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Need to touch her, taste her, hold her and claim her. I don’t even know her name and she sure as hell doesn’t even know who the hell I am. But she might as well be tattooed with my name. That’s what she is.
Mine.
Harleigh
Slowly, oh so slowly, I feel myself starting to hear things. I hear a fire crackling. I feel warm. My skin isn’t burning with painful pins and needles. I stretch and feel the soft flannel sheets under me and over me sliding against my bare skin.
“What!” I bolt straight up in the bed and my eyes dart into every corner of the large room. I squawk when the sheets slide down and my breasts pop out.
“Relax, Angel. You’re safe.” A gruff, tired voice sounds from the shadows where the light from the fire doesn’t reach.
“Why is it so dark? How long have I been here?” My eyes slew all around the room. “Where am I?”
The chuckle sounds like gravel scraping across vocal cords. Rough and coarse. My skin tingles and I feel this weird Pavlovian response to his voice.
He steps from the shadows into the space by the bed and my mouth drops open. He’s not tall. Only about 5 foot five but it’s solid muscle. I can see them shifting under his shirt. He’s got his flannel shirt pushed up on his arms and the corded muscles in his arms makes my body quake with hunger.
My eyes fly up to his face and for just a second it feels like I can’t breathe. His face is carved from granite. Jaw sharp as a diamond. Cheeks rough-hewn and covered with a couple days’ growth of dark stubble that my mind can’t help thinking about. What would that scruff feel like against my soft skin?
But it’s his eyes that catch your attention first. They’re a deep, shimmering green like the deepest emeralds in his tanned face. But if you look closely they’re speckled with lighter peridot. They’re probably the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen on anyone, man or woman. And to top it all off and make it irresistible, he has the thickest, darkest eyelashes. Like bambi lashes if you’ve ever heard of that.
But instead of soft and playful, everything about this man is hard. Hard muscles, hard jaw, hard mouth. He’s intimidating as hell and yet I feel safe. Somewhat. My poor body feels like I’m strung up as tight as a cable.
“Do you remember anything at all? You’ve been here for a day or so now.”
The shot echoes in my ears and the sound as my date hits the pavement, dead drunk, where I drop him. My face pales and I hope that he’s okay. I mean, there was no spark there but he was a decent guy and I just took off running and left him there.
I push the memories to the back of my mind and cross my fingers behind my back. It’s childish as hell but I’m not feeling very mature right now. “No, I’m sorry. I don’t remember anything before this. I wonder if I hit my head.”
He nods his head slowly and the way his gorgeous eyes narrow and study me, it feels like he can see right through me. Like he can practically see the lie in the air. I duck my head and let my long hair swing forward to cover my face.
“Uh-huh. Well, I’m sure you’ll remember something eventually. In the meantime, are you hungry?”
“You haven’t told me who you are,” I ask him, twisting my fingers in the soft flannel quilt covering my legs. I stare down at the patchwork squares like they’re the most interesting things in the world.
“No, I haven’t. Seems only fair.” He turns to stalk away from me and I flinch, guilt nagging at me. I should tell him that there might be someone following me. But I know he’ll kick me out in the cold and I’m not sure I can move reliably yet. My legs still feel a bit like jell-o and my head is still reeling from exhaustion. The last day and a half have been the worst of my life and I just need a chance to regroup. Recharge myself before fleeing again.
“I made some soup. You’re welcome to it. Do you think you can get up and come to the table or should I find you a tray?”
I shake my head, my fingers twisting nervously. “Oh no! I don’t want to be a bother. Please. Just give me a second and I’ll…wait.” I flush beet red and pull the blanket around myself. “I don’t have any clothes on.”
He nods, not even looking remotely embarrassed. “Yeah. Your clothes were soaking. I couldn’t leave you in those. Not to mention they weren’t the right clothes for this kind of weather. What were you doing up here in those clothes? What’s your name?”
“My name is Harleigh. My car broke down. I was actually just trying to find someplace to get warm and possibly get some help since my car was on the fritz.”
“Harleigh. That’s a beautiful name.” He moves closer and scrounges around in a chest of drawers in the corner. He hands me the pile of fabric. “I don’t have any women’s clothing but I’ll be happy to loan you something.”
I take the clothes and nod. “Thank you. I really appreciate it…?”
“Bennet. My name’s Bennet, Angel.” He points over to a door in one wall. “That’s the bathroom over there. Why don’t you go ahead and get cleaned up, maybe change into my clothes? I bet it helps you feel a little more human.”
I’d like to tell him no but I would kill to get cleaned up. I feel dirty and broken.
“Thank you. I’ll be out in a couple of minutes.”
“Take as long as you need. We’ve got nothing but time. The storm has already put down about a foot of snow. Give it until morning and I bet we’re looking at a couple feet.”
Wrinkling my nose, I head for the bathroom. “I can’t tell you how much I really hate snow.”
