AllFreeNovel
Share Us
***
When Gretchen had thought she’d want to see the master of the fabulous house, she hadn’t thought that she’d see . . . well, all of him.
After exploring the north hall for a time, she turned down another section of the wing, the faint sound of piped-in rock music drawing her forward. She’d headed toward the sound . . . and stopped.
At the end of the hallway, not a hundred feet from where she was standing, a door was opening. Steam rushed out in a billowing puff, along with the source of the loud music. A man emerged, rubbing his head with a fluffy white towel to dry his hair, humming to himself. His face was hidden from her but . . . nothing else was.
And oh, mercy, he was gorgeous.
He was utterly naked, his skin gleaming with wet drops from his shower. His legs were tanned and shadowed from the wet hair clinging to them, and his legs were thick with cords of muscle. Nice, wet cords of glorious muscle. A tattoo traced across one bicep.
He was hung, too, Gretchen didn’t mind noticing. His cock lay semi-erect against his thigh, as if he’d recently pleasured himself.
Her gaze traveled upward, feeling almost lascivious at spying. But his chest was just as perfectly sculpted as the rest of him, deep grooves worn into the muscle and displaying a delicious lack of body fat. This was a man who worked out regularly and with great enthusiasm.
Much like the enthusiasm she was feeling staring at his broad shoulders and washboard abs, Gretchen thought to herself. There was something not quite right about the way one side of his body looked, as if the skin had too much shadow on it, but she was too far away to see what it was. A trick of the light, perhaps? A light dusting of chest hair covered his pectorals.
The towel fell, and she caught a glimpse of dark hair atop his head and strong, handsome features . . . and then the towel revealed his entire face.
Scarred. Broken. His mouth was pulled down on one side.
She gasped, unable to help herself. He’d been so perfectly sculpted that the sight of the ruin on his face had completely thrown her for a loop.
The man froze and turned toward her, as if seeing her for the first time. Recognition flitted across his face, and then he was wrapping the towel around his waist. “Get the fuck out of here,” he roared. One hand went in front of his face, shielding it from her gaze.
“Sorry,” Gretchen said in a high-pitched voice, taking a few cautious steps backward. “I didn’t mean to spy. I just—”
“Get out of here! Go! You’re not allowed down this hall!”
“I’m so sorry! I—”
“GO!”
Gretchen turned and ran. She didn’t stop running until she made it back to the east wing and slammed her bedroom door shut behind her. She leaned against it, breathing hard.
Holy shit.
She’d just seen the owner naked. Really naked. Hell, she’d practically ogled his nakedness and taken his measurements. And it had been some damn fine nakedness. The only thing that wasn’t perfect was his face. It was terribly scarred, but the more she thought about it, the more she was intrigued by it.
Not that she’d get a chance to find out the story behind it. Mr. Buchanan was seriously pissed that she’d seen him. She’d never seen anyone so mad. Gretchen winced,
biting a fingernail.
Was she going to be fired from this job before she’d even started it? Just because she’d been bored and curious? Shit.
***
Damn it all. That had not been how he’d wanted to meet Gretchen.
Hunter had planned it all carefully in his mind. He’d leave her some friendly notes, letting her know that he had an interest in the project he’d cultivated for her. He’d meet her in a well-shadowed room and let her have the impression that his face was not that bad. After a few chance meetings, he’d reveal to her his face and give her a chance to consider it in stronger light. Not daylight. Daylight was too harsh and unforgiving. Then, maybe when she was comfortable with his . . . disfigurements, they could move past it and be friends.
He’d not intended for her to see him. Naked. Fully exposed in more ways than one. His hands twitched, needing his pruning shears. Time in the greenhouse working on his roses always calmed him. Perhaps a few hours of tending to them would give him a chance to calm down and digest how things had already gone horribly wrong.
Hunter stared at the empty walls of his bedroom. No mirrors adorned the walls. He didn’t want to see his reflection staring back at him. Not in this personal space. His hand touched his newly shaved chin, and he thought for a moment, trying to see his face through her eyes. All he could see was one normal side of his face, and the other hideously distorted and scarred. The finger he was missing. The lacerated white lines that remained on his arm and chest.
Hunter dressed quickly and strode out of his room. Try as he might, he couldn’t get out of his mind the horrified little gasp she’d given at the sight of him. She’d seen everything. His scars had been laid open.
And she’d been revolted.
