Bind Me Close: 3 (Knights in Black Leather) Read Free Page B

cell to god knew who. Finally he returned to his truck and climbed in
beside her. Tossing his Stetson to the rear seat, he smoothed his unruly hair
then reached for her hand and held tight.
    “I know this is quite a blow to you.”
    “Yeah. A big one.”
    “Sorry it took so long.”
    “No, no. I’m grateful he got some help. He looked alive when
they put him in the ambulance. Is he?”
    “At the moment. But he’s a mess.”
    I am too. Tears scalded her eyes.
    “Hey,” he said so softly that she was shocked a man with so
much timbre in his voice could speak so low. “Cry if you have to but please
don’t worry.”
    “Worry?” she blurted, sad and appalled and angry. A serrated
knife was sawing at her insides. “I’m…just so…stunned! I’ve got no car and no
clothes and—oh, hell. I never blubber.”
    But she did. Her eyes shed crocodile tears. Her nose ran.
Her lips quivered.
    And he slid over to her and wrapped her so close in those
big, bulging biceps that she wilted like a picked flower in the midday sun.
    He dug a handkerchief from his pocket and put it to her
nose. “Blow.”
    She honked right into it and sniveled her thanks. Male
comfort was such a rare benefit for any of her troubles that she wound her arms
around his torso and loved the feel of his rock-hard abs. She wondered how to
stay there in his arms. Keep crying? Jump his bones? Worry about a Mrs. Sheriff
Saxon?
    Hell, how could she think of such things after she had just
lost everything?
    She groaned.
    He cuddled her closer and ran his hands over her hair. “It’s
been a long day.”
    “Crazy,” she agreed, roping in her jumpy emotions and
pushing away to reclaim her dignity.
    “Look at me.” He caught her chin between two fingers and
made her glance up at him. And god, up close and very personal, he was the most
fabulous male creature she had seen since she’d watched Bradley Cooper get a
hangover in Bangkok. But this man was not on a silver screen. He breathed. He
grinned. He filled her view. Broad shoulders, sun-bleached hair, sea-green eyes
that caressed and consoled. “I’m gonna fix you up, best I can. I just talked
with Cara MacRae and Samantha Turner. Told them what happened to you.”
    “Oh. That’s so good of you. Thank you. They were expecting me
tonight.”
    “And they still are.”
    “Oh, I can’t. I don’t have any—”
    “Yes, you can go.”
    “How? I have nothing! No clothes even. Look at me, Sheriff.”
    His gaze flicked over her but it was no cursory exam. It was
long, lingering and—could she be right?—lusty. Her breasts beaded. Her pussy
pulsed. Her panties got wet. And every nerve in her body sang a Hallelujah
Chorus. When he caught her gaze he said, “My name is Wade and you are going
tonight.”
    Why? Will you be there? How can I care if you are? What
the hell is wrong with my logic meter? She ran a hand over her hair.
“Sorry. Stolen cars and high-speed chases and fires are not part of my usual
day. Believe me. I can’t go.”
    “You will. Cara and Samantha are seeing to it you have
clothes. Cara owns a women’s shop in town and—”
    “I’m hard to fit.”
    “Not from where I sit.” His extraordinary dulcet green eyes
danced over her once more.
    If he didn’t stop that, she’d leave a wet spot on his fine
leather seat from her soaked panties. Jazzed by his looks and his sweetness, she
had to be logical. “I am not your average—”
    “Size 4?” He arched a wicked brow. “No, thank god, you
definitely are not.”
    “I’m more like—”
    “Size 16. Breasts a good forty? D?”
    She stared straight ahead. “I will not ask you how you can
estimate that.”
    “So I’m right?”
    “You have a good eye.”
    He smacked his lips. “Hips, forty. The rest of you, all nice
and tight in all the right places.”
    Wow, he was such a player, but was she complaining? Only
if he has a wife. “Thanks, Sheriff, but—”
    “Wade. The name is Wade and you are provided for, Willow
Turner. I