She should be relieved he’d turned her down. It was a good thing. She didn’t need complications in her life right now. Especially not one massive complication of a man who walled himself off like he was hiding nuclear codes inside his chest.
eleven
He’d almost kissed her.
It would’ve been a mistake, but there for a second, it was one he’d desperately wanted to make.
The image of Naomi lingered like static on the back of his eyelids—the set of her mouth, the line of her throat, the way she’d looked at him with that raw, honest wanting. Not desperate. Not soft. Just… real. And for a second, he’d actually wanted to believe he could have it, that maybe he could want something without destroying it. Without breaking her in the process.
But that wasn’t him. Never had been. He didn’t get the girl. He didn’t even get to try.
You ever get tired of being alone?
He’d said no. He really fucking wanted to mean it.
He watched the porch light flicker as she moved around inside. Shadows, movement, the faintest blue glow from her kitchen. Probably her on the phone, or pacing, or doing what she did best: keeping herself busy so the darkness didn’t catch her.
Yeah. He knew the feeling.
He should leave. He should put the truck in gear, drive back to the Ridge, and get some goddamn work done. Anything to shake the memory of her from his bloodstream.
Instead, he just sat there, hands locked on the wheel, replaying that moment in the cab. The air between them electric, tight as wire, her face inches from his, those stubborn eyes daring him to take what he wanted.
He almost had. God, he’d wanted to. Would’ve been so fucking easy to just bridge the gap, taste her. Mark her. Make her forget the whole world except for what he could do with his mouth, his hands, his body.
Instead, he’d pulled back, because that was what he did. He didn’t cross lines. Didn’t risk it. Didn’t let himself want.
But he did want.
He wanted her with a bone-deep ache that made his hands shake on the steering wheel, just thinking about the way her lips had parted, waiting, hungry, right there in the dark, inches from his.
He could’ve gone for it. Should’ve. Would’ve wrecked her composure, made her gasp, maybe even made her beg.
God, he wanted to.
But that wasn’t his style, was it? No. He was the ice man. The one who never gave in, especially not to something as reckless as want.
Still, he sat there in the cab, pulse throbbing so loud he could hear it in his ears, replaying that last second over and over. The way her gaze had dropped to his mouth. The way her breath shuddered in her chest.
He’d felt the challenge in her, wild and stubborn and so fucking alive. Daring him.
He’d nearly broken. Just one twitch of muscle, one slip of control, and he would’ve had her against the seat, tasting her mouth, her throat, her skin. Would’ve had her arching into him,hands all over, nails scoring his scalp as he took her apart piece by piece.
Instead, he’d pulled back, because restraint was the only thing that kept him safe. The only thing he trusted.
And now all that pent-up need was coiled in his gut, raw and restless, with no outlet.
Cinder whined from the backseat, and he jolted, lifting his gaze to the rearview mirror. The dog never whined, not in all three years he’d known her. She was watching him with a soft uncertainty in her eyes that made something in his chest twist painfully.
He reached over the seat and scratched her ear. “Yeah, I know, girl. It’s fine.”
He told himself that all the way up the Ridge’s long, winding drive, past the edge of the pines where nothing moved except the wind and maybe a couple of deer watching him from the tree line.
He pulled in beside the bunkhouse, lights off, Cinder panting in the seat next to him. The dog watched his every move, ears up, waiting for a command. Or maybe for him to get his shit together and act like a normal human for once.
He took her to her kennel and got her settled with fresh water and a bowl of kibble. But he paused before shutting the door. The other dogs all slept with their people. Even that hairy overgrown menace, King, had an entire twin bed to himself in Bear’s room.
Ghost hesitated, hand on the latch. In the dark, Cinder cocked her head, ears up, eyes locked on his.
