What he was, though, was trying to keep his employees paid. For a man I very much don’t respect, I’ve struggled with the fact I respect him for that.
Lilah’s eyes shift from the view of the mountain house set in stained timber and stone to the hat I slide off my head to notch on a hook. Her eyes drop again when I kick off my boots before sliding back up the length of me. I swear, I feel the glide of that buttery brown gaze as it moves over every inch of me.
She pulls in breath that swells her breasts. “So, this is home sweet home?”
“Don’t know if I’d call it sweet, but it is home.” I move by her into the house, catching a whiff of the intoxicating blend that is naturally her. Spiced vanilla and citrus with a bitter hint of pinched flower stems. It’s fucking addictive.
I glance over my shoulder to see her sliding pretty little feet with brightly pink painted toes out of her sandals. She’s wearing a chain around her ankle that gives her sun-kissed skin a glow that makes my throat dry.
The woman is effortlessly beautiful.
The more I look at her, the more irresistible her pull.
I throw out, “Come in. Look around. Soon, this’ll be home.” She makes a noise that calls my gaze. I instantly clock the look of fear she tries to hide. I offer, “Want a drink?”
“Water, please.”
I raise a brow. “No wine?”
She shakes her head. “Not right now.”
“Afraid you’ll forget you don’t want to sleep with me?” I taunt. I have to admit, after all the times this woman has pushed the boundaries of my own comfort, I’m enjoying this moment of pushing hers.
Fire lights the depths of her eyes. “Don’t get your hopes up.”
I bark a laugh that surprises us both. I mutter, “There she is.”
Her brows pull together for a moment. Her lipspart and I think she’s going to say something else, but she presses them together again. Her eyes shift from me to the house.
It’s big and masculine with dark woods, leathers, and stone. Everything is of quality. The entrance, grand enough for a black iron chandelier I’ve never once bothered to turn on, peers into an open living room with a sprawling sectional and television mounted to a dark painted wall. In the center of the space, between kitchen and living room, is a stone divide one can move through the rooms on either side. In the stone divide is a large wood burning fireplace. It stretches all the way to the vaulted ceiling of painted drywall and timber beams.
Allowing southern sun to spill into the spaces is a massive four pane sliding glass door that steps out onto a sprawling covered deck with another sectional, fireplace, and outdoor kitchen.
The kitchen is another beast entirely. Again, it’s darker with richly stained wood cabinets and black granite. The appliances are all gleaming stainless steel and look as though they were never once used.
She breathes. “This is insane.”
“Insane good or insane bad?”
Her eyes shift to mine. It’s like being slammed with a hammer to the chest. I don’t get it.
Nibbling her lip, she muses, “I don’t know.”
I start for the kitchen. She follows me. “You don’t know?”
“It’s nice, but it’s quite dark.”
“It is.”
“Is it your style?”Shit, she’s cute when she scrunches her nose like that.
I pull a bottle of water from the fridge, handing it to her. “I like comfort. This is comfortable.”
Her eyes do a sweep of the kitchen before she twists to look back at the living room. She tells me without looking at me, “That couch does look plush. I’d have an entireOne Tree Hillmarathon on that thing.”
I give her a blank stare.
“What? No movie marathons for you or are you telling me you don’t know whatOne Tree Hillis?”
