Page 13 of Horned to be Wild
“I… I shouldn’t have done that,” he muttered when he freed them, his voice rough with a strange mix of desire and what sounded like fear. He ran a shaking hand over his face, refusing to meet her eyes. “This was… a mistake.”
Before she could form a coherent thought, let alone a sentence, he turned and fled, disappearing into the woods just as he’d done the first night.
She stared after him, her lips still tingling, her body thrumming with unfulfilled desire. What had just happened? The kiss hadbeen… incredible. Earth-shattering. She’d felt his response, his undeniable hunger. So why had he pulled away? Why had he looked at her with such conflict in his eyes?
Slowly, she rose to her feet, brushing dirt and leaves from her clothes. Mabel looked up at her and bleated mournfully, as if to apologize for her part in what had transpired.
“It’s all right, sweetheart,” she assured her, stroking the goat’s soft fur before she scampered off after Torin.
The rejection stung, but something deeper than hurt lingered beneath the surface. That kiss had revealed something important. Something real. He might be running from whatever was building between them, but his response to her had been genuine and powerful. There was no faking that kind of passion.
“He’s scared,” she realized. “He’s not rejecting me. He’s protecting himself.”
As she walked the remaining short distance to her cottage, she kept replaying every moment of their encounter. The way his powerful arms had held her so carefully. The desperate hunger in his kiss. The conflict in his eyes before he’d fled. There was no denying their connection. She’d seen it in his eyes, felt it in the way he’d responded to her. There was something there, something powerful and undeniable. And she wasn’t about to let him run away from it.
As soon as she was inside, she called Etta.
“Having fun with the monsters?” her friend asked gaily, and she sighed.
“Not as much fun as I’d like to have.”
“Ooh, tell me all about it.”
She gave Etta an abbreviated version of their interactions, including the way he’d bolted after the kiss. She could almost hear her friend’s mind spinning.
“I think you’re right about him being scared,” Etta said at last. “Which means he’s going to need a lot of convincing—are you up for that?”
“Definitely.”
“Do you think he’ll beupfor it?” Etta teased, and the memory of that enormous bulge against her stomach made her shiver.
“I’m quite sure he will.”
Etta laughed. “I’m glad to hear it. Now here are a few suggestions…”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Torin strode home through the forest, his pace quickening with every step until he was practically running. The cool evening air did nothing to calm the fire in his veins, the heat pulsing through him. He could still feel the ghost of her lips on his, could smell her sweet scent clinging to his clothes. His cock ached, straining against his jeans with an almost painful intensity.
What the hell had he been thinking? That moment of weakness, that moment of surrender, could have been catastrophic. The way her body had felt against his, so soft and perfect, the way she’d responded so eagerly to his kiss, had nearly driven him to madness. He’d wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life, his hunger unleashed like a starving animal finally offered sustenance. He’d practically devoured her, and then… he’d run away like a coward.
She must be terrified. Repulsed.
I should go back and beg her forgiveness, he thought, then immediately rejected the idea. It would be better for both ofthem if he stayed as far away from her as possible. At least that way he couldn’t hurt her.
By the time he reached his cabin, the sun had set. He slammed the door behind him and leaned heavily against it, his chest heaving as though he’d run for miles. The image of her face, flushed and glowing, was seared into his memory. He couldn’t erase it. He couldn’t forget the feel of her pressed against him, the taste of her lips on his.
He paced the confines of his cabin like a caged beast as the memory consumed him for the hundredth time. Desperate to escape his guilt and his wildly circling thoughts, he stomped outside and switched on the lights under his woodshed and set to work. He split logs until his muscles screamed and his palms were raw but the physical exhaustion wasn’t enough to calm his mind. When the last of his logs were split and stacked, he sank onto a sawhorse and put his face in his hands.
“What was I thinking?” he asked Mabel.
The goat had come trotting back shortly after he returned, but instead of coming to his side as she usually did, she’d curled up outside the shed, watching him with what he could swear was a disapproving look.
“This is all your fault,” he told her now. “If you hadn’t gotten us tangled up, it never would have happened.”
Or would it? Would he still have kissed her? If she’d looked up at him with those wide, trusting eyes, would he have been able to resist her? He wasn’t sure. And that uncertainty terrified him.
He closed his eyes, remembering the softness of her lips, her eager enthusiasm, the way her curves had felt beneath his hands. It had been like a dream. A perfect, impossible dream, and for amoment, he’d let himself believe it could be real. That he could be wanted. That he could be enough for her.
