“So far, I have some choice words for her about the woodstove and the instructions she gave for it.”
He laughs under his breath. “I have some choice words for her about keeping it a secret that her friend with the perfect ass was going to be on my property. Alone. So close to my house.”
Blood pounds loudly behind my eardrums as Lucas runs his hands down my bare arms, stopping to rub his thumb over the inside of my wrist.
“What’s got your pulse racing, Eira?” He smirks down at me, the warmth and closeness of his body igniting a spark between my thighs.
“Just dreading how much work it’ll be to put all those clothes back on.”
“You don’t need to worry about that since you’re not going back outside tonight.”
“I’m not?” I whisper.
“No. You can have my bed, and I’ll crash on the couch. I’ll get a fire lit in the cabin before I head to work in the morning.”
Oh, God. I really am a major pain in the neck. This is the furthest thing from not bothering him I can get. “Just tell me how to get the fire going, and I’ll be out of here. I can’t sleep in your bed, Lucas.”
He shrugs. “You have before.”
“That was different. You invited me there, and we…”
We didn’t sleep much.
“I’m inviting you now. The only way I’m going to get any sleep tonight is if I know you’re safe and warm.” His hand grazes my shoulder as he reaches to turn out the only light—leaving me breathless and yearning in the dark. “And I really need sleep.Pleasego upstairs and make yourself at home.”
My eyes flicker toward the steep stairs. “I don’t want to intrude.”
“Get upstairs, Eira.” With a sudden sternness, Lucas stares me down. His hands find the curve of my hips, settling in and guiding me toward the staircase. “Go on. Get to bed.”
“Get inside, Eira,” he said with a husky growl as we stood in the open doorway of his hotel room.
He gripped my hips with intent, and a needy whimper burst from my chest at the same moment he pressed me into the backside of the door.
I clawed at his shirt, taking hold of the thin fabric as he peppered my neck and jaw with bourbon-soaked kisses. My hips rocked into his, desperate and not giving a fuck if he knew it, forcing the slow hitch of my dress until the damp part of my panties rode against the bulge in his trousers. And still, it wasn’t enough.
When my dress finally hit the floor, Lucas took a step back and cursed. Low and growly. All the playfulness of the evening was gone—replaced with pure, blown-out lust in his deep-set eyes.
“Fucking hell, Eira,” he muttered under his breath when my fingers wrapped around his wrist, guiding his touch to the place I needed it most.
Together we watched his hand slip below the lace of my underwear, and he captured my moan in a deep kiss.
Lucas clears his throat, breaking the spell, and I’m suddenly aware of the shortness in my breath.
“I’ll be gone to work when you wake up, but I’ll have your wood stove going. Or feel free to hang out here.”
“Okay, uh… thank you.” I start toward the stairs, leaving with one last glance over my shoulder. Wondering if he wants to follow me up to bed as badly as I want him to.
But I can’t find it in me to ask. To tell him how often I think about that night, or how it meant more to me than it probably should.
His room’s warm and smells like the cologne he wore to the party. I fit myself into the slight dip in his mattress where he must normally sleep, tucking my knees to my chest and burying my face in his pillows.
The house is quiet, Lucas’s bed blanketed in early morning sun, and I sit up with a yawn. The floor’s chilly when I pad across the room to his dresser. Even though he said he wouldn’t be home, I’m tiptoeing around as if I’ll disturb someone. Without second thought, I grab his cologne and spritz a small amount on my wrist. Much like what I saw of his house last night, his room’s clean and minimalistic. One photo of his family rests in a tiny frame on top of his dresser, but otherwise there’s nothing to sneak a peek at unless I snoop through drawers. And I feel plenty intrusive as it is, so I neatly make the bed and head downstairs to grab my things.
Which is where I find an orange sticky note on the door. One word: Dinner?
Dinner.
Does he want to go out for dinner? Does he want me to make him dinner? I need more context here.
