She took a sip, and her eyes closed. A soft sound escaped her throat. Pleasure. Satisfaction. I wanted to hear it again.
I wanted to hear her make that sound as I slide inside her. I wanted to learn every sound she could make and take notes of what I did to cause them. My gaze dropped to the front of her shirt, watching the heavy, delicious weight of her breasts move slightly as she sighed. She wasn’t some fragile, runway-thin city girl who survived on celery juice. She was a real, lush woman with curves that begged to be handled roughly. I wanted my hands full of her. I wanted to sink my teeth into the soft flesh of her hip and leave a mark.
“That’s perfect,” she said, opening her eyes. “Actually perfect.”
I turned away, busying myself with cleaning the machine. I needed to do something with my hands before they did something stupid. Like reach for her.
“I’ll show you around,” I said.
I gave her the tour. Living room. Dining area. Office. Upstairs, I pushed open the guest room door. King bed. Big windows. Attached bathroom with a soaking tub.
I’d designed this room for guests I’d never had.
And now she was here.
“This is beautiful,” she said softly. “Thank you. Really. I know having a stranger in your house is probably the last thing you wanted.”
Stranger.
The word grated. “You’re not a stranger.”
She looked at me, surprised. “We just met.”
“I know.” I didn’t explain myself. She wouldn’t believe me if I told her. “Get settled. I’ll be downstairs.”
I turned to go.
“Bridger?”
I stopped in the doorway but didn’t turn around. Didn’t trust myself to look at her again.
“Thank you,” she said quietly. “For helping me. For... this.”
My hands curled into fists at my sides.
“You’re safe here,” I said.
I headed downstairs, grabbed a beer from the fridge, and walked out onto the back deck. The sun was setting and the valley stretched out below.
This was what I’d wanted when I’d moved to Lone Mountain. Peace. Solitude. No people. No complications.
And now there was a woman upstairs in my guest room who talked too much and looked at me like she couldn’t figure me out and made me think words like mine when I’d known her for all of two hours.
I took a long pull from the beer.
This was temporary. A week, maybe less if Lou got the parts early. I’d go about my business as if she wasn’t her. She’d stay here, sleep in the guest room, keep to herself. And then she’d leave.
Back to her road trip. Back to figuring out her life. Back to wherever she was going when her car decided to die in my town.
That was fine. That was the plan.
Except the thought of her leaving made something dark and possessive take hold.
I heard footsteps behind me. Light. Hesitant.
“Is it okay if I...?” Roxie’s voice.
“Yeah.”
