Page 33 of Kentucky Nights
Anyone who dares touch her again, I vow they will be a wonderful addition to the lasso.
I jump off the truck, my boots scuffing the ground as I walk to the edge where the roof stops. The pull to her is strong. Heat warms my body, sweat soaking through my shirt, and I tug it over my head. God, I feel like if I don’t get to Dru, I’ll rip out of my own fucking skin.
I want her.
I need her.
She’s mine. She’s all mine.
Why can’t I have her?
I can’t. I can’t take away her will.
I won’t take away her will.
One step into the rain and the cool touch of water extinguishes the wild fever I just had. I take a deep breath, my cock still stretching the denim jeans. I’ve never felt this kind of want before. I ache.
I fuckingache.
I crouch, leaping onto the second story of the barn. I keep a room up here for when I want to sleep closer to the stars.
Ripping off the chaps, I toss them on the small cot in the corner.
“Come on, Kentucky. Snap out of it.” I grip the edge of the barn door, leaning out the window to allow the rain to hit me again.
The water soaks my hair, drenching me until it slips over my lips like a beverage after a hard day’s work.
The need barely eases. But my skin isn’t on fire like it was before.
Fuck, my fangs throb in agony from wanting to sink into her. I reach to touch one, and the threat of my finger ghosting over the point causes another wave of pain to pulse through the tooth.
“Fuck!” I roar so loudly, the monster inside me grips my throat, turning my shout into a guttural howl, and I fall to the floor.
My nails dig into the floorboards, engraving long grooves as I fight the need to jump out of this window to take what is rightfully mine.
I rip my pants open with my claws, free myself, and fuck my fist. It will have to do.
For now.
I know I shouldn’t be spying on him. It isn’t right. He deserves his space just like I deserve mine, but when I walked into the empty house, I missed him.
That’s ridiculous, isn’t it? Missing someone I barely know. I don’t understand this need to be close to him at all times. Most of me believes he isn’t the monster I thought, yet, there is another part that is screaming to run and never look back.
The mere thought of turning my back on Kentucky has pain searing through my heart. Kentucky is so much more than I originally judged him to be. I thought he was a monster, a killer, someone who was playing with his food. Even though it has only been one very long day of being here, the truth is, I’m not sure if I do want to leave.
I don’t understand why, but he knows the answer. I’m not the kind of woman to leave when I don’t have all the information.I refuse to have anyone else make decisions for me. No one has ever had that power over me, and they never will. I’ve always listened to myself. My instincts have never steered me wrong. I only want to understand why I’m so drawn to him and why the thought of leaving makes me sick to my stomach.
He’s different than what I thought a vampire was. He’s a gentleman. He has manners that I’ve only seen in old romantic movies. He cares to have self-control if his fighting his vampire urges in the barn tells me anything. That means more in this world than he knows.
Most human men don’t even try that hard.
The rolling baritone of thunder has me blinking away my inner turmoil. I glance around the rustic living room, knowing I shouldn’t peek into the telescope again to peer into the pasture where Kentucky is. I need to get my mind off him.
It’s an impossible task when I’m surrounded by him.
The living room is open to the kitchen, surrounded by floor-to-ceiling windows, and there are more of them than drywall in this house. I wonder if he likes natural light or just likes being able to see outside. Whatever the reason, I love it.
There’s a worn leather sectional couch sitting in front of the fireplace, and a coffee table that looks handmade with the same designs as the bedroom door. There is simplicity to the decor. I can tell he hasn’t really made himself at home. Usually, people have personal touches like art hanging on the wall, pictures of friends or family, books lying around, but the house is almost stale.
