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hands clenched her arms, holding her still.
    She struggled against him, her chest heaving, as he leaned his weight against her, making it clear who held the reins. “I like to take my time, Samantha. There are so many fascinating places to explore on a woman’s body. So many tempting noises to tease from a mouth gone swollen from my kisses.”
    He put his mouth close to her ear. “If I take you, you’ll be mine to do with as I please. You’ll be wet.” He ground his hips against her stomach. “And you’ll beg.”
    Sweet mercy. Samantha groaned at the feel of him against her. The rigid length of his erection left no doubt he was ready to play.
    “I don’t beg,” she breathed. But oh, she wanted to.
    He loosened his grip. “No matter. You were out with another man tonight, and I don’t play sloppy seconds.”
    “Bastard.” She snorted and shoved him off. “I’d have to have firsts … first. Thanks to you, I haven’t had a man —”
    She clamped her mouth shut, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d cock-blocked her over the last year with his hovering. “And just because I like sex doesn’t make me a whore, or a bad person. Jesus, when a man likes sex, it’s as normal as breathing. But when a woman likes sex, well, that’s another story entirely.”
    Although the fact that she wanted to have sex with him right now said a lot about how fucked up her head was.
    “I’ve never called you a slut.”
    “No, you don’t need to. Your snide remarks and comments about how I dress tell the story for you.”
    He scowled. “You should go to bed.” He pointed at the T-shirt he’d brought in with him. “You can sleep in that.”
    “Now you’re telling me what I can sleep in?”
    He shoved his hands through his hair, a deep rumble emanating from his chest. “I don’t care what you sleep in, Samantha.” His voice was firm, harsh. “I thought it’d be more comfortable than what you’re wearing.”
    It was nice that he’d thought about her comfort, but she wasn’t so easily swayed. “A few hours of sleep, then I’m going home.”
    “We’ll see.”
    “You can’t keep me here against my will.”
    “I’m not fighting with you about this.”
    “This is fighting? I thought we were talking.” With them, the two were interchangeable, so it was hard to tell.
    He snorted. “Go to bed, Samantha.”
    Gladly.
    “Go to hell, Caleb.” She grabbed the whiskey bottle and slammed the door on her way out.

Chapter 3
    Samantha pulled her shirt over her head and let it drop to the floor. Her boots and jeans were the next to go.
    Her body felt alive, her skin prickling with sensitivity, anticipation. The memory of Caleb’s hands as he tended to her fired her blood in a way no other man had.
    She slipped into Caleb’s T-shirt. Soft and gray, with USMC in faded color across the front, it fell almost to her knees. She brought the neckline to her nose and breathed in. It smelled of him, spicy and male. And did nothing to help her raging libido.
    Sleep would be a long time coming if she didn’t do something to relieve the pressure that had started to build the moment Caleb grabbed her at the bar.
    She was so sick of him bossing her around, as if he knew better than she did about her own life. Caleb didn’t know a goddamned thing about her, yet he’d judged her at every turn. It bothered her more than she’d care to admit. She didn’t help the situation when she pushed his buttons, but hell-fire and damnation, he pissed her off. Who did he think he was? Her father? Caleb could act like a jerk sometimes, but he was no match for Thomas Quinn. Samantha’s father had made controlling people an art form.
    Growing up with that man had taught Samantha two things. First, she needed to get out at her earliest opportunity—which she had done—and second, no man would ever control her again.
    Caleb didn’t have any right to stop her from doing whatever she wanted. Even if that meant hooking up to