I don’t even acknowledge him. I brush past him and to my room. In less than a minute, I’ve got myself dressed, hair in a messy pile on my head, and an old pair of flip flops on my feet. Without a word I walk out the door and down the driveway.
I came here to escape, to lick my wounds and heal, instead I’m walking away with more wounds than I started with. I’m not sure that I’ll ever be the same again.
Naïve as it may be, I thought there was a connection between us. Less than twenty-four hours and I’d grown attached to a perfect stranger. No, that’s not true, I was already half in love with the man who saved my twin countless times. The stories I’d been told about how Hutch took care of my other half gave me a good deal of hero-worship.
That’s all this was—some misdirected feelings of attraction because of what Hutch represents.
I’m almost to the end of the drive when I hear the screen door slam shut and heavy-booted feet stomping across the porch. I don’t give in to my desire to turn around. I keep my pace steady even though I can hear his longer stride eating up the distance between us. One second I’m on my way to town with anger and hurt churning in my gut, and the next I’m thrown over Hutch’s shoulder.
“What the fuck!” I screech. “Put me down, you…you…you jerk!” I flail, kicking out my legs and beating my fists against his back.
His arm bands across my thighs, pinning me in place and making my movements completely ineffective. He may have me physically restrained, but my mouth still works. I don’t stop screaming the whole way back to the house. I curse him up one side and down the other. The only response I get in return is a masculine chuckle.
Dick.
Back inside the cabin, he unceremoniously dumps me onto the couch. I instantly jump up, unwilling to be in such a vulnerable position again. Hutch has his arms crossed over his chest and his jaw ticks as he looks down at me, matching me hard stare to hard stare.
8
Hutch
This girl is going to be the death of me. Fiery as hell and just as stubborn as her brother. I have no idea why the hell she took off like that, but it’s clearly my fault.
I knew I shouldn’t have taken advantage of her, but she’s temptation personified. The devil’s fruit hanging ripe and perfect from the vine just begging to be plucked and devoured. She’s everything I’ve ever wanted and nothing I deserve. And I proved that just moments ago when I fucked her without a condom. Spilling my seed inside her unprotected womb. The bastard that I am wants to take her right back to that bed and fuck her again. Rut into her tight channel and fill her so full of me she’ll never be able to leave. Get her pregnant with my baby and keep her for myself.
I wasn't lying when I told her she is mine. I'm not giving up on her. I'll fix whatever this problem is and remind her who she belongs to. Again and again.
I’ve not once thought about keeping a woman. Sure I was married, but I never felt like this for Sheila. Ending things with her was more of a relief than anything. Even though I met Blake less than twenty-four hours ago, I feel like I’ve always known her. Some primal part of my being gravitates to her; craves her. It’s not just love… it’s more. It’s like she is completely necessary for my survival.
Maybe the doc got my diagnosis wrong. Maybe it’s not PTSD. Maybe I’m just fucking insane. Because I feel insane and this situation is definitely insane.
Blake’s hands are on her plump little hips and her eyes are shooting daggers at me, but I can see beneath that facade. I can see the pain and hurt. She’s doing a damned good job of hiding it, but it’s there and it’s killing me to know I put that look there. Her ex played his part, he sent her running with a broken heart. Instead of becoming her friend, protecting her heart and helping her heal, I took advantage. I let my desire override her needs and I’ll never forgive myself for that.
“Blake, I am so very so—,” I don’t get the chance to finish my apology because quick as a whip her small palm cracks against the side of my face. My head turns at the unexpected impact. It doesn't hurt, for a guy like me it was more of a love tap than anything. Years of conditioning and quick reflexes prevents another attack from my little hellcat. She strains against my hold, but I don’t give an inch.
I open my mouth to apologize, yet again, but Blake makes a keening sound in the back of her throat. It’s such a broken, desperate sound that I instantly release her arms and cup her face in my hands. Something breaks free and the tension melts from her body. Her big blue eyes are glassy with unshed tears, leaving her black lashes heavy with moisture. The vulnerability she shows cracks my heart in two. This girl is going to either be my salvation or pave the way to my damnation. Either way, she owns me.