Bunny and the Beast(Divine Creek Ranch 22)(4)

She turned away from the club and walked down the sidewalk in front of the building, toward the state highway. She paused, and then, determining her course, she set out at a stomping pace, muttering to herself the whole way.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he yelled.

Bunny turned back to him, the wind buffeting her fiery curls around her face. “I’m walking home, dickhead! I can’t very well go back inside. They’d ask questions I don’t feel like answering!” He was well acquainted with the petulant displays of subs and expected her to stop when she realized it wouldn’t work on him, but she continued on into the night, and his dismay grew.

“You mean to walk all the way?”

She didn’t halt this time, just looked back at him, her beautiful face radiant with emotion in the streetlights lining the state highway. “No, I plan to sprout wings and fly. You really are a simpleton, aren’t you?”

Watching her rounded backside twitch with her furious pace, he muttered under his breath. “Spanking that ass is going to feel so fucking good.” A tingle of anticipation started in his shoulders and ran down his arms to his hands.





Chapter Two




Utterly mortified at her uncharacteristically violent reaction to Joseph’s refusal to release her, Bunny put her hand over her mouth as the dark enveloped her. Her teeth throbbed a little, and her fury took a precipitous plunge into horror.

“I can’t believe I actually bit him.”

Her head knew the action was a reflex, a reaction to the times in the past when she’d had a need to protect herself and her brother. Her heart was palpitating because she knew the difference between the thugs she’d had to fight against and the man standing stupefied outside the club.

Joseph was nothing like them.

You bit the man. Bit him! Not only could he file assault charges on her, she knew she was in the wrong. He’d wanted to talk to her, and she believed he was sincere. She was certain he didn’t have intentions to harm her, unless she counted the way his palm got twitchy as she’d mouthed off to him, but that hadn’t scared her a bit.

She’d hauled off and bitten him. She could just imagine what Grinnie would say if she was there. Bunny’s heart ached at knowing her actions would disappoint her grandmother.

What should you do now? Grinnie’s voice echoed in her mind, the soft southern accent soothing and encouraging.

“I know, I know,” she muttered to herself. “I should apologize and make it right, damn it.” She could almost hear Grinnie’s laughter, somehow reinforcing her words without shaming her with a long lecture.

“I’m so glad to hear that. I think I’ll take your apology while you kneel, before I place you over my knee,” the deep, raspy voice said from behind her in clipped tones, and then she was spun about and the world went topsy-turvy.

The highway bobbed upside down as Joseph carried her on his shoulder back to the Dancing Pony’s parking lot. Kicking her feet, she struggled to be put down. “That’s never going to happen and you know it! Put me down!”

“Be still and be quiet,” he growled, and then a resounding pop rent the air and pain licked across her ass cheeks. “Unless your plan includes explaining to Hank Stinson or a member of his force why I have teeth marks on my hand.”

Good point, since I’m the assailant with a business reputation to protect and a brother who needs taking care of.

Joseph continued on, oblivious to her inner counseling session. “I’m sure Hank would be amused by your hissy fit. He might even have some creative suggestions for how I deal with you, after making sure you’re not under any true duress, of course.”

“You—you—you—”

“Son of a bitch,” he provided. “I know I’m a son of a bitch to you right now. But I’m also the son of a bitch who wants to sit down with you and have an adult conversation, or confrontation, without the histrionics.” His shoulder rolled as he heaved a sigh, and over the rush of the wind, she thought she heard him whisper, “Damn it, Hazelle. Well done.”

She told herself it was simple curiosity at the self-loathing in his tone that stilled her struggles.

A few minutes later, buckled into his gun-metal gray, to-to-totally gorgeous BMW i8, she asked, “Where are you taking me?”

The engine came to sultry, rumbling life, giving her goosebumps, and she had to suppress a grin as she appreciated the sound. “Home.”

Focus! “To yours or mine?”

He paused, and she wanted to knock off the lopsided grin curving his sensual lips. “Yours. Why? Would you rather go to my home?”