For Sam Waters, it's Aston Hopewell. Talk about a girl out of his league. But he's just a hired hand, happy to keep his head down and work hard on her father's ranch. With a warrant out for his arrest, he can't afford trouble.
Everyone thinks Aston's life is perfect, but she knows the truth: nothing is as it seems. The only one who gets that is Sam. He understands her in a way no one ever has. But even he won't tell her everything-until the night that changes their destiny forever . . .
She barely knew Sam Waters. But she knew that something sizzled between them in a way she’d never felt. And it was so good, so tempting, that she almost wanted to throw everything else she knew out the window and straddle his lap.
But she couldn’t afford to think that way. She had to be on her guard with Sam, or he would end up taking advantage of her father. She knew the look her father got in his eyes when he was talking with Sam. He saw potential in him, and he would pull Sam up by his bootstraps until he became everything Gregory Hopewell wanted him to be.
“Come here, baby,” Princeton slurred as he pulled her roughly against him. Aston had to rise part of the way out of her chair in order to keep her arm in its socket.
“Hey, Prince,” Ashley warned. “Be easy. You’re hurting Aston’s arm.”
Sam’s head snapped around at Ashley’s declaration. His gaze locked on Aston’s arm where Princeton’s hand squeezed. Sam’s eyes narrowed and he glanced at her face. She deciphered the look in his eye almost as if she’d known him all her life and could read his mind. He was asking her if she was okay.
No one ever checked with her to see if she was okay. Everyone just always assumed that she was. A strange heat saturated her chest cavity, squeezing her heart so hard in its cage that she winced against the ache.
She nodded, just a slight tilt, hoping he understood it meant to stay where he was. He scrutinized her and Princeton, his body tense. But he didn’t come toward them.
“Get off me, Prince,” she said. She grabbed Princeton’s hand and pried his fingers off her arm. He only replaced it with his entire right arm draped across her shoulders. He pulled her face toward his with his left hand.
“You’re so gorgeous,” he said. “Kiss me.”
“No!” Aston exclaimed. “You’re trashed, Prince. Get off. I think you’re done for the night.”
Sam stood up quickly, causing panic to course through Aston. Part of her, the part way deep down inside that she tried to keep hidden, glowed at the prospect of Sam inserting himself in the middle of her and Princeton. But the rational part of her won.
It always did.
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