by Penny Wylder
I couldn’t even find my voice to say anything, so I just went upstairs.
His bedroom is gorgeous, the entire second story of the cabin is one open space, with a giant bed and bookshelves and a reading area, and bathroom so big it belongs in a palace and not the middle of the woods.
I stayed too long in the luxurious hot water, and it was probably the day’s work but I think it was the best shower I’ve ever had. Or maybe it was because his words stuck in my head.
Let me know if you want me to join you.
The thoughts that question raise are naughty. Oh, I do want him to join me in the shower. I want to know what Robert Logan looks like when he showers. How the water looks cascading down those perfect abs. What delicious treat is hiding under those tight jeans. Just thinking about his cock makes my mouth water.
My clothes are soaked through with sweat and I need to wash them, so I try to disguise the fact that I’m not wearing any underwear under his clothes. I’m swimming in them—which helps—and thankfully the T-shirt isn’t white.
Robert is in the room, and he freezes when he sees me. A long, slow look up and down my body. His voice is rough when he speaks. “You look good in my clothes.”
I touch my hair, which is soaking wet. “Thanks.” I mean, I look like a drowned rat—I just saw myself in the mirror—but I don’t have any doubt that he actually means it. It feels nice…to be noticed. After everything happened, it felt like I was suddenly invisible. People who had known me for years stopped looking at me. I never knew that you could miss it. But the way Robert looks at me, he sees me. And even without the fact that I’m dying to touch him, the attention is intoxicating. I realize that we’re staring at each other, frozen.
“There’s some food downstairs,” he says.
“Okay.”
It’s dark outside now. Darkness falls quickly in the mountains, and even though it’s early, I think I could go to sleep right now.
There’s a plate of pasta on the island and I practically inhale it before collapsing on the couch. This couch is comfortable. So comfortable, I’ll just close my eyes—
I snap awake to a soft tapping sound. It’s completely dark now; I must have fallen asleep. But from under the door to Robert’s workshop there’s a blaze of light, and again the muffled tapping sound. What time is it?
The clock in the kitchen says it’s three in the morning. Has he been working since I fell asleep?
I creep closer to the door and listen. No sound other than the tapping. It’s open a crack already, so I push it open the rest of the way. Robert’s back is to me, wearing nothing but soft pajama pants, his skin with the faint sheen of sweat.
“Robert?” I say it softly so I don’t startle him, but he whirls around anyway.
His hair his messy and his dark eyes are wild. Not in a scary way, but like he’s been…caught up. That focus that I admired earlier today is on me now, and I’m pinned to the spot.
“I woke you.” It’s not a question.
“I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Have you been working long?”
He drags a hand through his hair. “No. This sculpture has had me stumped, and I woke up, and I…knew what it had to be.”
He steps aside and I approach the wood to see what he’s been doing. I don’t have an artistic bone in my body, and I wonder what he sees that I don’t.
Robert takes my hand, and I jump at the contact. His hands are rough against my skin and he guides my fingers over the wood. “One single line,” he says. “Looping in and out of itself, never breaking.”
“You can do that?”
“Yes.”
I can feel his attention shift away from the sculpture and onto me, and suddenly I become aware of just how close we’re standing. His hand is still on mine, and he weaves our fingers together. He turns, and I turn to him, and I have to look up to see his face, and I do. Just long enough to see it in his eyes.
And then he’s kissing me, and oh—
I’ve lost my breath and I can’t get it back and I don’t want it back, he can have it. Robert’s arms come around me and he sweeps me against the wall, pressing me against it.
There’s no hesitation in this kiss, no doubt. He tilts my face up to his and kisses me deeper, and I let him. It’s been a long time since I’ve been kissed, and everything in my body feels like it’s glowing. Like Robert is made of sunlight and he’s pouring it into me. Pleasure coils down through my gut and I want more.
It feels like this was meant to happen, like there’s no barrier between us to stop us from falling into each other and never coming back. God, I love the feel of his body against mine, pure heat and fire and arousal. I’m wet and ready, and he pulls back for a second for air, and we both freeze.
Robert’s eyes are so dark they’re black, and he’s staring into mine, through me. His hand is curled around the back of my neck, thumb along my jaw, and the tiny stroke of his finger on my skin feels even more intimate than the kiss.
“This is a bad idea,” I say.
Robert’s eyes don’t leave mine. “Yes, it is.” But he doesn’t move. We stay there, pressed up against each other, just breathing.
Finally, there’s a moment. “We should get some sleep,” he says, and the tension falls out of the air.
“Yeah.” I swallow. No matter how aroused I am in this moment, this won’t end well. It’s better to stop now. Before we go too far. He steps away from me and I’m cold. “Good night.”
I don’t look back as I go to the couch and curl up under the blankets he’s given me. I close my eyes, and I force myself to keep them closed as he turns off the light and I hear the creak of him walking up the stairs. Just a single day and we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. And that single kiss was better than anything I could have imagined. How am I supposed to make it to thirty, knowing how that feels?
This is going to be harder than I thought.
6
Robert
Fuck. I strip off my pants and step directly into the shower. There’s no way I can go straight back to bed after that.
