Buckled (Trails of Sin 2)

She doesn’t try to free herself from the shackle of his belt. Staring at the ceiling, she saws her legs together like a cricket calling for its mate.

Great. Now I’ll be stuck with that visual while I fall asleep to the chirp of crickets tonight.

I return my attention to the bathroom doorway, watching for signs of movement. Where the hell is he? Something doesn’t feel right.

As I turn away from the window, a hand claps over my mouth. Another wraps around my throat, pressing against my windpipe.

A chill grips my spine. My eyes throb, and my muffled scream vibrates in my ears.

I grip the fingers at my airway, scratching at the immovable collar of muscle and bone as my heart thumps out of control.

“Didn’t realize you like to watch.” Jarret’s southern drawl caresses my ear from behind.

My nails bite into his skin as oxygen floods in and out of my lungs. He’s not strangling me, but it feels like it. My stomach tenses with cramps, and fear rapidly exhausts my body.

“It’s more comfortable inside.” He nips at the shell of my ear, his breath hot and terrifyingly calm. “McKenna won’t mind an audience.” A trace of annoyance clips his voice. “She goes out of her way for attention.”

His shirtless chest presses against my back like a hot slab of concrete. I force my hands to release his arm and twist my hips, reaching for the knife in my waistband.

He lets go.

I spin away, stumbling backward and wheezing for air. “Touch me like that again, and I’ll cut off your fingers and shove them up your ass.”

“How would you do that? Bite them off with your little kitten teeth?”

“Too much work.” I pull the knife from its sheath and point it at him.

“No shit.” He rubs his jaw. “Where’d you get that?”

“The knife store.”

He stalks forward until the blade touches his chest. I snap my teeth at him, but he presses closer.

“How did you sneak out of the bathroom?” I hold the weapon steady, dimpling his pectoral with the tip.

“How did you not know the bathroom connects to the hall? It’s a standard floor plan.” He pushes against the knife, causing blood to well beneath the steel.

He’s insane. Certifiable.

“Do you hear voices in your head?” I lift a brow.

He flashes a dark smile. “You hear them, too?”

Now he’s just fucking with me.

“How did you know I was out here?” I edge backward, just a step.

He stays with me. “How did you know to find me at the gas station?”

He knew I was there?

Shit! I suck at this. “I figured you’re the type of guy who buys condoms on his way to a family get together.”

His smile falls. “You have a killer body, but you need a better workout routine for that mouth. I have something that’ll help with that.”

“What? A big dick? Too bad you have more of that in your personality than you do in your pants.”

“You don’t believe that.”

His gaze lowers to my shirt, and I glance down. Several buttons popped free during the scuffle, and the fabric hangs open and off to the side, with the cup of my transparent bra in full view. And there’s my nipple, hard and swollen and right out there for the world to see.

“Dammit.” I yank the flaps of the shirt together, mortified.

“It’s unfortunate.”

“What?”

“How fucking beautiful you are, all fiery and worked-up with your teeth bared and nipples begging to be bruised. Can’t remember the last time I was this hard.”

I keep my eyes on his, refusing to acknowledge him with a glance at his groin. The brunette inside didn’t have any issues making him hard. Doesn’t exactly make me feel like a special snowflake.

“Doesn’t matter what my dick thinks.” He crosses his arms, and the movement flexes his biceps. “I don’t fuck reporters.”

“Oh well, good, because I don’t fuck assholes.”

He grins. I expect a vulgar retort about butt sex, but he leaves it alone.

“Sure you don’t want to come in?” He nods at the window. “If your story includes details about my cock, you need to get the size right.”

“Hmmm.” I tap the flat side of the blade against my chin. “I just remembered. I have to be somewhere slash I’d rather scoop out my eyes with a rusty spoon.”

I breeze past him and head toward the street with as much dignity as I can muster with a gaping shirt, no shoes, and a knife dangling from my hand.

“Maybe Quinn.”

I pause at the call of his voice and glance over my shoulder.

“If you’re thinking about harassing McKenna for information about my family, don’t bother.” He prowls to the front porch and rests a hand on the door handle. “In case you failed to notice, I don’t come here for conversation.”

My heart feels like it’s shrinking.

“Get lost. That’s my final warning.” He enters the house and shuts the door behind him.