The Bad Guy

Gunning it, I cut a wide arc around her and got ahead of her, cutting her off. She slowed, her chest heaving as she eyed me.

“Nowhere to go, Camille,” I called over the purr of the motor. “Hop on, and I’ll take you back to the house.” I smirked. Why? I knew she didn’t like it. But I did it anyway. I analyzed my thoughts and realized I wanted her to run. It would make the catch all that much sweeter. And then she’d know there was no way out.

“I can tell when you go robot.” Her words came on a whoosh of air as she tried to catch her breath. “Right then, your cogs were turning. Because you’re a psycho.”

I shrugged. “Get on.”

“What were you thinking?” She edged to the right.

I kept her in my sights like a hawk watching a field mouse. “That I rather enjoy it when you run.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You haven’t seen anything yet.” She broke hard right, darting behind me and toward the trees.

I climbed off the ATV and took off after her. My long strides ate up the ground between us. She was fast, but I was far faster. She’d almost reached the edge of the grass when I wrapped my arms around her and yanked her back.

Her exquisite scream awoke something new inside me, a different face on the monster I knew so well. She kicked and threw elbows. I stumbled under her onslaught and fell, cradling her to my chest to keep her safe. My back landed on the turf, sending my air out in a whoosh, and she tried to scramble away from me.

I grabbed a handful of her shirt and dragged her onto the ground, then pinned her. She slapped and tried to add to the claw marks she’d already left on one side of my face.

“Let me go!” she screamed as I captured her wrists and pinned them over her head.

“I will never let you go.” I squeezed them almost to the point of pain. “Never.”

“Bastard!”

My eyebrows popped to my hairline. Camille didn’t curse. The thought that I brought out the worst in her made something akin to glee bubble up in my chest. I wanted to bring everything out of her—good, bad, ugly, beautiful—everything that made her her.

She still struggled, her chest pressing against mine. My cock hardened at the first moment she screamed, and if I hadn’t been straddling her, she would have felt it.

“You have to calm down.” I leaned closer, resting more of my weight on her. “I’ll wait as long as it takes.”

“I hate you.” A tear escaped her right eye. I wanted to taste it.

“You don’t.”

She turned her head away, staring back toward the house, and settled down. “You can’t keep me here forever.”

“I don’t intend to.”

She faced me, her eyebrows pressing together in confusion. “What?”

“I intend to keep you forever, but not always here.”

“What?”

I let go of her left wrist and smoothed some of the wild blonde strands out of her face. “I have several properties all over the world. And I’d hoped you would one day see how right you and I are. When that happens, I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.” I eased my palm to her neck and rested it there, feeling her pounding heartbeat. “But I can see that will take time.”

She shook her head. “What if I want to go by myself?”

“You won’t.” I glanced to her lips, desperate for another taste. “You’ll see.”

Her pulse quickened, but she scowled. “Get off me.”

“Are you going to behave?”

“Are you going to let me go?” She shoved at my shoulder.

I pressed into her, enjoying the feel of her hard nipples against my chest. “No.”

“So, that’s a no for me, too.”

I sighed. “Will you at least stop running for the afternoon?”

“What, aren’t you going to threaten my books again to keep me in line?” Her defiant tone lit all sorts of fires inside me. I wanted to taste her anger, maybe wear it like a second skin.

“That deal is done, sealed with a kiss. Your books are safe.” I increased the pressure on her throat. “But I have other methods at my disposal if you enjoy being threatened.”

Another jump in her pulse. Fuck, even her blood turned me on.

“I don’t. Now get off.”

“I’ll need your word, Camille.”

She stared into my eyes. “I promise I won’t run again today.”

“Good girl.” I sat back and rose to my feet, then offered her my hand.

She ignored it and climbed to her feet, then brushed the grass from her clothes.

I walked to the ATV. She followed, her silence an accusation. One that I didn’t care about.

“Get on.” I slung a leg over and patted the seat in front of me.

“I’ll walk.” She stepped around the ATV and headed toward the house.

People didn’t refuse me. If they tried, I made them suffer. But I never wanted to hurt her. It was as if my gears ground to a halt and started smoking wherever she was concerned. A word floated to the tip of my tongue, one that was more foreign to me than ancient Farsi.