I shouldn’t have kissed her. I’m not sorry that I did, but it’s like tasting a piece of perfect, delicious, forbidden fruit. Given what’s standing between us, she’s right. It’s a bad idea. A bad idea that was the hottest thing I’ve felt in years and it was only a kiss.
I hiss out a breath as the cold water hits my skin, but I’m so aroused the temperature doesn’t even make a dent. The last thing I wanted to do was step away from her. I wanted to kiss her again, and keep kissing her.
I give in to the fantasy, because I know that it’s going to play behind my eyes all night anyway. My hand drops to my cock, and I stroke it, letting my imagination pick up where we left off. I would have peeled her out of that shirt I gave her, keeping it for later, because I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything sexier than a freshly wet Anna wearing my clothes.
I want to see the skin she’s hiding underneath. I want to see if her nipples are the same pink as her blush. I would bet that they are, and I felt them against my chest while we were kissing. I want my mouth on them. I want to hear her gasp as I use my tongue on her skin until she’s aching with arousal.
I brace myself against the shower wall, stroking faster. I would have licked my way down her stomach until I was able to peel her out of those pants. I watched her gardening today, and my hands on her hips was all I could think about for an hour.
My fingers tracing down the skin of her thighs and parting them, seeing how wet she is for me and making her moan with my fingers and tongue. God—
Pleasure rolls through me as I come, stroking my shaft through the waves of my orgasm and letting the freezing water wash it away.
I turn off the water and lean against the shower wall, catching my breath, the images of Anna still fresh and vivid in my mind. It’s a bad idea. It’s such a bad idea. But that kiss isn’t going to be enough.
Anna didn’t come out here looking for someone to fuck. She came for
herself. Whatever my father’s offering her, she needs. She wasn’t expecting…me. Who I actually am. And I sure as hell wasn’t expecting her.
I don’t bother to put my pants back on, collapsing into bed. Yesterday, I thought I was making this bet so I could have more time. Time to find a way out of whatever plan my father has. Today, after that kiss, I’m not sure what I’m making the bet for.
The next two days Anna and I circle each other. We eat together and work alongside each other, mostly in silence. I tell her what I need her to do and she does it without complaining. When I asked her to stay, not only was I buying time, but I didn’t think she’d make it. I thought she’d say she was going home after the first day.
Whatever my father has offered her must be valuable. I’ve had her hauling logs and working in the garden, washing the dishes and being an extra set of hands while I chop wood and work on the sculpture.
We catch each other’s eyes now and then, and I feel her lips pressed against mine and suddenly I’m struggling to adjust my jeans. Every night I’ve made myself come thinking about what it would be like to fall into bed with her, and it’s barely enough to keep the lust that surges through me every time I look at her in check. Barely.
It’s been nice to have another person around, even if I’m never going to actually admit that I was lonely. Because I wasn’t. But maybe you don’t realize that you’re lonely until you have someone there.
But there’s another question that echoes around in my mind as I watch the obvious city girl disappear into the work. What happens if she stays? What happens to me and the fact that my attraction to her feels strange and deep and like nothing I’ve felt before? What happens to her? Will my father actually give her what he promised, and will it fix whatever thing she’s desperate for? And lastly, what happens at the end of thirty days when she’s still here and I have to keep my promise to go back to Boston and speak to the man I swore I’d never set eyes on again?
Today, the third day since the kiss, the day is hot. I’m sweating through my clothes and I take off my shirt not long after I start working. I can feel Anna’s eyes on me, and every time I catch her staring I give her a wink—I like the way it makes her blush. But I’m looking too. The way she takes drinks of water, the way her hips move as she walks. The way her shirt is clinging to her breasts as she moves.
By the time I’m finished for the day, I know that a shower isn’t going to cut it. I turn on the heat to my giant outdoor bathtub. Not quite a jacuzzi—there aren’t any jets, but it’s set around the west side of my house behind the workshop with a stunning view down the mountain.
I uncover the tub, and it’s already steaming, the water perfectly still and smooth. I grab some towels from the house and put them near the ladder before heading over to the garden where Anna is digging little holes in neat rows for carrots.
I tap her on the shoulder. “Come with me.”
She puts away her tools and gloves before she follows me, and I lead her around the house. I unbutton my jeans as I turn the corner and let them fall, and I smile as I hear her intake of breath. Good to know that my ass can still make a woman stop in her tracks.
I climb up the ladder and sink into the water, turning to Anna and seeing her staring with her mouth open. “Hot soak?”
Anna rubs her hands on her pants like she’s wiping dirt from them, but there’s nothing there. “I—” She swallows. “I don’t have a bathing suit.”
“Clearly neither do I,” I say, smirking. Leaning forward onto the ledge that surrounds the tub, I raise myself out of the water just enough so that she can see the water lining my naked hips and that there’s absolutely nothing underneath. She knew that, but I want her to see. “Are you scared?”
“No,” she says too quickly. Then she’s walking toward the tub with determination. “Close your eyes.”
