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She shut down that mood-dampening thought, preferring to focus on the zap of delight at witnessing this man’s confusion. His physique gave off an air of pure masculine strength that made her feel small, that sensation, along with her ability to ruffle him right back, refreshingly exhilarating.
“I grew up in Boston.” Dean’s stare deepened, and her stomach compressed before he added. “I live in Los Angeles now, and I’m in Harlow for a work project.”
Of course, Dean here didn’t know that her little brother lived in Boston and had done so with their dad for the last ten years. Her heart ached a little every time she thought of Chip and the years they’d missed, though she’d visited a couple of times and had become familiar with the Massachusetts drawl.
Dean stepped closer, and she drew a quick breath, confused at how a simple dark look from him could disarm her. “And before you ask, no, I won’t tell you what my work is.”
Magnetic didn’t sum him up. His quiet confidence put her own unaffected persona to shame. She should have enjoyed the unshakable prickle rushing over her skin, but no one she’d ever met held a matchstick to his strong presence. Not Blaine, not her father, not even the rowdy, raucous, salt-of-the-earth men she dealt with at work.
She slipped back, a nervous laugh escaping her lips. Since when did she do nervous laughs? “Why so secretive about your job?”
“I never said I was.” His rough smile curled higher, revealing a row of perfect white teeth, the glint in his eyes hinting an awareness of his unfair advantage.
Unlike her, he was perfectly okay with whatever nerve-shattering tension buzzed between them, like he could handle being out of his element. His steady shift to close the small gap she’d created confirmed that fact. “I’m just having a hard time thinking about work right now.”
She shuffled back again, and the glint in his eyes intensified, as though he knew something she didn’t. Another step back revealed what that “thing” was. Her heel hit the trunk of a tree. She glanced up at the silver maple looming above her, her heart rattling against her ribcage, while her downward glance revealed the spread in Dean’s grin.
He had her sandwiched between himself and the tree. His arching posture suggested he could kiss her if he wanted to. Her mind raced over her sudden lack of control. Was this what she wanted, too? Given her position, did she have a choice?
She snapped her attention to her right where she had room enough to run and never look back if she wished, but her legs held firm, refusing to move. Her focus collided with those deep cobalt eyes again, the hulking man before her shaking his head ever so slowly.
“Only if you want me to, Sarah.”
The statement posed a dangerously sexy challenge, and one she might enjoy all too much. His gaze dropped lower to her lips, denoting the “want” she debated over. Did she want this man, with all his heat and intensity, to kiss her?
Her broken engagement and the potential for town gossip might have put her off men forever, but this particular man—a total stranger to her and anyone she knew—seemed like her one exception. He wouldn’t be in town long. He couldn’t rat her out to anyone here. And he might just be the distraction she needed.
She found herself nodding, a shaky, sharp sort of movement, before she spoke a raspy, “I want you to.”
That stare, she didn’t think it could get more intense, but the slight narrowing of his eyes proved her wrong. An immense amount of his focus honed solely on her while he lifted his large hand and pressed it into the tree beside her head.
The action inched him ever closer, but he still didn’t touch her. “You’re scared of me.”
Her world stilled, though her mouth wavered, her failing attempt to deny. His hard features settled, and a sincere and gorgeous man stepped to the forefront. “I’m not here to hurt you.”
A rough huskiness scrubbed all pride from his tone. More than anything in this moment, she wanted to believe him, but she’d heard those sentiments before. Hurt came in so many forms. Did she trust this man not to harm her on a physical level? Despite his size, yes, instinct said she could. But anything on an emotional level…
Don’t overthink this. I deserve the escape. To just have fun. He’ll leave Harlow soon enough.
She found herself nodding, her body burning with an urge for that fiery simmer of a forbidden first kiss. As if he’d read the yearning in her eyes, he leaned in, and her eyes slammed shut. The first smooth and decisive brush of his lips stilled her blood as well as her breath, his soft exploration quick to escalate to an all-engulfing kiss.
His hard pressure matched her growing desire, and she rose to his unspoken challenge, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and drawing him in. The tension in her body thawed in his embrace, her lips answering his in one hot and melting glide. He pressed his large and solid body into her, mirroring her hunger.
No one had ever ravished her like this. So insistent. So unreservedly passionate. His touch was a dark spell twisting low in her core, one that released an enthralling kind of magic. Everything about him, from his hypnotic scent to his overwhelming physicality, held her captive while obliterating all her cares.
She wanted more. More heat. More oblivion. But he broke the kiss and stared at her in a prolonged and painful silence.
“Shit!” He ground the expletive out, his now wide gaze snapping to a point over her shoulder.
She jolted. His abrupt change. His stiff posture. What had happened?
He turned away, his attention skittering about the clearing, his focus eventually landing on her again.
“I’m sorry.” His expression fell slack, weak and apologetic, but then he did something truly unexplainable and bolted away.
