There’s a difference between longing and living out a fantasy. There’s also a difference between desiring intimacy with someone who’s your dream guy and wanting something that you know is bad for you. Dream guy or not, I know it can and won’t end well with Kellan.

I stand rooted to the spot for a good five minutes before I decide that whoever Kellan is, he’s definitely not someone you want to let too close to you or your heart.

For one, he’s too good-looking. Beautiful people always get away with anything.

And second, while I’ve met my fair share of bad boys, and, as such, am rather familiar with their game, Kellan takes it to a whole new level.

He’s too arrogant for his own sake.

He behaves like every woman is fair game and the world is his playground. If he thinks he only has to ask and I’ll jump on his bandwagon, he’s mistaken. The fact that he wants me and makes no secret out of us never being more than just a fling makes him a whole different kind of dangerous.

It’s all too tempting.

I don’t know how to deal with someone like him.

Keeping away from him is no longer just an option. It’s become a priority because there’s no way I’ll ever turn into one of the women he’s used and left behind.

“I’m heading back inside,” I call out and begin my ascent before he can stop me.

“What about work?” he shouts.

“You can do it yourself. I have no intention of staying.”

“Fine. Suit yourself. Let’s see how far you get without me.”

Wow.

The guy really assumes I’ll need him just because I’m a woman.

Talk about being sexist.

“Condescending jerk,” I say and head in the direction from where we came.

“I heard you,” Kellan yells after me.

“I hope so.” I turn back to him, my gaze boiling. “Because that’s my honest opinion of you.” I continue walking with Sniper glued to my ankle, glancing over my shoulder a few times to see whether Kellan’s coming after me. He makes no attempt to follow.

That’s fine by me.

Sniper is a much better companion anyway.

The house is a long way up the hill. From where I’m standing, I can’t even see it, but I’m confident it’ll barely take me ten minutes to reach it, fifteen minutes tops. I huff and groan as I trudge through the mud, and realize climbing up a hill is way worse than climbing down. I’ve barely managed to walk a few yards when a gust of wind whips against my face. I lose my equilibrium for a moment and tumble backward.

I fall on my backside, and a scream escapes my throat.

The pain shooting through my ankle is excruciating. My vision blurs. I bite my lip hard to stifle the yelp lodged deep in my throat. Sniper barks once, then twice, and then he runs off, probably frightened by my scream.

“Fuck. Fuck,” I mutter as I try to scramble to my feet but find that I can’t.

My hands go to my throbbing ankle. It burns when I touch it.

“Are you okay?”

Kellan’s voice reaches me a moment before he does. I nod and look up at him through the curtain of unwanted tears clouding my vision. Sniper barks again. He’s standing next to Kellan, eyeing us both.

“Good boy,” Kellan says to the dog. “He came to get me.”

“I’m fine,” I squeeze through gritted teeth, even though I’m anything but. The throbbing pain in my ankle shoots up to my knee in long pangs. In spite of the wind, my back is slick with sweat. I broke my arm when I was five and had my tonsils removed at nine, so I know what physical pain feels like. However, this hurts so much, I might just pass out.

My ankle feels like it’s been run over by a truck.

“I’m fine, “ I say again. Pushing up on my arm, I try to stand—to no avail.

“Let me see.” Before I can protest, Kellan’s pulled off my boot and his fingers are on my bare skin, inspecting, prodding.

His touch is torture.

“It hurts,” I choke out.

“I hope it’s not broken,” he mutters.

I rise up on my elbows to get a better look and instantly wish I hadn’t. A large, purple bruise is forming where the bone is located, and my foot looks like it’s about to swell.

Kellan presses his fingertips against it, and I whimper. He holds my ankle in place, then presses some more, moving his fingers around.

“Not broken,” he declares eventually. “I think it’s just a minor sprain, but it could be worse. I’ll take you back to the house and get it bandaged up for you.”

“No, thank you,” I mutter. “I’ll be fine.”

“Ava, you’re not fine. You can’t walk. You need help.”

I do, but I’m still angry with him.

“I don’t want your help,” I hiss. “I don’t need help from someone who doesn’t like me but wants to use me for a good fuck.”

He lets out a breath. “What I said was out of line. I didn’t mean it.”

I scoff. “Yeah, right. What part? The one about wanting me or not liking me?”

Sighing, he sits down next to me. “About not liking you. Obviously, there are parts of you that I like.”

I stare at him in disgust.

Is he talking about my body?

He makes it sound like that’s a good thing.

“Forget it.” I make a move to get up, but he holds me down.

“I don’t know you, obviously. I can only judge from what I’ve seen so far. You’re likeable in general. I do enjoy your company, otherwise I would have sent you away.”

He likes my company—the thought makes me smile just a little bit. “You’re just saying that because you want to help me.”

Kellan shakes his head slowly. “No, I’m saying that I sort of care for you. That’s all. I find that difficult to deal with.”

His words strike me speechless.

Our gazes lock, and something passes between us. A moment later, another jolt of pain shoots up my ankle, and I wince.

“That’s it. I’m not taking no for an answer,” Kellan says, our strange moment broken.

I nod and hold my breath as he lifts me up in his arms like I weigh nothing and cradles my head against his shoulder as he carries me back to the barn.

The shooting pain becomes a dull, consistent throb, and I bite my lip to hold back a swear word.

We reach the barn, and he saddles a horse, then helps me up, both of my legs dangling on one side. He places himself behind me, one hand holding the rein, the other wrapped around my waist to keep me secured in place as he guides the horse.

Even though it’s the last thing I want, I press my palm against his thigh to hold on for support. His muscles are hard and defined. Broad from riding and God knows what else. His chest feels like steel against my face.

“Hold on to me.” His voice is gentle. I nod and do as he requested. “Ready?” he asks.

I nod, and the horse jolts into action.

Up close, he smells amazing. I inhale the blend of heat and shower gel, of nature and something so heady it makes me want to press my lips against his skin just to see what happens.

Good thing he’s sitting behind me, oblivious to the nature of my thoughts and the irregular beat of my heart.

Get a grip.

He’s just a guy, albeit the hot and forbidden kind.

Like my mother used to say, all women go through the phase of liking a bad boy…they fuck one, cry over one, and then they marry the boring and safe accountant next door.

I’ve tried my hand at the dating part plenty of times. Most of the guys I went for were boring, and just plain jerks, who thought sex follows shortly after the drink tab and is a mandatory part of any first date. However, none of them were like Kellan.

My fingers travel up just a little bit—obviously in need of something to hold on to. Something hard is prodding my hip—I can’t tell if it’s the saddle or if the situation is getting Kellan excited.

The thought gets me so hot and bothered, I suck in a gulp of air. My lungs feel devoid of oxygen, and my breath is coming in odd little bursts. The picture of him naked and sprawled out on a bed instantly enters my mind. Certain parts of him are blurred, like even my fantasy knows that nothing I’ve ever seen before could measure up to him. I want to look, if only to see whether that part of him is as delicious as the rest. But I refuse to give in to my perverted brain’s command.