Read Online Lone Rider by Lauren Bach - Free Book Online Page B

feel violated. Surely she wouldn’t have slept through that .
    The drug! Though she felt fine now, she’d no doubt still been under its effects earlier.
    Hardly daring to breathe, she debated her next move. Judging by the pattern of his breathing, she knew he slept. The question was, how deeply?
    She must have been totally out of it for him to undress her and put her beneath the covers without her knowledge. But now he seemed deeply asleep himself. Could she slip out of bed, out of the cabin, while he slept?
                  As if warning against it, he clutched her closer, pressing himself directly against her buttocks, making her acutely aware of just how thin cotton underwear was. And how thick he was. She quickly thrust the sensation from her mind. She had to stay focused.
                  She eyed the door, mentally gauging the distance. Slipping out of bed wouldn’t be easy. But she had to try.
                  Very slowly, very carefully, she tentatively eased her shoulder away from him. His breathing didn’t change.
                  She waited a few seconds, then inched her butt forward. He reacted swiftly to that move, pulling her beneath him in a smooth roll and settling himself intimately between her legs.
                  She felt smothered, completely covered by his long body. His warm breath tickled her ear, followed by a soft snore. So much for her idea of getting out of bed. For now she’d be satisfied with getting out from under .
    Chewing her lip, she debated waking him. How would he react? Would he try to take advantage of the situation?
                  Unbidden, thoughts of kissing him sprang to mind. Tess had done her share of dating and experimenting -- mostly in college -- but half of the guys she met left her cold. The other half were candidates her mother introduced. All were enamored by her family’s wealth.
                  No one had ever moved her with just a kiss. Left her wanting more.
                  So why did it have to be him? And why now?
                  His face was turned toward her , and in sleep he looked irresistible. She studied the planes of his cheeks, the shadow of whiskers. She thought about the scar she had spotted on his side earlier, doubting it had its origins in medicine. An altercation, more likely.
                  A long strand of his dark hair lay across her cheek. Unbound, it fell thick and straight to his shoulders. His damp hair smelled of shampoo, soap. He must have showered while she slept.
                  It occurred to her that she really didn’t feel overly threatened by Dallas . Yes, he was bigger and stronger and could physically overpower her. But she didn’t feel personally endangered in his presence. Quite the opposite, she’d felt safe with him, especially when Snake and the others were around.
                  She sighed. Of course none of that took away from the fact she was being held against her will.
                  Still, a part of her wondered what had driven Dallas to a life of crime? Was he the product of a broken home? Had one or both parents abandoned him at a young age?
                  What did it matter?
                  She closed her eyes, clearing those thoughts. The bottom line remained unchanged. She was his prisoner , and her biggest concerns with Dallas remained unanswered. What did he intend to do with her and how would she get free ?
                  At that moment, Dallas coughed. Then he stretched. His medal, warm from his skin, fell forward against her. His ribs grazed hers, muscles taut. Then she felt the growing hardness -- lower -- and remembered he wore little. Very little. She struggled for air as his head raised.
                  “Good morning,” he yawned.
                  “You’re squishing