Page 11 of Trig
Lusting after a man who–
“No, sugar,” he said, interrupting my panicked thoughts. “I’m not engaged. I’m not in a relationship with any woman.”
I frowned, totally confused. “Then why–”
“Because I was waiting for you.” The words were said so simply, but they made no sense.
I set my hand on my chest. “What? Me? Are you crazy?”
He nodded, then slowly stood. Taller and taller he became, making our size difference more than apparent. I had to tip my chin way back to keep my gaze on his dark one.
I swallowed hard when he stepped closer. Then closer still.
“You.” The one word was like a stone that sent a ripple through my core. “Definitely not crazy.”
“You can’t make me stay.” He wanted to, what, keep me? The idea of belonging to someone as… perfect as Trig was appealing, but Mr. Trout was dangerous. Trig might not know it, but I was a threat to him.
“The snow outside says otherwise,” he countered.
“When it stops,” I clarified. “I’ve gotta go… um, I don’t belong here.” I couldn’t stay here with him and risk it.
“If you give it some time, you’ll find you do belong here,” he said, his voice calm, although everything about him screamed intense and… virile. “And you do belong to me.”
I shook my head, unnerved. Did I believe him? Was he honest in his interest in me or was he like some of the men Mom brought home? They’d see me and find more interest in me than her. I hadn’t done anything, wore anything special or said anything those times to lead them on.
I’d become Mr. Trout’s fiancée because Father had been in debt and used me to get them paid off. He’d never even met me. Now, Trig said I belonged to him.
Did I dare believe him? Did I dare give over to these newfound feelings? The butterflies. The ache between my legs? The pull and desire for Trig to touch me. To press me into his bed. To make me his.
“What happened to dating?” I asked. “First kiss? Bowling. Dinner and a movie. Why do men want me without knowing anything about me?”
“I’m trying. And what other men?” he said, eyes narrowing.
“There are no other men! I just… I don’t know anything about you either,” I countered, wanting to like him, but scared to do so.
He set his hand on his flannel-covered chest. “Trig Wilder. Thirty-four. Oldest sibling. Champion bull rider.”
My mouth dropped open.
“You fling yourself off a wild beast?” I asked, although secretly I thought it was really hot.
A grin spread across his face. “The goal is to stay on,” he corrected. “I never said I was smart like you.”
“You still do it?”
“Retired now. Look, sugar. I think we can agree, at least, that you’re not going anywhere until the snow lifts.”
He was right. We could argue but it wasn’t going to change the weather.
“Yes,” I conceded.
“You’re mine until then. We’ll take this time to get to know each other. Can’t take you bowling, but we can do movies on the couch. And definitely kiss.” His hand came up and stroked my hair back.
A phone rang, startling me. Trig swore under his breath and stepped away to grab it off the counter. “Yeah?” he asked, notsounding all too thrilled to be interrupted. “Yes, she’s fine. You did what?” He sighed and eyed me. Grinned. “Fine. Good. Yes.” His gaze shifted to the window and the snowy scene outside. “Later. Hold them all off until then. Thanks.”
He hung up, set the phone down. “That was my friend, Beau. He was with me last night when we found you. Wanted to see how you’re doing.”
He came over, took my hand and tugged me toward the table. This time, instead of sitting beside him, he sat down and tugged me onto his lap.
