Read Online Lone Rider by Lauren Bach - Free Book Online

it.
                  “You still need more sleep,” he said. “So do I. It’s been a long night.”
                  “I’m not tired.”
                  “Yes you are. You’re running on pure nerves and fighting the effects of the tranquilizer. When that bottoms out you’ll collapse. Is that what you want?”
    Tess didn’t reply.
    He abruptly released her. “I’d been driving twelve hours straight before I came across you, and hadn’t had any sleep befo re that. We both need some shut- eye.”
    Tess backed away slowly. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”
                  “You’re sleeping in the bedroom, with me. And if you’re concerned I have a hidden agenda, you can rest easy. Whether you choose to believe me or not is your prerogative.”              
    He moved toward her, hand outstretched.
    “Go to hell!”  With the last of her energy, Tess headed for the front door. Only to find it locked.
    She turned, dismayed to find Dallas right behind her. When he charged, she feinted left, but in the small confines of the cabin, he only had to take a few steps to catch her. Slinging her over his shoulder, he headed to the bedroom.
    “Put me down!”
                  She bucked wildly, but he merely tightened his grip around her knees, cutting off movement. She pummeled at his back, hurting her hand.
    He kicked the bedroom door closed with his heel and walked directly to the bed.
                  “We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” he ground out between clenched teeth. “Your choice.”
                  “I hate you,” she hissed, renewing her attack. “Let me go!”
                  “The hard way it is.”  Dallas dumped her on the bed, rolling her onto her stomach and pinning her in place with a knee in her back.
                  The air whooshed from her lungs, startling her. It took a few moments for the bed to stop spinning. She heard the drawer of the bedside table slide open. She tried to squirm free but he captured first one hand, then the other, easily pulling both arms over her head. She felt cold metal press against her wrist, heard the telltale snap of handcuffs. As soon as her wrists were secure, Dallas lifted his weight from her.
                  She stared at her hands in horror. He’d chained her to the bed frame! She tugged uselessly at the restraints. The bed had an old iron-spindle headboard and footboard. Solid as a rock. She rolled onto her side, watching him warily.
                  Ignoring her, Dallas moved to the opposite side of the bed peeling off his T-shirt as he walked, revealing a wide-shouldered physique. A three-inch scar ran ac ross his ribs. His skin was nut brown, as if he spent a lot of time outside, shirtless. A well-worn, gold, Saint Christopher medal hung around his neck, coming to rest in the hollow of his breastbone, right between his flat nipples.
    She caught a glimpse of a tattoo as he raised his arms over his head. The small but elaborate Celtic cross was imprinted on the inside of his upper arm, making it invisible when his arms were lowered.
    Emptying his pockets, he unfastened his belt, then tugged it free. As she watched, his hands loosened the top button of his jeans, then paused. She stared.
    Until he winked.
    Embarrassed, she quickly turned her head, closed her eyes. She heard the zipper rasp down, heard the soft thud of denim hit the floor.
    The reality of the situation suddenly seemed suffocating. Would Dallas force himself on her?
                  She trembled by the time the bed dipped with the weight of his body, struck mute with fear. She felt helpless, weak. Horrified. God, this couldn’t be happening!
    She held her breath waiting to feel his hands grab her.
    Waiting...
    Waiting...
                  And eventually had to take another breath.
                  She