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Our eyes lock. Goddammit. The expression on her face is spellbinding. There are goosebumps dancing all over my skin. I’m so hard, it’s painful.
And slowly, we’re rubbing and grinding against each other. Over and over and over again. The friction is nothing short of amazing. I’m so turned on, it’s embarrassing. But in my defense, this is the closest my dick has been to a pussy in the past four years.
Four years of drought. Four years of starvation.
Now, there’s nothing but two layers of fabric—my boxers, her panties—separating my dick from his number one favorite place in the world.
All the other obstacles are gone. Everything that’s been keeping us apart over the past four years is gone. Everything except these…two…fucking…layers of fabric.
Of course I know we shouldn’t be doing this. But, that needy look in her eyes has me aching to make all kinds of bad decisions.
Alana leans down over me, drawing closer. My attention snags on the way her tongue peeks out and darts across her pouty bottom lip. Spellbound, I find myself reaching up and cupping the back of her head. Desperate for that fucking bottom lip.
But just as I’m about to tangle my fingers in her hair and haul her mouth to mine, life intervenes and kicks us off this runaway train headed for disaster.
Whack! Whack, whack, whack!
“Shit.” She scrambles backward, retreating. And I snap to my senses, too.
The loud chopping sound rings out again.Whack, whack, whack!
Alana clambers to her feet and stumbles over to the window. Feeling dizzy and lightheaded, I rise off the floor and follow her. Through the maze of tree trunks just beyond the glass, I catch sight of an old lumberjack swinging his ax in the woods.Whack, whack!
“Jimmy,” I grunt.
She grasps at the front of her shirt, exhaling with relief. “Damn. That startled the hell out of me.”
After a moment of standing side by side, staring out the window, my gaze swings to Alana, and hers swings to me. The space between us incinerates.
Her eyes are tentative, embarrassed…and scorching with want.
With those doe-like blue peepers and that wispy golden hair, with her pillowy lips and her hard nipples straining against the thin fabric of her T-shirt, she looks so damn sweet. So innocent. Like an angel.
An angel who wants to get fucked.
And then I remember—this is the woman who broke me.
That innocent look is deceitful. She might as well be an assassin sent by the devil himself, here to finish me off. And when she looks at me with that soft, wanting stare, I might as well be on my knees with my hands tied behind my back. I’m at her mercy.
My head is pounding with lust. Hell—every inch of my body is pounding with the need to pin my ex-wife to the tiny bed and bury myself in the tight, slick space that still haunts my dreams four years after I let her walk away from me.
But that would be a dumb goddamned idea.
Alana’s lips move like she’s about to speak. But suddenly, I just need to get away from her. That would be the best thing for both of us. Because if I don’t get out of here, I’m going to do something I’ll regret.
“I should…” I jab a thumb over my shoulder in the direction of the window. “I should go offer a hand.”
She clears her throat, self-consciously wrapping her arms around herself. “Right.”
Turning away from her, I grab my jeans off the armchair where I left them last night. I struggle to pull them up over my tented boxer-briefs, willing my erection to calm the hell down. I head into the bathroom with my duffel bag, quickly splashing cold water on my face and brushing my teeth.
Alana busies herself, head down, sitting primly on the edge of the bed and pretending to fish around in her purse. She deliberately avoids my eyes as I step out of the cabin.
Everything is an awkward mess.
When I get outside, I’m just grateful for some greenery and some fresh air. I need to clear my head. As I trudge through the damp brush, I dig my phone out of my pocket.
On my screen, there are three more text messages from Candace.Three.The woman is persistent. I grunt.
