Saxon's Soul (Haven, Texas 5)

Since she didn’t seem keen on calling anyone else, he could only conclude she planned to walk or hitchhike.

Neither of those things were happening.

“Aspen,” he said in a quiet voice.

He watched as she rallied herself, once more marveling that that small body could hold such strength. Or maybe it was just sheer stubbornness.

She straightened, opened her eyes, pushing back a strand of hair. “Yes?”

“I’ll give you a ride home.”

Panic filled her face. He felt a flicker of amusement. Most of the time, women fell over themselves to get his attention. Never once had a woman panicked at the idea of him driving them home.

“I promise, just a ride, nothing more. There’s no reason to look at me like I’m an axe murderer about to drive you to your death.”

“What? I’m not—” She blew out a breath. “Sorry. It’s a really kind offer but I couldn’t—”

“I insist,” he told her firmly. “And I have to warn you, I really don’t like hearing the word no.”

For a moment amusement lit her face and it lightened her, making the always-present exhaustion disappear briefly. “You mean there’s someone brave enough to tell you no?”

He sighed, deliberately drawing it out. “Hard to believe, but there are a few foolish souls who have tried. You’re not going to be one of them, are you?”

She smiled. “We’ll see.”

She stole a look at Saxon as he drove. His car was immaculate, like the man. It was an expensive ride, the leather seats were buttery soft, the drive so smooth it felt like the tires weren’t even touching the road.

Nerves filled her as they grew closer to the cabin she was renting. He’d just drop her off and leave, right? No reason for him to linger. He had to want to get home.

“I’m sorry if I’m keeping you from work.”

“It’s Monday, the club is closed.”

“Oh, right.” She wouldn’t know. She didn’t have any interest in a BDSM club.

He glanced over at her, his lips twitching. “Have you ever visited a BDSM club?”

“No.”

“Would you like to?”

“Are you asking me to?” She gaped at him, unable to help herself. He was inviting her to his club? Did he think she was into that sort of thing? That she was submissive? Or Dominant? Uh, she really, really didn’t have the urge to take a paddle to some guy’s ass.

She shuddered.

“Hmm the usual reaction I encounter when I invite someone to the club for the first time is eagerness, maybe some nerves, or curiosity. But I’ve never had someone appear to want to hurl.”

Oh, shit. She was insulting him when he was being kind enough to drive her home.

&nbs

p; “Sorry, I’m sure it’s very nice.” Nice? Jesus, why did she say that?

“Nice?”

Okay, now he really sounded offended. She watched him worriedly. She was in a car, on a dark, deserted road with a man she barely knew. What the hell was she thinking? Just because he was a resident of Haven didn’t make him safe. Sure, nobody had ever said anything bad about him. Well, no, that wasn’t true. She’d heard often enough how he went through women, how he didn’t have a heart, and that he could be an arrogant bastard. That was actually how Logan Ferguson referred to him, as “that arrogant bastard.” But she’d never heard he was violent or dangerous.

“Jesus, didn’t I tell you not to look at me like I’m a serial killer?” he said with exasperation. “And my BDSM club is not nice.”