“Stop right there, mister. Or I’ll shoot.”
He stops, looming there. His expression isn’t fear. Isn’t even surprise.
It’s half fury, half something like amusement.
Then he takes one more step. Then another.
Until the muzzle is pressed into his bare chest. Right over his heart.
Still he keeps coming.
My hands shake as he propels me back one giant step. “I mean it. I’ll shoot.”
“Then you better make sure it’s loaded and the safety’s off next time, little rabbit,” he says, voice rumbling.
The second my gaze drops to check the chamber, he knocks theweaponaway before my fingers reach anywhere near the trigger.
It was a wild bluff. I’ve never shot a gun before, and from the look in his dark brown eyes, he knows.
My cheeks blaze at the thought that he saw right through me. “I’m not a rabbit! My name is Lily,” I snap, breathless, furious at how small, exposed, and vulnerable I feel before him.
His fingers tighten hard around the barrel.
“Lily,” he repeats, slow and rough, like he’s tasting it. “Nah. Rabbit suits you better.”
“I’m not your rabbit.”
In a flash, he plucks the rifle from my hands, sets it back above themantel, then turns and snatches me up around the waist.
My body collides with his shoulder, my legs tangling around one of his tree-trunk thighs. That furnace inside seems to burst out to engulf my whole body, then I’m dumped across his lap as he sits on the chair where he tended to me earlier.
Shock jolts through me, my new position sending a wave of dizziness over me. I squirm and jostle, desperate to get off this crazy train. “What the hell do you think you’re?—”
His palm lands hard against my backside.
Itsmartssharp enough to scorch through the thin layers of my dress and panties.
A cry rips from my throat, half from the unexpected sting, half from the shock ofbeing spanked by a stranger.
“Stop! God—what—why?” I stutter.
“You’re being punished, little rabbit,” he rumbles, calm as ice. “For a list so long I’ll have to number it.”
Smack.
Heat spikes through me, shame tangled with something darker. My fists clench where they’re braced against the cold floor, ready to fight, but my body betrays me, hips squirming against him.
“Number one,” he says, voice low, deliberate. “You trespassed.”
His hand comes down again. My skin tingles as fire licks high through me.
“Two. You hurt yourself.” Another strike.
I bite my lip hard, refusing to give him sound.
“Three. You interrupted my chores.”
“Ch—chores?” My voice breaks high.
