“I’m not a child!” she protested.
“No,” Mr Jordan agreed, sliding down off his gelding. “I wouldn’t do to a child what
I’m about to do to you. What were you thinking? There’s no doctor within 200 miles--you
could have been killed!”
“But I wasn’t,” she pointed out. “We were fine.”
She watched in morbid fascination as Mr Jordan took off his gun belt, draping it over
the saddle of his horse. Then he rolled up his sleeves to the elbows to expose corded,
muscular forearms. He was really going to do it! There were no wooden spoons out here --
was he just going to use his hand? The thought intrigued her. She took in his sheer size, his
incredible strength, his powerful muscles, his welltoned body. She took note of his huge,
calloused hands. She gulped. Somehow, she didn’t think Mr Jordan would need anything
other than the palm of his hand to ignite a fire in her backside.
“I gave you an order,” he told her sternly, but so quietly that she could barely hear him.
“I’m not much good at taking orders.” She waved her hand dismissively. “It was just me and Neil for a long time. I’m not used to being obedient.”
“Well you’re about to learn.”
Woo-wee! That's inspired me to get my very own copy, and if you feel the same just click the picture below to get yours!