STORM: A Standalone Romance Read Free

fun. She followed the man's own boot prints out onto the property and up toward the hill, confident in her plan to express her thanks and hit the road.
                  She hadn't expected to end up in the arms of a stranger.
     
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    "I'm going to need you to climb onto my back," the Englishman was saying. Cara tightened her hold on his neck and pressed her lips firmly together; she could see him read her expression in a glance. "It's either that, or I throw you over my shoulder," he threatened. He spoke mildly, as he had before, but it only made his disregard for her own opinion on how they should proceed even more infuriating. She felt like he had already helped himself to touching every inch of her—the last thing she needed was for his hands to find the curve of her backside.
                  "I don't even know you," Cara responded curtly, as if that were all that needed to be said. In the normal world, that was all that would have been required to end their conversation; unfortunately, she had never held a dialogue with someone who also happened to be holding her.
                  "If I told you my name, would that really make things more expedient?" Again, she felt the warm press of his hands; his fingers curled around her ribcage in a fan, remaining just shy of the seam of her bra. Cara didn't know how he managed it, but he really was a perfect gentleman in the way that he conducted himself—other than in how he spoke to her. The accent, and his intelligent way around words, might have fooled somebody else, but she had detected his condescension from the moment he first opened his mouth.
                  "It would give me courage for the trials to come if I knew who I was dealing with," she replied.
                  "That didn't stop you from putting on my shoes," he pointed out.
                  "And it certainly didn't stop you from listening in on my phone conversation," she snapped. "But I'm not going to bring that up."
                  "I can see that." The man had the good grace to look faintly sheepish, and Cara knew she had been right in her suspicion that he had been the one eavesdropping last night. The expression softened some of the natural arrogance of his face, making him appear almost shy, and she could clearly see the picture of a shut-in. She relaxed her own expression a little in response.
                  "Please. I'd like to know your name. It's the whole reason I came out here."
                  "Simon."
                  The man slowly eased his hand out from underneath her until Cara found herself sliding vertically against him. She blushed at every bump and swell; she could feel every inch of him, and understood that he could probably feel the same. Their faces hovered, inches apart, as she maneuvered her slighter weight around to the side. She was too conscious of their position to wrap her legs around his waist fully, but she hiked one knee up over his hip. In a matter of seconds, Simon had managed to swing her around to his back—had she been ignorant of his strength before, there was no dismissing it now. The unassuming man appeared to be hiding a good deal of muscle beneath the frumpy sweater.
                  Once she had settled on his back, Cara twined her legs around his waist; Simon's hands came up once more to hitch her into place. She dropped her burning face into his shoulder as he stepped out of his boots and continued through the mud in his socks. They were out of the mire within moments.
                  Simon kept walking, ferrying her up the face of the hill he had been climbing originally. Cara wanted to protest, but she also didn't want to call any more attention to their position, so she remained silent. She could see the sun had risen almost fully over the horizon. It looked pale and fragile, as if last night's rain had extinguished some