Her Savage Mountain Daddy

“We’re where you’re going to stay.”

He turned the car off, and I glanced out through the windshield. The cabin was small, but nice looking, and behind it, I could see the moon reflecting off the smooth-as-glass water of a lake.

“Where’s here?”

“Blackthorn Mountain. Or, close enough to it.”

“I’m not sure I’ve ever heard of it.”

He turned to me, his eyes studying my face, and that heated look of his warmed me in all sorts of ways it shouldn’t have been.

“Good,” he growled. He opened his door and stepped out into the night, coming around to open my door. A kidnapper with chivalry, apparently. He led me to the cabin, unlocking the door and ushering me inside as he flicked on a few soft lights. The place was cozy, that’s for sure. Although, something told me it’d be cozier if I hadn’t just been taken here.

“Why…” I bit my lip and looked at my feet as he shut and locked the door behind me.

“Speak.”

The alcohol from earlier was still in me, and so was the courage to keep talking that it brings with it. “Why did you kidnap me?”

I knew he’d told me that he was protecting me, and that he wasn’t going to kill me. But then, I was still alone in a cabin in the woods in the middle of nowhere with a big, muscled, tattooed, older stranger.

“I didn’t kidnap you.”

“Yes, you did.”

He eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching tight. “You want to pretend that we both don’t know what you saw the other night in that alley?”

I felt the color draining from my face as the shiver teased up my spine. Cormac just shook his head though.

“I already told you, I’m not here for that. I’m here to make sure those pieces of shit don’t hurt you.”

“Who are you?”

“Someone with a job to do.”

“And your job involves throwing girls half your age over your shoulder and hauling them away like some sort of caveman?”

A thin smile teased his lips. “When they act like little brats it does.”

I started to open my mouth to fling something back at him, but I shut it instead.

“Smart,” Cormac muttered.

“So, what, are you a cop or something?”

I was pretty sure of the answer before he even turned back.

“No, I’m not.”

“Shocker,” I muttered.

“I work with the FBI.”

My brows shot up. “Really?”

Cormac nodded, turning to flick on some more lights and throw some kindling and logs into the fireplace across the big main room. My eyes narrowed.

“Can I see your badge?”

He snorted, turning to glance back at me for a long second. His eyes moved over me and made me tingle in places I shouldn’t be, given the circumstances.

“No.”

“I think you have to show me your badge. It’s a rule.”

He stood from the fireplace. “No, it’s not. Now, the rules are, you stay put. You keep that ass in this cabin unless I—”

“Until I see a badge, I’m not doing a thing you say.”

He stiffened, and I could feel my core tighten as I watched the muscles in his arms tense and ripple. Slowly, he turned, and when that fierce, somewhat scary, and also totally hot gaze fell on me, I shivered.

“Are you still drunk?”

I shrugged, stiffening my jaw. “So?”

Cormac’s throaty growl rumbled across the room, making my heart skip.

“If you’re gonna act like a spoiled little brat, I’m going to treat you accordingly.”

I scowled at him, but he just turned and stooped again, this time pulling a zippo lighter from his pocket and sparking it against the newspaper and kindling he’d stuffed into the fireplace. My eyes darted around the small cabin, across the living area where he was crouched in front of the fireplace, across two half-open doors—one that I could see a bed through and the other a bathroom—and across the little kitchen area built into one corner. My eyes landed on the big old-fashioned looking tea kettle sitting on the stove top, and suddenly, the liquid courage flowing through my veins roared to life.

I moved before I could even think it through, lunging for the big iron tea kettle, whirling and rushing at his back. But Cormac turned and sprung to his feet faster than I’d ever in a million years have imagined, like he was some sort of machine, or jungle cat. He growled, his hand catching the kettle on the downstroke and easily wrenching it from my hand. He tossed it away, and I gasped as he grabbed me, those big hands of his on me once again as he whirled us, taking my breath away and slamming me into the wall. I gasped as his big, muscled body pressed into me, one hand pinning both my arms above my head, the other firmly on my hip.

His hands tightened, and again, I knew I should’ve been terrified, but I wasn’t. No, instead, I was something else entirely—something that was so wrong and so mortifyingly bad that I could feel my whole face bloom with the heat of it. Because when Cormac pinned me to the wall and growled into my ear as his hands tightened on my body, I wasn’t scared…