Page 22 of Ride Me Reckless

I stepped in. Close enough to feel the heat rolling off her skin. "Why do you care?"

"I don't."

"Then why are your hands shaking?"

She looked down—and cursed. Her fists were balled, knuckles white. She tried to hide it, but I saw the truth flash across her face like lightning.

"You think I moved on?" I asked, voice low, rough. "You think I'm the one who left?"

Her breath hitched. Her lips parted like she wanted to throw something—words, maybe. Or a punch. But I didn't give her the chance.

I scooped her up in one motion—hands gripping the backs of her thighs—and she gasped, arms flailing for a second before she caught herself around my neck.

"Colt—what the hell—put me down?—"

"No."

I kicked open my trailer door and hauled her inside, letting it slam behind us. The sudden silence was deafening. No crowd. No horses. Just the sound of her breath, ragged and furious.

"You're out of your mind," she hissed, trying to shove me back.

I let her.

Her palms landed hard on my chest—and stayed there.

"You want to fight, Tess?" I growled. "Fine. But don't pretend like that wasn't jealousy back there."

"Go to hell," she whispered.

I stepped forward again. Backed her up until her spine hit the wall.

"I've been there," I said. "It looked a lot like losing you."

Her mouth parted again—this time not in anger. In hesitation. In heat.

She stared at me like she didn't know whether to slap me or kiss me.

And God help me, I wanted both.

"I hate you," she muttered.

"No, you don't."

And when I kissed her—hard, brutal, hungry—she didn't stop me.

She kissed me back like she'd been waiting to do it since the last time we said goodbye. Like maybe thiswasthe fight.

I wasn't letting her leave again without knowing exactly where we stood.

Chapter Six

More Than Muscle Memory

Tessa

My back hit the cabinets hard enough to rattle the dishes behind me. I didn't flinch.

He caged me in—arms on either side of my shoulders, body radiating heat, restraint coiled tight in every muscle. That old flame in his eyes had never died. If anything, it had been burning low, waiting for kindling.