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He watches me drink, his gaze lingering on my mouth when I finish. I lick away a drop of coffee.
“Then we agree,” he finally says. “We find each other interesting. That’s a good start.” Then he claps his hand. “All right, princess. This house won’t paint itself. How are your feet? Want to try putting your boots on?”
I take over the sanding, moving on to the next window frame as he paints the first one. It’s hard work, making my shoulders and upper arms burn, but whenever I need a distraction, I just look sideways at the towering grump.
His eyebrows stay tugged together as he works, like he’s critical even of his own effort, but when he finishes that window and comes over to where I’m working, he manages a smile that lingers. “You’re a great little helper.”
“Thank you.” And I mean it. I expected a critique, and it didn’t come.
He helps me move the ladder to the third and final window on this wall, then we repeat our work.
A dark patch appears on his shirt as he works, and I feel sweat slicking down my spine, too. When we finally finish all seven windows, the cabin looks heaps better, and we look like a mess.
“You’ve got some paint on your nose,” he murmurs as we clean up. His gaze lingers on it, making me feel a fresh new wave of heat even in the warm afternoon sun.
“I feel like I’ve got a lot of dust in my hair, too…” I twist it up and off my neck. “Maybe time for a shower.”
He nods. “Or we could take a dip in the lake first. It’s refreshing.”
I dipped my toe in it yesterday. Refreshing is a very generous word for a mountain lake that will never warm up. “I’ll pass on that,” I say, laughing. “I tested those waters yesterday.”
Now his gaze slides down my body, lingering on my hips. “Would have liked to see that. Did you shriek?”
“A very quiet gasp.”
He catches his lower lip between his teeth, his eyelids hooding. It’s a dangerous look that tugs me closer to him. The same commanding, sensual air he turned on last night when he hauled me into his lap—and then I yawned in his face, just before he kissed me.
I touched myself for hours last night, thinking about the way his eyes glowed when I protested and pushed him away.
“You have a mean streak,” I whisper. “Wanting me to fight back. Wanting to see me squeal because the water’s too cold.”
He moves as if to take a big step toward me, then stops. Anticipation riots in my chest. What would he do if I pushed him too far? Would he actually spank me as he promised yesterday? Would helike it?
I glance at the path down to the lake. Then back at Justin. “Goldilocks,” he growls in warning.
I twist on the spot and take off running.
“Don’t fucking run from me,” he snaps, taking chase from behind. “You’re going to hurt your feet, you little brat.”
But someone took very good care of them yesterday, and I feel great today. I tear down the short trail, my legs churning fast, exhilaration making me laugh as I sprint toward the break in the forest, where the lake is bright blue in front of—
I hear the thunder of his footsteps a moment before the rush of his panting breath and the hard band of his arms snapping around my waist.
I’m caught.
I laugh breathlessly as he sets me down—but not letting me go.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs warmly in my ear. The way he says it, like he’s ten feet tall and will protect me from anything, does something so dangerous to me inside.
Something infinitely more risky than being chased by a mean man who might want to spank me.
CHAPTER7
JUSTIN
She trembles in my arms, and I curve my body tighter around her. “Little Miss Secrets. Why do I want you so much?”
I didn’t mean to confess that, but now that it’s out in the open, it feels right. And that’s not the part of my statement that she responds to, anyway.
