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I push that thought away, telling myself it’s impossible.
Sparkplug.
Fine, he gave me a nickname, we had some friendly banter. He was probably just surprised to find me down there and thought it best to be friendly to his daughter’s friend. It doesn’t mean anything.
“Fiona’s out,” Saul says.
“I know,” I murmur. “She left me a note.”
A quiet hangs between us. Outside, a bird chirps, the wind rustles. With miles and miles of snowy countryside around us, with the inner warmth so different from the outer cold, it feels as if we’re the only two people left on an abandoned world.
I feel my nipples harden and tingle and I’m glad the fabric of the bathrobe is so thick, that he can’t see my evident, untamable lust.
“Okay then,” Saul says, that light smirk touching his lips, almost like the suggestion of a smile. Making this man crack a true ear-to-ear grin might become one of my goals in life. “I’ll leave you to it. Are you okay with Jasper or do you want me to take him?”
I keep stroking the not-so-little guy, his bright eyes, and his grinning face more than enough to set my heart melting.
“I’m okay,” I tell him.
Saul turns to leave and, crazily, I’m opening my mouth again. I’m talking. I barely even hear my own words before they’re out.
“I was thinking of making breakfast actually,” I say. “I mean if you don’t mind. Maybe I could make you some too? You know, to say thanks for letting me stay.”
He turns back to me and again his eyes flit over me.
I imagine him mentally peeling away the bathrobe, revealing my bare skin, and somehow being delighted in what he finds.
In reality, I know that a man like Saul Sykes – a Formula One star, a muscular freaking goliath – could get women far more model-like than me.
But it doesn’t stop my mind from throwing up the possibilities.
His smirk twitches and he stands up straighter. Every inch of him roars with power, like a silverback gorilla beating his chest to mark his territory. But it’s more subtle than that, more of an undertone, as though he won his territory decades ago and is now free to do whatever – or whoever – he wants.
Being held by him would be like being cradled by a benevolent predator.
“I’ll never turn down a meal,” he says, his eyes burning into me.
Am I your meal, Saul?
I imagine all of this, of course, projecting my own desires onto him. Really he’s probably just being friendly, the same way he was just being friendly last night. If I were to reveal all my spinning thoughts to him now, the best response I could hope for is blank bemusement.
The worst would see me being kicked onto the snowy doorstep with him telling me to get the heck out of here.
“Right, great,” I say, rising to my feet and walking toward the door.
“Don’t you want to…” He trails off, eyes narrowed like a hunter. “Actually, never mind Sparkplug. After you.”
Sparkplug.
At least that confirms that I didn’t dream last night’s exchange.
I walk ahead of him, unwilling to look back in case some quality in his expression causes me to second guess all of this. It’s not as though this is some carefully thought out plan. I don’t even know why I made the offer, except for the chance to be close to him, to feel his stare, to smell his musky manly scent, and hear the growly huskiness of his voice.
I walk to the end of the hallway, stopping next to a hanging tapestry, and then turn left on a whim.
“Wrong way, Sparkplug,” Saul says, chuckling now.
“Oh, it’s funny?” I sass, spinning on him, unable to stop myself.
He stands a few feet away, hands hanging at his sides, ready to use, ready to own. Jasper sits at his feet, head tilted, as though he’s trying his best to interpret the conversation.
“No offense intended, Sadie,” he says. “It’s just too tempting to tease you. Your blushing face is just too sweet.”
“I do not blush,” I snap … blushing. “Now, if you’ll point me in the right direction, I may consider not poisoning your breakfast.”
“Well, in that case,” he growls. “I’ll have to watch you very carefully every step of the way.”
Our eyes meet. Is he thinking the same thing?
What are we doing? What does this mean?
I look to Jasper, the big lovable boy sitting there patiently. At least I have him as a buffer between us. It’s not like anything’s going to happen with him in the room, not that anything’s going to happen anyway.
But still.
Better safe than sorry.
Then Jasper grins, a little mischievously it seems to me, and paws regally past me and down the hallway.
“He’s taking himself for a walk,” Saul says, probably reading my confusion. “He does that around this time most days. He likes to walk the grounds. He’ll be back in an hour.”
