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at the table would now assume that there was something intimate between them when there
wasn't . . . really. Not that the spanking hadn't been intimate . . . Defeated, she stalked back into
the kitchen, grabbed a diet soda, and retreated to the relative safety of her room, which was what
she had intended on doing in the first place before he'd issued his highly insulting command.
Feeling braver as she settled back against her headboard to watch The Sopranos, she mumbled
under her breath to no one in particular, "He damned well got what he deserved."
Later, when the men had left and Clint had knocked on her door then barged into her
room without waiting for her to give him permission to enter, she used that line again - but he
didn't seem to be buying it. Kelsey had stood up as soon as he came in, not wanting to be on a
bed with him in the room. Somehow it was just too vulnerable a position to be in in front of a
man who oozed testosterone as he did.
He easily managed to back her into the same corner he'd made her stand in the day
before, although Kelsey cursed herself for being cowardly enough to back away from him and let
herself get trapped by his huge palms on the walls on either side of her head. Clint leaned into
her, their bodies touching from shoulder to knee, practically nose to nose. He was so friggin'
big! She thought as he towered over her, and all she could see was acres and acres of understated
but nicely rippling muscles.
Clint would have been so much easier to resist if he'd been some muscle-bound
Schwartzenegger-wannabe. But he wasn't. He was very much himself - tall and very broad of
shoulder, but not over-blown with muscles. Capable-looking. He looked - and acted - as if he
could do anything that was necessary to ensure his own survival and that of his loved ones. He
would, indeed, have made a great mate during the Neanderthal era . . . and probably now, too,
her traitorous mind interjected.
"You deserve a spanking for what you did," he tossed out almost casually, but then, he
was holding all the cards considering he was keeping her captive.
Kelsey's chin went up a notch - especially when she realized that she was staring at the
small patch of light brown hair that was visible through the buttons at the collar of his golf shirt.
"You and whose army? You're never, ever going to touch me like that again, Duncan. I won't
allow it."
Clint snickered in the face of her bravado. There was liquor on his breath, but he wasn't
acting particularly drunk any more. He was acting dangerous instead. "You've already allowed
it once. And I'm claiming the right to do it again anytime I see the need to."
"You do and you'll withdraw a bloody stump," Kelsey stated flatly, meeting his eyes with
a completely straight face.
He had to admit to a certain grudging admiration. She wasn't backing down, despite the
fact that they each knew that he had the strength to do pretty much as he pleased with her. The
cold, hard reality of the situation was that she was no match for him physically. "Well, Princess,
I think we're at a draw right now. But consider this fair warning - I'll spank you any time I think
you need it. And you know there's nothing you can do to stop me."
Her eyes flared with anger, and he knew -somehow - just how frustrating that idea was to
her. She didn't like having someone around her that she truly couldn't control, or someone who
flat out said that he was going to try to curb her behavior. It must irk the hell out of her that it
was him, too, considering the animosity they'd shared in the past - and currently.
But she hadn't filed charges against him for assault. She hadn't really even made much of
a big deal about her spanking at all, as if she really did realize that she deserved it.
Hmmmmmmm.
For some reason, coming to those understandings made him relax. He could relate to the
idea of not wanting to feel out of control - he hated it, too. And maybe - just maybe - she was a
closet spanko. Stranger things had happened. Still, she needed to realize that he was assuming
the role of arbiter of her behavior. "Oh, and don't pull another stunt like this evening, or you'll
find yourself over my lap getting your bare butt tanned - no matter what kind of audience we
might have," he warned sternly, then turned away and exited her bedroom.
Kelsey slumped in the aftermath, having envisioned having to fight him off -
unsuccessfully. As she crawled into bed she reflexively rubbed her bottom, choosing to lie on
her side rather than her back although she wasn't terribly tender any more.
Her last though as she drifted off to sleep was of the fact that she knew he'd been rock
hard throughout that entire exchange . . . and her panties had been soaking wet.
Clint had to actively get a hold of his temper, leaning back in his chair and counting . . .
and counting . . . and counting. Travis had escaped! Apparently, he'd seen the writing on the
wall, since so many people turned out to speak out vehemently and plaintively against his
release. He wasn't going to see the outside any time soon, so he decided to take matters into his
own hands.
It was a major cause for concern. Travis wasn't the type to let bygones be bygones - he'd
consider that he had scores to settle - with Clint in particular. This not only put him in danger,
but anyone close to him. Clint's jaw clenched. Princess. Kelsey had become a prime target,
merely because of the fact that they lived together. Travis would never take the time to
investigate whether or not there was a romantic link between them - he would assume that
because they were living together that they were lovers and that Clint cared about her. Luckily,
the department would do whatever it could to keep him informed of any sightings, and hopefully,
of Travis' imminent capture.
