Mastered by Malone (Haven, Texas 6)

But instead of looking away or backing down, she just glared up at him. “Listen, you can tell me what to do, make me do it, but you can’t tell me what to think.”

We’ll see about that.

“Tell me what happened when you went in to get your phone.”

“I’m done talking. I have a headache; I’m going to lay down.”

“I’m sorry you have a headache,” he said solicitously. “You can certainly have some time to lay down, we can take care of your punishment later when you’re feeling better.”

She froze. “You cannot be serious.”

“I am.”

She ran her fingers through her hair. “What is wrong with you? What is wrong with me? Why am I staying here? Why don’t I want to leave? I should hate it here. I should hate you. You go from cold to caring to cold again and now you’re . . . you’re threatening to spank me. What did I do to deserve this? I’m a good person. I pay my taxes on time. I don’t lie. I hold the door open for people. I always use my manners. I was living a safe, boring little life until some monster who had a beef with my boss came in and shot five people in the head. Just like that. Boom! Gone.”

Suddenly, she broke into hysterical laughter

And he’d had enough.

Oomph.

He grabbed hold of her arm, pulling her into him. It took her by surprise, she hadn’t even seen him move, and it took a moment for her to realize she was plastered against him, front to front. He wrapped his hand around the nape of her neck and gave a slight squeeze.

“Baby. Calm down.”

Calm down? She was calm. Because rational, calm people laughed after telling someone how their coworkers had all been shot, right?

Great. He probably thought she’d lost her mind.

“Sh. Baby. It’s okay.”

She forced herself to quieten. Baby. She liked when he called her baby. Way better than Calamity Jane. No one wanted to be thought of as a walking calamity, causing chaos to break out wherever she went.

Although sometimes he called her babe. That was nice too. Different from baby. Baby was said in a softer voice. It made her feel like she meant something to him. Like he cared. Babe was usually said in a sexier voice. Rougher. Sometimes tinged with impatience.

And she found herself calming down. She wasn’t sure if it was the touch, his words or his voice. But the tension that had her stomach tied in knots faded, her heart was still beating too fast, but for an entirely different reason.

Damn he was sexy.

He lifted one eyebrow. “Babe. You gotta stop staring at me like that.”

There it was. Babe. Sexy. Yum. “Why?”

She wasn’t quite sure what he meant about the way she was staring at him. She was just looking up at him. That’s what you did when someone was holding you pressed against them. You looked, right?

“Because you stare at me like I’m your favorite treat and I’m gonna take up the invitation in your eyes. And I’m pretty sure you’re not ready for what will happen if I do that.”

“I . . . there is no invitation in my eyes.”

“No?” He leaned in close, until she could feel his breath against her lips. That shouldn’t be sexy. Her whole body shouldn’t shiver with how close he was. “You got to learn not to dare me.”

That hadn’t been a dare, had it?

And then she didn’t care. She didn’t care because his mouth was on hers, and, dear Lord, she was certain she was having an out-of-body experience. His free hand moved to her ass, cupping it. No one had ever squeezed her butt while kissing her.

She melted against him. Her panties grew wet. Her mouth opened on a sigh, and allowed him in. He ravished. He conquered. And, oh, did she let him. Hell, she all but wrote him an invitation.

Please, fuck me. Fuck me hard. Now.