Page 13 of The Elusive Billionaire

If that’s who I think it is, I might actually kill her.

Why is she on my property when she knows I’ve blocked her number and have actively avoided being in the same space as her since Braxton’s wedding?

In the middle of a severe weather advisory.

Another flash of yellow, and I squint my eyes, attempting to follow her. The shock of color comes and goes, but if it’s because she keeps falling or because of the rain patterns, I can’t be sure.

Then the wind blows from the opposite direction, clearing a path to her in time to see her go down face-first into the muck. My muscles clench as I wait for her to lift herself up. She’s the only woman stubborn enough to believe she can outrun a goddamn hurricane.

Savvy pulls herself up, only to fall again a few steps later, and a gnawing guilt outweighs my anger when she’s close enough to see she’s missing a boot. It was probably swallowed by my mud sea, so I stomp down into the rain with every intention of sending her away.

I’d just finished a workout when I came outside, so steam rises from my bare chest and arms when I hit the chilly rain, even though it’s humid as hell out here.

No one on this planet can piss me off as much as this woman does simply by existing.

I sink into the mud up to my shins, the mountain of dirt looking more like an anthill now.

Savvy stands, and I’m not sure what happens, but her eyes flash brightly, the entirety of her face caked in mud except the whites of her eyes. She steps forward and right out of herpants that get swallowed into the earth. It trips her up, and she wobbles through an ungraceful spin before falling backward onto her ass, and it’s then that I see the first signs of defeat in her shoulders as her entire chest cavity appears to sink into itself.

Lost to her own mind, and honestly, probably exhausted from her hike up my driveway, she hasn’t noticed me yet as she lies back and…and cries. It’s raining so hard I could have missed it if it weren’t for the quiver to her chin and the complete and utter despair on her face.

A porcupine releases all its quills in my throat. In the time that I’ve known this woman, she’s been strong, stubborn, independent—painfully so. She doesn’t break down, and she doesn’t give up.

Seeing it happen now, just yards from my house, causes my heart to pound violently against my chest.

Get up, Savannah. Get. The. Fuck. Up.

She doesn’t move.

I should have known that she wouldn’t let me cut her out of my life forever. I suppose I should be thankful for the six-month reprieve I’ve had because apparently, our standoff is over.

For now.

Shaking my head, I trudge through the mud that gets precariously deeper the closer I get to her. With her eyes closed, she can’t see me coming. Her tears and the rain wash her face clean of mud, but nothing can erase the sadness, the complete sense of defeat in her expression.

It’s something she would never willingly show, and I almost feel guilty for intruding on this moment, except I won’t because she’s the one trespassing.

Right. She’s the one who doesn’t belong here. It helps me hang on to my anger with a little more force as I bend, then lift her over my shoulder.

I almost toss her too far and have to readjust my grip. She’s lighter than I remember, and I hate that.

My hands land on her bare, muddy thighs, and I hate that I remember how good her skin feels beneath mine.

That’s another thing she stole when she betrayed me—the best fucking sex of my life.

She wasn’t looking for anything serious, and I’ll never be a forever kind of guy, so it was perfect. The way we hate each other ninety-nine percent of the time only made the sex that much hotter.

“Gr—Greyson. W—what are you doing?”

I slide her off my shoulder and into a wedding hold, then nearly drop her when I realize her lips are blue.

“How long have you been out here? Are you trying to get yourself killed?” I take quick but careful steps toward my house.

“C—Car…s-stuck. E-e-eleven.” The chattering of her teeth is a knife to the gut with each stuttered syllable.

I pause as her words register, then I pick up my pace and come close to jogging the rest of the way to my front porch. “You’ve been trying to get up my driveway for two hours, Savannah? Two fucking hours with a hurricane warning in effect?”

Granted, it’s not hypothermia-type weather, but she grew up in Vegas, and she’s cold when its seventy. Wet and muddy? No wonder her entire body shivers now.