Page 115 of Over the Line

In frustration, he slammed the device back down again.

Across the room, a full bottle of Bonds whiskey beckoned. Though he was tempted, he resisted its siren’s call.

When—if—she contacted him, he wanted a clear head. He shoved aside the niggling doubt that said he’d never hear from her again.

After all, he’d bet everything on a damn penguin.

His office phone buzzed, and Jeb’s voice filled the room. “You have a visitor driving up the road.”

He froze. “Sydney?”

“Yeah. When she left, I didn’t change the gate code.” Silence crackled, then his foreman spoke again. “Remember, son. No one likes an ultimatum.”

Jeb’s statement didn’t need a reply.

Grabbing his hat and shoving it on his head, Michael headed outside.

He’d learned from his damnable mistake.

Gut twisted, he strode to the end of the path, folding his arms, trying to convey a cool calmness.

She braked to a stop in her usual parking spot.

His inner demon demanded he stalk over to her, throw her over his shoulder, take her upstairs, paddle her ass hard in punishment for the sin of leaving him, and then fuck her until she screamed the truth to the heavens that she belonged to him and would never again leave him.

Instead, he forced himself to remain in place, impatiently waiting for her to come to him.

A moment later, she killed the engine and exited the vehicle. Then, slowly, ever so slowly, she turned to face him.

And rocked his world.

Holy fuck me to hell.

Sydney—his Sydney—was even more beautiful than he’d remembered in his dreams.

Her shorts showed off her shapely legs, and a form-fitting T-shirt hugged her upper body.

Her hair was wild and free, and she’d skipped makeup.

Even from across the distance, he read wariness in her face and hesitation in her pretty blue eyes that he’d once thought were icy.

Now he knew the truth.

It was a veneer, a barrier to protect herself. And unfortunately, she’d needed to protect herself from his demands.

Like an impending storm, tension hung between them, crackling the air.

Instinct urged him to talk to her in a language they both understood best, with a kiss, a spank, an orgasm. Then she’d melt into his embrace and be his forever.

But this was bigger than that. He wanted it all. Everything.

Patience.

Cautiously, Sydney took a step toward him. Then, after an agonizing stretch of time, a second.

He was done for.

Fuck patience.