Run Wild by Lorie O'Clare Read Free Book Online

locked.
    Trent grabbed her arm.
    Natasha froze, glancing down at where strong, long fingers wrapped around her biceps.
    “If you’re hiding anything, Miss King, I will find out.” He barely whispered and his fingers tightened around her arm. “Don’t judge someone’s abilities because they come from a small town.”
    “And I’m sure you aren’t judging someone’s abilities based on their gender,” she shot back at him. “Let go of my arm now, Sheriff,” she said, matching his low, dangerous tone.
    Trent studied her, really studied her, holding her firmly and taking his time as his gaze traveled from her head to her feet and back up again. Natasha hated the fire that ignited inside her the longer he kept her pinned in front of him.
    “Why did you agree to come up here?” he asked when he looked at her face once again.
    There wasn’t any reason to lie. “If there is something wrong with my dad, I’m going to help him,” she said flatly.
    “I see.”
    “Wouldn’t you do the same?”
    “Yup.”
    “You’re still holding my arm.”
    Trent lazily studied his fingers, moving them over the sleeve of her sweater, but not letting go. Natasha breathed in a cleansing breath, fighting to keep her cool when she ached to show this chauvinistic brute exactly what she thought of being manhandled.
    “Let go of me, Sheriff. Unless you’d rather I make you let go of me.”
    Trent’s gaze shot to hers. A fire ignited in his eyes that hadn’t been there a second ago.
    “Is that a threat?”
    “It’s a promise,” she informed him.
    “You could force me to let go of you?” He seriously sounded amused now.
    But when the corner of his mouth twitched she knew he was fighting a grin. Nothing pissed her off more than a man who believed a woman wasn’t as competent or as good in every area as he was. Natasha’s blood boiled. He thought he could belittle her because she was a woman. Well, he asked for it.
    She smiled. “Would you mind placing these on the hood of my truck, please?” she asked, handing him the GPS and CD player. “Gently. Don’t hurt my paint.”
    Trent didn’t let go of her but took both with his free hand and placed them on the hood. The moment he gave her his attention, Natasha jumped into action, using a simple karate move that allowed her to lift more than her own body weight using her legs. With Trent holding firmly onto her arm, he gave her the leverage to carry the move through smoothly. Having a black belt in karate came in handy from time to time.
    Trent went flying over her head to the ground, howling loudly and hitting the ground hard enough it shook under her feet as his body landed with a thud. He freed her arm and Natasha started to straighten, grabbing her hair and shoving it behind her shoulders. He had asked for it.
    She barely had time to acknowledge the back door to the bed-and-breakfast swinging open when two large hands grabbed her with more force than he’d held her arm with a moment before. Trent yanked her down on top of him, flipped over, and in her next breath she lay flat on the hard parking lot ground with every inch of him pressing down on top of her.
    “Impressive, Miss King,” he rumbled, sounding like a dangerous cat who enjoyed playing with its prey before devouring it.
    Natasha stared up at him wide-eyed. Not only could she not catch her breath, but she also was acutely aware of everywhere their bodies touched. Roped muscle bulged against his shirt and down his arms. His black hair fell around his face as he stared down at her, his expression gloating victoriously.
    She didn’t move, didn’t dare suck in a breath and risk pressing their chests closer to each other. Her nipples were painfully hard and her breasts swollen with the weight of so much raw masculinity bearing down on top of her. Their legs were intertwined and his were longer than hers and hard and trapping her so she couldn’t move.
    The ground underneath her was cold, hard, and uneven, with small