Last Second Chance by Caisey Quinn Read Free Book Online Page B

fact, it involves you being bent over also.”
    An audible gasp of surprise escaped her. His threat pulled at something deep inside of her that she didn’t know was there. Something dark and terrifying that she knew she should feel dirty and ashamed of. But she didn’t. Because apparently he wasn’t the only one who was twisted like that.
    “Surprised?” he asked with a gleam in his eye.
    “That you know what a riding crop is, yeah,” she said, her breathy voice giving her away.
    “Don’t be coy. I’ve got your number, babe.” He winked at her and backed off, leaving her bereft. And pissed off about it. He laughed at the petulant expression she felt pulling at her features. “I’m starting to wonder if you even recognize what you want as well as I do.”
    “You don’t know a damn thing about me.” She tried to sidestep him but he stepped with her as if he’d anticipated the move.
    Backing her up once more, he let his eyes trail down her body briefly. Looking back up, he cocked his head. “Don’t I? Let me guess. Went to college on Daddy’s money, wanted to be on a horse ranch but not the one you grew up on because you’re oh so independent now, and the only orgasms you’ve ever had are the ones you’ve given yourself. Bet those pretty boy frat brother fuckers you dated didn’t have a clue how to please a woman.”
    Okay, so maybe he knew a few things. Not that she’d admit it. But she’d gotten an academic scholarship, fuck him very much. “I’ll ask you kindly to watch your language. There’s a lady present.”
    His brows lifted as did one corner of his mouth. “Which word offended you, darlin’? Orgasm?”
    She couldn’t help but smile in spite of herself. “Not that I don’t appreciate the witty banter and all, but what exactly did you come down here for, Mr. Ransom?”
    For a split second, his overconfident expression faltered. He cleared his throat and reached into the back of his jeans. Producing a white folder she’d dropped on her rush to escape the situation in his room, he grinned.
    “You dropped this.”
    Oh. Right. Taking it from him, she glanced at the label. Her name in bold then below it, smaller, her title. Because she worked here.
    Van Ransom was messing with her head, toying with her for whatever reason. Probably because he was bored without all of his groupies around. Talking about riding crops, making her imagine the umpteen levels of inappropriate she’d like to get with him. But the folder snapped her back to reality.
    “Thank you for bringing this, Mr. Ransom. Have a good evening.” She forced a tight smile and faked him out, dodging left and then stepping right around him. Walking as fast as possible back to her bungalow, she tried to shake the look he’d given her. Hurt. Confused.
    Too bad. He’d have to find someone else to toy with. She couldn’t play this game with him or anyone at SCR. Ever.

S he’d just shut down on him and walked away. Pretty damn quickly, too. He’d watched every step. Something about the way she walked had caught his eye. Either he was finally stroking out from all the drugs, or she had a slight limp.
    Why in God’s name would a twenty-two-year-old, obviously healthy woman have a limp? If that asshole doctor had hurt her in some way, he didn’t even want to think about what he’d do.
    While he walked back toward the facility where he currently resided, an idea struck him. One that would put him in close proximity with Stella Jo Chandler on a regular basis.
    Once he made it to his room, he smiled to himself. He’d affected her. Somehow all the tattoos and piercings hadn’t mattered to her. Or if they did, she liked them. Because the cold stare she’d been aiming at Dr. Dickhead at lunch said that she wasn’t interested. Loud and clear. So loud, that Van had heard it from across the room. But the look she’d given him in the barn when he’d lost control of his mouth and told her what he wanted to do to her? That look had said