Road's End: Apocalypse Riders (10 page)

“What you meant to say is, I was right.” He was so close she could smell him - sweat from practicing in the morning, hay from being near the horses, a faint hint of cigar smoke. Her knees trembled. What was wrong with her?

“I wouldn’t say that,” she said, annoyed at herself for sounding less confident, “You made some good points, but-”

“I was right. You made a poor choice to flit out of that tent unescorted, and you brought your friend into danger with you.”

“When you put it like that-”

“You were bad.” He growled the last word, and it sent a thrill through her, straight down between her legs. Again? she thought. How did he manage to have such an effect on her? Who was he, to call her “bad”? Yet in some strange way, it felt right.

“I was bad,” she whispered, eyes locked on his. He leaned forward, planting his palms to either side of her, against the wall and the door. She felt crowded, trapped. Helpless. The huge man was frightening, but not in a "run for your life" way. More like "what is he going to do to me, and please do it now."

“I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson.” The tone of his voice - part threatening, part teasing - made her heart race. His face was so close. His green eyes bore into her, as if seeking something inside of her, something even she couldn’t see.

“I can be good,” she said, squirming beneath the gaze, clamping her legs tight against the moisture gathering there.

He took a loose lock of her hair between two fingers, twirled it around. She imagined those hands elsewhere on her, how warm, how encompassing they would be, and her mouth went dry. She licked her lips, and he smirked.

“No,” he said, and released the hair. “I don’t believe you. Girls like you only learn from punishment.”

Punishment? What on earth was he talking about? Did it mean he would touch her? She abandoned all worries about what the other girls or Leonard or anyone else would think if they found out she'd come alone to Arthur's wagon. It made no difference if they found out what was happening, though she didn't know what it was herself. All she wanted was whatever Arthur wanted in that moment. And to have his hands on her.

“What did you have in mind?” It came out like a squeak. That sort of question suggested acquiescence. A small grin touched just the corners of his mouth.

“Go to the back. Put your hands and elbows on the table.”

She obeyed without hesitation, though her mind race. Did this mean he was going to fuck her? It seemed pretty sudden. They hadn’t even kissed just once. Despite her brain’s objections, her body followed the instructions with alarming haste. She had to shove a few books aside, which in turn knocked more books off the table, but Arthur didn’t comment. She positioned herself over the desk as he’d demanded, and waited in silence.

Crack! His hand came down on her ass. She yelped in surprise. The impact shocked her more than it hurt, though her backside heated where he’d struck. A part of her wanted to turn and snarl at him, scream at him or hit him back, but something held her hands firmly on the table. Something bowed her head and raised her ass, ready for the next assault. He’d awakened something unknown, something a little scary deep inside her that she’d always buried, ignored.