“I’m—I’m okay,” she managed through a ragged breath, unsure if the declaration was meant for him or a statement of reassurance for herself.
Feeling the pad of his thumb drift over a slick of wetness on her cheek, Ember realized she was crying. Terror, fused with shock and exhaustion from the previous week, spilled from the corner of her eyes.
“Shh, now. It’s okay.” His deep voice remained calm and collected.
The heat of his breath fanned over her face in hot quick pants. He swept his palm over her hair, calming her fits. Mortified, she remained quiet, fearing if she opened her mouth, she’d start bawling. Ember drew several shaky breaths in through her nose and out her mouth, slowing her breathing until the adrenaline coursing through her body began to subdue.
Ember cringed spotting several inky blots of mascara on his pressed white shirt. She forced her gaze beyond the tan skin of his throat to his dazzling blue eyes. “Sorry. I think I might’ve ruined your shirt.”
A chunky wave of dark hair fell over his forehead. His brows furrowed sweeping over her features with curt fascination—followed by a spike of irritation.
“Really? That’s all you have to say?” he grumbled, straightening his back to a sitting position.
Noting the damage to his jacket, she made an apologetic face pointing at the ripped seams near the shoulders. “And the jacket.”
“Damn it all to hell.” Annoyance coated his groan. Taking note of the tremors still quaking through her limbs, he added briskly, “You’re okay. It’s gone now.”
The gorgeous stranger sat back on his haunches. Perched between her thighs, he rested a palm on each knee. The hem of her dress kited up to her navel during the commotion.
At that precise moment, they both realized she was laid out in front of him like an all you can eat buffet.
The sea of blue heat tucked behind his thick, dark lashes turned lazy and compliant. Every muscle in his face softened as his gaze coasted down her torso to her thighs. She lay there, panting shamefully, turned on far more than she would’ve ever admitted.
Ember struggled to categorize the amount of embarrassment pummeling her conscience. Her thin white panties had gotten wedged between her cheeks during the ruckus. Everything was now outlined and on full display. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew she should move, but couldn’t force herself to react. Paralyzed by an intense pull of fascination, she reveled in the sight of his hard muscles that had just been pressed against the length of her body, rolling back and forth on the concrete.
He felt like…heaven.
She squirmed a little under his scrutiny.
His left brow perked in approval right before his eyes squeezed shut as if forcefully clearing the vision from his mind.
Forcing a swallow down her parched throat, Ember released an awkward, shaky laugh, blurting out the first thing that popped into her head, “Thankfully I’m wearing underwear. That would’ve been embarrassing.”
Hushed amusement rustled in his chest. He opened his mouth, contemplating a reply, but couldn’t manage a single word. He assisted her to a sitting position, slipping his long fingers behind her head checking for blood.
“Yeah, that might’ve ruined my whole day,” he murmured, coasting his palms down each arm, inspecting her body as if she were a fragile piece of art that had fallen to the ground.
“You’re…you’re probably going to have nightmares,” she stammered awkwardly.
“You have no idea,” he replied abruptly, hands resting on the tips of her shoulders.
Caught in an awkward embrace of sorts, the scent of coffee on his breath swirled around her. She lingered over his masculine features, landing on his wide, firm mouth. A dose of yearning hit her hard. It’d been months since she broke things off with her last boyfriend, nearly a year, and even then, his kissing skills were at best mediocre. In fact, everything about him was just ordinary. Especially sex. He could talk a good talk but couldn’t walk the walk.
However, the man sitting before her oozed enough testosterone to make her head spin, her core clench, and her heart thump faster.
In a daze, Ember reached forward and dragged her thumb over a smear of raspberry lip gloss on the collar of his shirt where her mouth grazed his throat during their tumble. Hints of his warm, spicy cologne still danced on her tongue. He began to jerk away from the connection but froze beneath her touch. His blue eyes locked on her mouth, following her tongue as it slid over her bottom lip, turning his expression pliant.
“I’d hate to get you in trouble. I umm, I got a little lip gloss on your shirt.”
“No trouble,” he replied. The pad of his palm turned a lazy circle over the tip of her shoulder, casually inspecting the mandala lotus tattoo.
Suddenly, his hand dropped away, acting as if the ink on her arm had burned his flesh. All the softness surrounding his handsome features vanished.
His attention turned straight and cold.
Impenetrable.
“I hollered at you. Why didn’t you move?” he grumbled in a chiding tone. Moving to his feet, he hauled Ember to a standing position.
Finding her footing, she brushed the grime from her legs and arms, taking inspection. Her knees, elbows, and shoulders were scraped up a bit, but not bleeding too badly.
Busted tables and chairs scattered around them in mangled chunks. The umbrella she’d been sitting under had been shredded to bits and strewn across the parking lot. The iron fence demolished beyond repair.
Spotting her phone under the bumper of a parked car, Ember waved her hand at the device. “I had my earbuds in. I didn’t hear anything. That was crazy. Why on earth would a bull be running free in the streets?”
Frightened customers began to emerge from businesses lining the street. Cameras in hand, they recorded the wreckage. An employee stuck his head out the door, asking if anyone needed an ambulance and assured the police were on their way. Both shook their heads, stating they were ok.
“It was more like a stampede.” His gruff tone was full of aggravation. “There were five longhorns. Somebody’s got some explaining to do. Must’ve broke free from—” The aim of cameras drew his attention to the street. His hands flew straight outward before landing on top of his head. His mouth dropped open, a murderous growl boomed from his throat, “Son-of-a-bitch! My car!”
A sleek silver Mercedes parked across the street was mangled in ruins. The hood had been trampled, side mirror dangled by a wire, and the windshield caved in, covering the front seats in glass.
“I take it that’s your car?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he bit sharply behind gritted white teeth. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
He paced in a full circle, raking his long fingers through waves of thick brown hair, nearly yanking them from their roots. After a few turns, he paused, casting a scowl her direction.
Eyes wide, she pursed her lips and shrugged, stating innocently, “Hey, don’t look at me. It’s not like I was waving a red cape.”
They started toward the car to inspect the damage when the sound of galloping horses drew their attention. Two cowboys, one not much more than a boy, rode in the ditch alongside the street.
“Well, don’t you look all respectable.” The cowboy snickered, leading his horse around them in a quick circle. “You going to a funeral or something?”