7
Anna
I can’t believe I’m doing this. I strip off my clothes quickly and climb the ladder into the tub, submerging myself so that I’m hidden. Who am I kidding? This mountain water is crystal clear and I don’t think much of my body is left to the imagination, but oh my God, this feels so good. The water is heated through, and it seeps into my skin, a welcome relief to the aching in my muscles.
“Okay,” I say.
Robert opens his eyes, and I’m glad the water’s hot. My skin is already pink and he won’t be able to see me blush. I’ve barely been able to look him in the eye the past two days, afraid that I’ll pounce on him and finish what we started in his workshop. It doesn’t stop him from looking though, or me for that matter. There’s a slow smile that crosses his face when he sees that I’m looking below the water, and I turn away quickly. “I didn’t know this tub was here.”
“I put it on this side of the house for the view.”
It’s a gorgeous view, and the sun is falling in the sky at the perfect angle right now. It’s filtering through some of the higher trees, casting dappled shadows across us and the water. I almost wish it were possible to capture light in a sculpture. I’d ask him to do one of this view for me.
“Does it hurt?” Robert’s voice is soft, gentle, and I realize what he’s talking about. The scar. My back is to him. Some days I can almost forget that it’s there, until I can’t. I can’t stop my shoulders from going stiff, and I close my eyes, fighting down the panic and the memories. “I’m sorry,” Robert says. “I’ve seen some scars like that before, and I know they can sometimes cause residual pain.”
“It’s fine,” I say, turning towards him again mostly to hide it. “It doesn’t bother me.”
Most days it doesn’t. There are some days when it hurts, almost like what I imagine a phantom limb would feel like—only mine is reliving the pain of the accident and everything that it’s caused since. I cross my arms tightly and look back out over the view. It’s such a beautiful day, I don’t want to ruin it with thinking about everything that’s happened. That’s fun for no one.
Robert stands up off the seat in the water and crosses the tub to me. I can’t even breathe when he’s this close. When he’s this close and naked. “Let me see,” he says. His hands skim my shoulders, turning me away so he can see my back again, and I honestly have no idea why I let him. I know what it looks like. It’s jagged and ugly, carving a thick line up from my left side up to my right shoulder.
I stiffen when he touches it. I can’t remember the last time anyone besides a doctor actually did that. The few liaisons I’ve had in the past two years have all avoided my eyes when they’ve seen it, or asked me to hide it so they wouldn’t have to look at it during sex. But Robert doesn’t say anything. His fingers start low on my side, tracing the scar tissue up and over my spine and up to my shoulder.
“You’re tense.”
“Yes.” It’s all I can do not to say it through my teeth.
“I can help with that.”
I bark a laugh, about to make a comment about how there are some things that you can’t help, but I swallow my words, and my laugh turns into a moan. Robert’s hands are on my shoulders again, this time pulling, pressing, massaging them into relaxation and damn, it feels good. I used to get regular massages to help with the scar pain and stress. I can’t afford that now. But I might just have to pay Robert to do this because his hands were made for this.
Leaning back into him, I close my eyes. This is perfect. I didn’t realize how tight my muscles were from bending over, working the garden and helping him with his sculpture. His hands work their way down my back, gliding and stretching over my ribs, straying almost to my stomach. He stops short of being in more sexy territory, but my senses suddenly narrow to a pinpoint.
Some part of me knew that if I got in this tub we would end up here, and even though it could be bad for both of us, I still made that choice. I breathe out again, leaning further into him.
“Anna,” his voice is rough and dark. “I’m going to kiss you. If you don’t want me to, tell me now.”
I don’t say anything.
I turn before he has the chance and turn my face up to his, and then we’re kissing, and I’m all fire. I’m like the forest in summer, just ready to catch the spark, and now that I have, it’s going to take something monumental to quench the fire. I’m pressed up against him now, and I can feel him. All of him and god he’s big. So big. and I can’t even think about that because his hand is tangling in my hair, tilting my head further back so he can kiss me more deeply. It’s an overwhelming kiss, full of pent up tension and need.
Robert’s other hand is on my back, pressing us closer. Aching want is running through me, gathering in my pussy and I don’t care that this shouldn’t happen. It’s going to. I want it to. I pull back to breathe, gasping, and Robert doesn’t miss a beat. He pulls my head back even further, running lips, tongue, and teeth along my neck and the line of my jaw. Even in the steaming heat of the tub, I shiver. My nipples are hard, aching against his chest. Exquisite torture.
I can’t move, not with his hand cradling my head like this. Pulling back to look at me, he meets my eyes, and they’re as dark as they were in the workshop—something feral and wild in them. “There will be more of this,” he says, gently moving his hips against mine and drawing attention to the fact that he’s rock hard between us, “and there will be times for it to be slow and gentle. This isn’t going to be any of those things.” He leans close and presses his lips against my ear. “I’m going to take you hard, because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about how my cock is going to feel inside you.”
I shiver at the raw truth in his words, and I want it. I wanted it that first night in the workshop when he was wild and untamed and dizzy with creativity, and I want it now that he’s dark and focused and has me captive in his arms. So I close my eyes, and arch my body into him, and say, “Yes.”
