Knotted (Trails of Sin 1)

Jake lives by a code of etiquette that embodies southern manners, such as inviting in visitors, ma’aming and siring, and tipping his hat at the ladies. But his good ol’ boy upbringing also means he will fuck someone up if he thinks one of his own is threatened or harmed.

As he lays into Miles with the fury of a thousand fists, I don’t scream or interfere. He knows when to stop, and Miles isn’t worth putting myself in the path of Jake’s swings.

Miles doesn’t get a single punch in before Jake pulls away from his sprawled, bleeding body.

“Who the hell are you?” Miles staggers to his feet, his hand flying to his dripping nose and eyes on me. “Conor? What the fuck?”

“I told you to leave.” I step off the porch and pause beside Jake. “You don’t want me to say it again.”

His eyes flick to Jake, and he brushes off his grass-stained shirt. “You’ll be hearing from my lawyer.”

“Get your lawyer, Professor.” I perch my hands on my hips and tilt my head. “And I’ll circulate photos of you fucking your undergrad student.”

His behavior isn’t illegal, but it’s a transgression of professional ethics and forbidden by the university. It would wreck his career.

Jake angles the screen of his phone toward Miles, likely showing him the evidence.

His blood-rimmed nostrils widen, his gaze silently pleading with mine.

“Someone will come this week to collect her things.” Jake pockets the phone. “If you vandalize her possessions or fuck with her or her education, then me and you are gonna mix.” He tips his hat, his voice calm and deep. “Best be on your way.”

I return to the porch as Miles stalks to his car and drives out of the lot. Jake remains on the lawn until the car vanishes over the hill. Then he turns toward me.

His brown eyes roam my face and lower along my body. The perusal isn’t disrespectful like that of other men. The dip of his gaze is one of concerned examination, but it makes my stomach do its own dip all the same. A giddy, tingly dip that spreads to my thighs and twitches my toes.

I cross my arms. “How long were you eavesdropping?”

“Long enough to know…” He prowls toward me. “If brains were leather, Miles York wouldn’t have enough to saddle a June bug.”

“He has a Ph.D. in Animal Science.”

“He’s a fucking idiot.”

Climbing onto the porch, he draws close. Close enough for his scent to tangle with my breaths. He smells like sun-soaked fields, well-oiled leather, and hard work. The kind of work that hones muscle and sharpens reflexes. I want to press up against all that untamed masculinity and roll around in it.

No, I don’t.

“I’m mad at you.” I step back. “You shouldn’t have messaged him. That was my call, not yours.”

“You had that call last night and didn’t take it.” He stays with me, his eyes twin flames of intention.

“Stop interfering in my life.” I continue edging backward as the heat from his gaze scorches my body.

Whiskers shadow his jaw, his skin bronzed from the sun. He’s a mountain of a man, all shoulders and chest and powerful legs. And those jeans fit so low and provocatively around his hips I can see his religion.

He has the strength, endurance, and ferocity of a stallion, and I’m the mare within smelling range.

I retreat another step, bumping into a chair. “What are you doing?”

“I’ll give you a few seconds to be single.” He bends his knees, putting his face in mine. “But don’t get used to it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re about to be taken.” His expression smolders with red-blooded hunger.

“No—”

“You’re mine.”

“No,” I say louder and push him back. “I’m not yours. You let me go!”

“I did.” The corners of his mouth twitch downward, but there’s no apology in it as he advances.

Fuck him.

I shove him again. “The day I went to Chicago, do you remember what I said? No matter what, we stay together.” Another shove, and another, over and over until my hands grow furious, slapping, balling into fists, and pounding. “We were supposed to stay together. We were better than this!”

Silent and unresponsive, he lets me pummel him.

That just makes me angrier. “You ignored me for two years.” The side of my fist hits his chest. “I needed you. I was alone and scared and my dad…” Tears burn my eyes, and tremors shake my hands, weakening my strikes. “I just needed to hear your voice.”

“Miles, months, cities, years… That’s what you said.” He touches a knuckle under my chin, lifting it. “We’re bigger than anything that tries to come between us.”

“You threw me away.”

“I kept you safe.” His hand curls around my neck and drags me closer.

“You lied to me. You manipulated my life and my feelings.” I grip his shoulders, intending to push him. But my fingers dig in. And pull. “You deliberately hurt me, and I’ve been holding that pain for so long.” I clutch my chest. “Right here. Right where I used to hold you.”