Like Arrows (Cedar Tree #6) by Freya Barker

cock and slowly pump up and down its length. Fuck if I know what she does to me, but I have to get myself back under control. If it means rubbing one out in her shower, so be it.
    With her scent surrounding me, the sound of her laughing still ringing in my ears and the vision of her body barely concealed by that thin nightgown, it doesn't take long for the familiar tingling to start at the base of my spine. The memory of those twin hard peaks, slightly darker than her pale skin, poking in my direction is enough to have me coming violently in my hand. An inadvertent groan escapes my mouth. Fuck .
    Feeling marginally better, I put on the same jeans but a clean shirt and socks, sit on the side of her bed and pull my boots up. It hits me that the house is too quiet. The kitchen is empty, the coffee cups draining in the dish rack and neither Kim nor the damn dog are there. She didn't... Lifting up the lid of the trunk where I saw her grab his leash last night, confirms my suspicions. The little fool’s gone out alone to walk the dog. Maybe I need to be a little more forceful in explaining the potential danger she could be in.
    -
    "I was fine," she complains, sitting beside me in the truck. "Boo wouldn't let anyone hurt me. He's very protective."
    I was standing at the end of the driveway when she came walking up the path leading to the mesa beyond. Without a word, I grab her by the arm and lead her back into the house, where I take Boo off his leash and hand over her purse, keeping the house keys that were on the counter to myself.
    "Wait," she cries out when I'm about to lock the door. "I have to change my boots."
    I look at her feet and see nothing wrong with the rubber boots she's wearing, but the stubborn look on her face has me give in. Whatever. I'll never understand women. We're just going to the diner, for Christ's sake. Kim is grumbling as she laces up a pair of low black boots, which I have to admit, even without much of a heel, look a lot sexier than the rubber green monstrosities she was wearing.
    I just pull into the street when she starts defending herself. I haven't trusted myself to speak yet, but when she says Boo will protect her again, I snort. Loudly. That earns me a dirty look.
    "It's daylight out, Mal. Nothing's gonna happen in daylight."
    "You're not serious, right?" I bite off. "The people who shot out the lock on your office last night, and murdered your boss in cold blood, would not be deterred by a little bit of daylight. Especially not when you venture out on the mesa, where no one would hear your cries for help. That is, if you'd even have time to cry out. Fucking hell, woman. Do you have a death wish?" I know I'm yelling in the confines of the cab and I can see her shrinking away in my peripheral vision, but I can't stop myself.
    "But Boo—" she tries once more when I cut her off.
    "Can't stop a bullet. First thing they'd do is shoot your dog. Then what?"
    Ah, fuck. My gut clenches when I hear her sniffle and when I look over, she's turned her body to the side window to hide herself.
    First chance I get, I pull off into a gas station, driving around the back of the building and put the truck in park. Then I reach over, unclip her seatbelt and pull her resistant body over the center console and onto my lap.
    "I'm sorry I yelled," I say softly over her head, which is tucked, under my chin. "When you were gone, it scared me. I'm just afraid you're not getting how dangerous it can be out there."
    She’s quiet for so long that I’m not even sure she heard me. I try to shift in an effort to get a look at her face when she finally speaks.
    "Sor...Sorry," she hiccups. "I'm not...I'm just...not used to this. I s...stick to myself."
    Before she totally soaks my shirt with her tears, I reach around to grab the box of tissues behind my seat. With one hand I lift her face up and with the other I grab a fistful of tissues and wipe her tear-stained cheeks. Her eyes stay downcast as she quietly submits to my