“Are you seriously tellin’ me you were out there in that snow for that long before calling for help?” A muscle on the right side of his jaw twitches. My fingers ache to touch it. Soothe it. “What is wrong with you?” Irritation drips from his voice.
“I thought I could get it out, but…” I shrug and look away for a moment. I know why he’s frustrated. I should have known better.
“But what?” he presses, forcing me to look back up at him. I have and eery suspicion he never looked away. Owen Woodman is scary smart and way too observant.
“The tire was flat,” I admit and watch as he tips his head up toward the ceiling and closes his eyes. Like he’s trying to find patience. I’ve seen that look on his brother a time or two thousand over the years.
“You need a new car,” he grunts, and I press my lips together.
“Maybe,” I mutter, not giving away I’d rather die than give up my sweet ride. I know the old sedan is nothing fancy or anything special to write home about, but it’s mine. Paid off in full and a reminder of how far I’ve come.
Alone.
I need to remember that and to somehow manage keeping my wits around Owen and all his broody, quiet sexiness. He makes me want things that are definitely not in store for me.
I am not the woman who gets a happily ever after. I will be the fun, sassy, outrageous aunt to my best friend and his beautiful soon-to-be-bride’s future kids.
“Anyhow, thank you for saving me,” I tell him with a forced smile. Unsure of what to do next, I find myself rambling. “I’ll get a ride back to town in a couple of hours.”
“I highly doubt that,” he mutters under his breath. But before I can ask him what he means, his attention is on the shower. The walls in there are made of natural stone. I smile at the sight.
“It’s like a cave indoors,” I note, and he grunts. The more I look at it, the more familiar the shower feels.
It’s exactly like the image I saved on my Dream Home Pinterest board. He turns the shower on. I had been wrong. He doesn’t have three rainfall showerheads. He has four. The room quickly starts to fill with steam, and once he checks the water with his hand, he pulls it out and looks at me. I open my mouth but shut it when he crooks his finger at me.
“Come here, baby.” The tremble that washes over me, covering my skin with gooseflesh, has nothing to do with the slight chill in the air. But without a thought, my feet make their way toward him, following his instructions until I stop right in front of him.
“We need to warm you up,” he shares as his hands slowly move to my hips and stroke the hem of my thin cotton long-sleeved shirt. It’s not lost on me that there was that sweet littlebabyagain. Ithas my head spinning faster than two margaritas at the brewery. Not to mention it has my heart turning inside out on itself.
I want to point it out.
Ask him about what it means. Dying to actually. But as brave as my best friend, Eli, thinks I am, when it comes to Owen, I’m a lily-liveried chicken.
His hands start to lift the material of my tee. I shiver, and he immediately stops.
“You’re still cold,” he notes in a deep tone that warms me up from the inside out. His dark eyes are almost smoldering as he stares at me. But the way he’s watching me has me feeling so much.It’s just your imagination, a little cynical voice perks up.
“Just a little.” I exhale as I try to catch my breath. He nods. His chocolatey eyes turn molten, a smolder worthy of a forest fire shining behind them.
If I was nervous before, I’m more so now. He pulls my shirt up and over my head slowly. So slowly, I know I can stop him at any moment should I want to. I have no doubt he wouldn’t push for anything else. He would give me space. He’d nod and leave, closing the bathroom door behind him.
But I don’t want him to.
I want him to see me. Maybe entice him to see me as more than his brother’s silly friend. And hopefully see me as a woman. One he might want to take for a night. Before I can exhale, my shirt is off and is falling at our feet. The way my heart is racing, I am almost positive it’s about to jump out of my chest and join my shirt on the floor.
Thankfully, he’s more confident about where this is going, because he pulls me flush against him. I look up at him. His intense gaze should frighten me. Owen has always been the broody, grouchy one. More than Reed. But fear is the last thing I feel as our bodies touch.
Flesh to flesh.
He’s warm and hard all over. When his arms wrap around me , the tips of his fingers stroke the small of my back as he takes in a jagged breath.
“Tell me to get out, princess,” he rasps, and somehow, I know that is the last thing he wants me to do. I’m not sure; it may have to do with the hard length bumping against my belly or just sheer instinct.
“Princess?” I repeat, unable to stop myself.
“Baby—" My hands move between us, and the pads of my fingers touch his beautiful lips.
I’m playing with fire, and despite the snow outside, I have a feeling I know one way or another, I’ll be the one to get burned. But I don’t care. Maybe if I take this chance, this one moment with him, I can finally get over and through this crush of mine.
