Natalie stopped in the doorway, her gaze locking on him.His hair was damp, curling slightly at the ends, evidence of a recent shower.He wore soft, worn jeans that rode low on his hips, and the black T-shirt clung to broad shoulders and biceps that flexed as he stirred.She’d lived with him for nearly three days now.She knew what was under that shirt—every carved line of muscle, every inch of heat.
Her breath caught, a flutter building in her chest as her mind whispered dangerous possibilities about what might happen if she closed the space between them.
“I feel better,” she managed, her voice softer than intended, betraying more than she wanted him to hear.“Pretty good, actually.”
He turned toward her, leaning one hip against the counter, his arms crossing loosely as his gaze swept over her.“Better isn’t good enough,” he murmured, his dark eyes scanning her face before dropping to her arm—the one she’d instinctively tucked behind her back.“Are you in any pain?”
“Not really,” she said quickly, shaking her head in a little too fast a denial.“I promise, it’s manageable.I’m fine.”
One eyebrow lifted in quiet skepticism.“You’re a terrible liar, Natalie.”
Despite herself, she smiled.“Okay, it still hurts a little, but nothing I can’t handle.”She gestured toward the biscuits cooling on the stove.“What’s on the menu today, chef?”
He let her redirect, but his gaze didn’t soften.“Biscuits, shrimp and grits, and roasted vegetables.Figured I’d try something a little heartier today.”
“Heartier?”she teased, tilting her head.“I think you’re trying to feed me into a food coma.”
His lips curved into a smirk, but the seriousness behind it made her chest ache.“I want to make sure you’re taken care of.”
Her heart clenched hard enough to make her glance away.Rylan was impossible to resist—too much heat wrapped in too much care.Shewantedto demand answers about the accident, about why the police only seemed to talk to him and Tom, but the words lodged in her throat.Some part of her feared that pushing too hard would crack the fragile rhythm they’d fallen into.
But wasn’t she done holding back?
She straightened her shoulders, lifting her chin.What she meant to say was, “Rylan, we need to talk.”However, what came out instead was, “We need to have sex!”
Rylan went still, his head snapping toward her.For a moment, neither of them breathed.
From the corner of her eye, she caught movement—Tom stepping into the kitchen—only to grimace, mutter something under his breath, and pivot on his heel, retreating without a word.
Natalie’s palms pressed together, fingers twisting.When they brushed the tender skin of her bruised wrist, she winced.The tiny flinch was all it took to jolt Rylan out of his frozen state.
In two strides, he’d turned off the stove and rounded the island, stopping close enough that the warmth of his body wrapped around her like an unspoken challenge.
“Unless you don’t feel that way about me,” she blurted, panic making her voice softer, shakier.“If you’re serious about just being friends, then we can continue.Because you are a—”
His mouth claimed hers before she could finish, and it was nothing like a friendly kiss.No, this was a fierce, consuming collision—heat and tongue and need.The kind of kiss that stole her balance and her breath, leaving her clutching at him to stay upright.
The only part of her he touched was her mouth, but it was enough to melt her from the inside out.Carefully, she slid her arms around his neck, avoiding her injured arm, anchoring herself to him.
When he broke away, his eyes—dark and intense—locked on hers.“You haven’t recovered enough,” he rasped, voice gone rough, like gravel scraping over velvet.
“I’m fine,” she countered, her breath still uneven.“As long as you don’t hit my arm.”
He kissed her again, this time cradling her face in his hands, the pressure both protective and possessive.It was softer now, more coaxing than demanding, but no less potent.His mouth teased, his teeth grazed, his lips moved over hers with deliberate care, as if tasting something rare and precious.
She whimpered at the slow burn, inching closer until their bodies touched, needing that connection like air.One of his hands slid into her hair, tilting her head back so his lips could trail down her neck.He kissed, nipped, and lingered at the spot where her pulse raced, drawing another soft moan from her throat.
“Rylan, please,” she breathed, her voice a low plea.“Will you please take me to bed?”
“You know I want you desperately, Natalie, but you haven’t healed enough.”He breathed in, then out.“Not yet.”
Natalie glared at his back as Rylan walked over to the stove again.She watched, amused as he tried to figure out what he was looking at.
Deciding that she wasn’t going to play nice about the rejection, she turned and headed towards the stairs.“Well, if you won’t help me, then I guess I’ll just have to do this on my own.”
She heard a muttered curse followed by a sharp movement.She barely had time to brace herself before she felt Rylan’s arms scoop her up.He was careful to grab her so that her non-bruised side was against his chest and Natalie wrapped her arm around his neck.
“You don’t play fair,” Rylan muttered as he carried her up the stairs.
