Spurred

“Fuck.”
The curse slipped out at the sight of her. There was no other word for it. She was too gorgeous and I was too screwed. I’d hoped the pictures I’d seen of her had been wrong. That her hair wasn’t a fiery shade of red. That the curl in it wouldn’t get wrapped around my fingers when I held her in place for kisses. That she didn’t have a spray of freckles across her nose. Or full breasts, rounded hips. Gorgeous, ripe ass.
No, one look at the pictures my lead investigator had emailed and I’d gone hard as a rock. She was perfect. And when I’d shown them to Riley, he’d nodded in agreement. No words had been needed.
And now, with her standing before me in her floral sundress, her shoulders bare except for two thin, little straps holding it all up, I was completely and totally fucked.
Because she was mine. Mine and Riley’s. This woman, the first Steele daughter to be found and come to Montana, was well and truly claimed. She just didn’t know it yet. And all I’d said to her was “fuck.”
And of course, with the one word, I’d blown it. She startled and looked up at me with surprise and a hint of fear in her eyes. When she took a step back and glanced around the baggage claim area for either an escape or for someone to help her, I clenched my jaw tight.
Yeah, I got that a lot. I was a big fucker, but I wouldn’t hurt her. I’d never hurt her. I’d thought about how the first time we’d meet would go, and it hadn’t been like this.