Clint had to admit to himself that those assumptions weren't too far off the mark. Not the
lovers part, of course, but the fact that he was coming to grudgingly care for the little pain in the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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at the table would now assume that there was something intimate between them when there
wasn't . . . really. Not that the spanking hadn't been intimate . . . Defeated, she stalked back into
the kitchen, grabbed a diet soda, and retreated to the relative safety of her room, which was what
she had intended on doing in the first place before he'd issued his highly insulting command.
Feeling braver as she settled back against her headboard to watch The Sopranos, she mumbled
under her breath to no one in particular, "He damned well got what he deserved."
Later, when the men had left and Clint had knocked on her door then barged into her
room without waiting for her to give him permission to enter, she used that line again - but he
didn't seem to be buying it. Kelsey had stood up as soon as he came in, not wanting to be on a
bed with him in the room. Somehow it was just too vulnerable a position to be in in front of a
man who oozed testosterone as he did.
He easily managed to back her into the same corner he'd made her stand in the day
before, although Kelsey cursed herself for being cowardly enough to back away from him and let
herself get trapped by his huge palms on the walls on either side of her head. Clint leaned into
her, their bodies touching from shoulder to knee, practically nose to nose. He was so friggin'
big! She thought as he towered over her, and all she could see was acres and acres of understated
but nicely rippling muscles.
Clint would have been so much easier to resist if he'd been some muscle-bound
Schwartzenegger-wannabe. But he wasn't. He was very much himself - tall and very broad of
shoulder, but not over-blown with muscles. Capable-looking. He looked - and acted - as if he
could do anything that was necessary to ensure his own survival and that of his loved ones. He
would, indeed, have made a great mate during the Neanderthal era . . . and probably now, too,
her traitorous mind interjected.
"You deserve a spanking for what you did," he tossed out almost casually, but then, he
was holding all the cards considering he was keeping her captive.
Kelsey's chin went up a notch - especially when she realized that she was staring at the
small patch of light brown hair that was visible through the buttons at the collar of his golf shirt.
"You and whose army? You're never, ever going to touch me like that again, Duncan. I won't
allow it."
Clint snickered in the face of her bravado. There was liquor on his breath, but he wasn't
acting particularly drunk any more. He was acting dangerous instead. "You've already allowed
it once. And I'm claiming the right to do it again anytime I see the need to."
"You do and you'll withdraw a bloody stump," Kelsey stated flatly, meeting his eyes with
a completely straight face.
He had to admit to a certain grudging admiration. She wasn't backing down, despite the
fact that they each knew that he had the strength to do pretty much as he pleased with her. The
cold, hard reality of the situation was that she was no match for him physically. "Well, Princess,
I think we're at a draw right now. But consider this fair warning - I'll spank you any time I think
you need it. And you know there's nothing you can do to stop me."
Her eyes flared with anger, and he knew -somehow - just how frustrating that idea was to
her. She didn't like having someone around her that she truly couldn't control, or someone who
flat out said that he was going to try to curb her behavior. It must irk the hell out of her that it
was him, too, considering the animosity they'd shared in the past - and currently.
But she hadn't filed charges against him for assault. She hadn't really even made much of
a big deal about her spanking at all, as if she really did realize that she deserved it.
Hmmmmmmm.
For some reason, coming to those understandings made him relax. He could relate to the
idea of not wanting to feel out of control - he hated it, too. And maybe - just maybe - she was a
closet spanko. Stranger things had happened. Still, she needed to realize that he was assuming
the role of arbiter of her behavior. "Oh, and don't pull another stunt like this evening, or you'll
find yourself over my lap getting your bare butt tanned - no matter what kind of audience we
might have," he warned sternly, then turned away and exited her bedroom.
Kelsey slumped in the aftermath, having envisioned having to fight him off -
unsuccessfully. As she crawled into bed she reflexively rubbed her bottom, choosing to lie on
her side rather than her back although she wasn't terribly tender any more.
Her last though as she drifted off to sleep was of the fact that she knew he'd been rock
hard throughout that entire exchange . . . and her panties had been soaking wet.
Clint had to actively get a hold of his temper, leaning back in his chair and counting . . .
and counting . . . and counting. Travis had escaped! Apparently, he'd seen the writing on the
wall, since so many people turned out to speak out vehemently and plaintively against his
release. He wasn't going to see the outside any time soon, so he decided to take matters into his
own hands.
It was a major cause for concern. Travis wasn't the type to let bygones be bygones - he'd
consider that he had scores to settle - with Clint in particular. This not only put him in danger,
but anyone close to him. Clint's jaw clenched. Princess. Kelsey had become a prime target,
merely because of the fact that they lived together. Travis would never take the time to
investigate whether or not there was a romantic link between them - he would assume that
because they were living together that they were lovers and that Clint cared about her. Luckily,
the department would do whatever it could to keep him informed of any sightings, and hopefully,
of Travis' imminent capture.
Clint had to admit to himself that those assumptions weren't too far off the mark. Not the
lovers part, of course, but the fact that he was coming to grudgingly care for the little pain in the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]