth, she does some sort of awkward shimmy, but she’s in jeans, and she can’t shuck them that easily. She refused to wear a dress, because apparently, she’ll make nothing easy on herself.

“Shit,” she swears, trying to lower her pants, but the stiffness in her leg stops her.

Fed up watching her struggle, I stomp forward and yank her pants down.

She gasps.

I smirk. “Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

She bares her teeth, venom in her eyes. She’s as ill-tempered as a yearling. “Asshole,” she hisses.

I straighten and grip her arm. “Damn it, Fallon. Stop fighting me and let me take care of you.”

She lifts her chin. “And if I don’t?”

My jaw tightens. “Fallon Calamity McGraw—”

“You promised you’d never use that against me,” she hisses.

The memory of her confessing her middle name has me grinning. “I ain’t using it against you, I’m telling you how it is. I’ll drag you out of here if I have to and haul your ass to Davis and Dakota’s.”

Fear flares in her icy hazel eyes. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would, Fallon.” I lean in, not phased by Fallon’s stabby, murderous ways. “Fucking try me.”

A stare-down ensures. She’s the first to cave.

“Ugh. Fine,” she says, lifting the tattooed canvas of her arms.Fine.That four letter word is going to be the death of me. “Help me.”

I pull her against me, trying not to crush her against my chest. In my arms, she’s warm and soft, and it’s fucking torture being this close to her and not being able to touch her the way I want. She loops her arms around my neck. Her fingertips dance in my hair, on accident, purpose, either way, my cock slams against the zipper of my jeans.

Shit.

I clench my jaw as I back her up to the toilet.

Don’t come in your fucking pants, you goddamn jackass.

With some maneuvering, I get Fallon over the toilet and slowly lower her. She groans, the sound tearing at my heart. She’s stiff and sore. She’s been battered, bruised, and then went on a cross-country jaunt straight out of the hospital.

She’s a warrior, but even warriors have a breaking point.

I turn away as she reaches for her panties. Facing the door, I blow out a breath, beg for my cock to die a slow death in my pants.

I feel her eye roll. “You can wait in the hall, you know.”

“Lost bathroom privileges,” I grit out.

The sounds of her peeing fill the bathroom.

“I bet you get off on this, don’t you, pervert.”

“Shut up.”

“Okay,” she says after a few more seconds. “I’m done.”

We do the whole dance again. I get her off the toilet, pants up, hands washed. She practically lunges for her walker, ready to get the hell away from me.

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