Ride Rough - Tessa Layne Page 0,20

"Looks like you're in need of rescuing... again."

Cecilia let out a little growl. The man was infuriating. "I can rescue myself, thank you very much," she said firmly.

"Just like you did last time?" he taunted with a low chuckle that made her belly roll.

Ooh, the nerve of him. "I'm not some helpless waif in need of a man."

"The only thing you need, Cecilia," his voice turned to gravel. "Is a damned spanking."

She gasped, face heating. "Is that what you think? You know, I was all set to apologize to you for yesterday, but now I take it back." Her lob fell flat, because Trace's mouth twitched like he was trying not to laugh.

"Apology accepted, but you can't take it back when you haven't offered it."

"Then you can't accept it," she fired back.

"Sure, I can."

"Oh no you can't." She shook her head vehemently. "I took it back."

He raised an eyebrow, eyes twinkling. "You never offered it." He drew a finger down her nose and tapped the tip. "So you can't take it back."

Gah! She had never met a man who infuriated her like he did - he literally made her head spin to the point of dizziness and her blood heat to boiling. "YOU CAN'T ACCEPT WHAT I NEVER OFFERED." Her voice rose to harpy levels, but at the moment, she didn't care.

Trace tilted his head back and let out a throaty laugh. "You're a piece of work, you know that?" His voice shook with mirth. "I'll be happy to accept your apology over dinner."

She blinked. Twice. "What did you just say?"

"You heard me. I'll be happy to accept your apology over dinner."

"I don't think so." She shook her head. Was he nuts? He was nuts. He couldn't possibly think dinner was a good idea.

"You make me nuts."

Shit. Shitshitshit. "I didn't-"

He held up a finger. "You absolutely did say that, and we can explore your need to constantly argue over a bottle of wine at the trattoria."

"So we can get into a shouting match in public where the whole town can watch? Hard pass."

"Cecilia." His voice dropped about an octave. The way he said her name sent a shiver of arousal down her spine, and an ache bloomed between her legs. The rough quality scraped over her sensitive spots like sandpaper. No one talked to her that way - like she needed to be disciplined. The note of command in the way he said her name stopped her in her tracks and turned her knees to jelly.

Charlie the Cheater had never made her feel this way - unsettled, on edge, brain constantly firing in preparation for something unexpected. Like all her boyfriends, he'd been predictable... safe. And he'd let her call all the shots, until she'd walked in on him and the neighbor across the hall 'practicing yoga'. Trace was... not that. She didn't trust him, not by a long shot. He was way too good looking, for starters. And she still couldn't figure out where she'd seen him before, but there was no denying their chemistry and the fact he kept her on her toes... and she... liked that. Heck, maybe she needed it.

"The last thing you need is a two-mile walk on those blisters."

He was absolutely right, and she hated it.

He continued. "So you can argue with me all you want, but your bike's going in the back of the truck, and I'll bring you to the rodeo arena. And when I'm done, we can argue about whether you're going to insist on fixing this POS." He took the bike from her hands and easily lifted it into the rear.

"Hey, that's my high school bike you're talking about." He returned to where she was and picked her up, stalking around the back of the truck. "Hey, put me down," she protested, even while the rational part of her brain pointed out how difficult it would be to hop up on the running board with her feet in their current condition. He stopped in front of the passenger door and stared down at her. She sucked in a breath, because lordy those strikingly familiar eyes smoldered and made her heart gallop.

"Spanking," he muttered, with a small shake of his head.

A rush of heat flooded her pussy. His words shouldn't evoke that kind of intense reaction, shouldn't make her pulse jump wildly at the thought of his bare hand on her ass. She probably didn't even like spanking. But now that the image had been planted firmly in her mind, she