(Highest Ranking #76 in Romance)
Chiara is a journalist. A good one. For the world to know that, all she needs is a scoop. Her instincts tell her that the Riders of Tyr have a few stories to offer to the public and she decides to expose them. Will h...
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Chiara
I let the water down my body and I use the soap he brought me along with a clean t-shirt. The surrealism of the situation doesn't elude me. On the contrary, it makes the shower last a little bit longer than needed. I must clear my head cause the lines between following the plan and falling for the man have gotten dangerously unclear.
First of all, even by normal standards, this too soon. I mean, I was raised a Catholic and though I am not a believer I do not give it up on the first date. And I doubt that "saved by a cougar after escaping him" qualifies as a first date. Secondly, this is too much. He is an outlaw, for crying out loud, and I am a journalist. And thirdly, this is too confusing and messed-up.
That's when I hear a commotion outside, things breaking and then shuffling. I frown and I finish up as fast as I can. I dry myself and put on clothes before I head out.
"Girard?" I try but the cabin is empty.
He is nowhere to be found. All I see is a plate of pancakes on the table and those damn keys right next to them. Twice now, he has given me a way out. And for some reason, I frown angrily. He wants me away, out of his hair. All I am to him is trouble, a chore he never wanted to take up, a disruption to his peace and quiet.
I was a fool to believe otherwise. I have seen how men in the club treat women. They expect to be served free sex and that's what I did. I gave myself to him and he took me. That's all. All the other emotion I thought I saw in his eyes while we made love... No!... While we fucked. That's all I was for him. A fuck.
And now he wants me away, maybe praying that I drop to my death or get mauled by wild animals, wounded as I am so he won't have to do it himself and have an excuse for his brothers. I escaped, I died. Screw him but I won't make it!
I push the keys away, take the plate with me and go outside. He is not there either. Nibbling my breakfast off the plate, I go round the house. I hear noises coming from the shed in the back so I hop there, careful not to strain my ankle.
When I get closer, I see him in a shed, bend over a working bench with his back to me. I try to look at the place but I am captivated by the mesmerizing tensing and relaxing of his muscled back. Madonna, he's so gorgeous! How the hell am I supposed to hate a man that looks like that effortlessly?
I can't tear my eyes off him and as if he read my mind, he turns and looks at me over his shoulder. His tense face relaxes and I see a hint of a smile bloom on his fleshy lips. But he strangles it swiftly and goes back to work with a frown.
"Need anything?" He growls.
Asshole.
"Just to inform you that you won't get rid of me that easily," I bite down.
His eyes come back to me and I see rage in those eyes. Good!
"I guess your plan was for me to take you to the truck and drive you somewhere, right?" He bites every word.
