He’s still asleep, the top sheet draped over him doing nothing to hide the sculpted strength of his relaxed muscles. Heat pools in my core, and I let out a soft breath. God, he’s magnificent.
“What the hell are you doing out of bed?” he asks with a smile, opening his eyes. “I can’t make love to you when you’re over there, can I?”
A happy little flutter takes up residence in my stomach. Curling my lips in a grin, I lift an eyebrow. “I don’t know. How fast can you move?”
He lunges from the bed in a blur, and I let out a squealing giggle and turn to flee.
He catches me before I’ve even taken a step, throwing me over his shoulder and spanking my butt. “You need to understand,” he says as he deposits me on the bed and stands between my knees, “my woman doesn’t get out of bed in the morning until I’ve made her come at least once.”
My sex throbs. My nipples bead. “Your woman?”
With a growl, he covers my body with his, his rigid cock finding my entry with fluid ease.
His nostrils flare as he studies me, his lips close to mine. “My woman,” he states before sinking into me in one slow thrust.
He makes me come twice, playing my body like a maestro. I claw at his back and cry out his name, and when he empties his seed into me, I know I’m lost to him forever. Regardless of what he feels for me, regardless of what this is, I’ve fallen in love with him.
We shower together—two more orgasms, thank you very much—and then, when Jake gets a call from someone called Gibbo, I strut into the kitchen to make us coffee. Naked! Since when do I ever strut? Naked?
Popping a pod into the machine, I lean my hip against the counter and gaze out the window at the beauty of the mountains beyond. It’s so peaceful, calm, and serene, so different from the madness of Sydney city life. Could I live like this? Forever?
With Jake? Hell yeah.
Solid footsteps draw my attention from the window, and I frown as he strides into the kitchen. He’s dressed in no-nonsense utility pants, a button-up shirt withHartley Ridge Fire Brigadeprinted on the left, and work boots.
“Coffee’s almost ready,” I say, even as a knot twists in my stomach. There’s a tension to him now, like an animal wary of a stranger. “Everything okay?”
He stops on the other side of the kitchen counter and places a large chambray shirt on it. “For the one I ripped,” he says, his voice low.
I blink. “Is something… What’s going on?”
He shakes his head, jaw bunching under the stubble that only a few moments ago tickled the inside of my thighs. “I just remembered I’ve got stuff to do.”
The knot in my stomach tightens and sends threads of icy confusion up into my chest. “Um, okay. I’ll...just go then?”
He flicks me a look, and for a moment—one aching heartbeat—a softness falls over his face, and then his jaw bunches again, and he nods. “Sure. I can run you into the Ridge if you want.”
Snatching up the shirt from the counter, I shake my head. “No. I can walk.”
He opens his mouth, but I hurry out of the kitchen and to the bedroom, shoving my arms into the shirt as I go.
I want to throw up. I want to scream into a pillow. I want to cry. I don’t know what’s going on, but I should have known better. This is what men do. Get what they want and then fuck off. Just like Dad did.
After yanking on my panties, shorts, and bra, I look around for my hiking boots and phone. My phone was in my pocket when I was chasing the dragonfly. I hope it didn’t fall out in the bush. The sooner I’m away from Jake, the–
“Are you looking for this?”
I spin around at his low voice behind me.
He’s at the door, my phone in his hand.
Scowling, I walk over and take it from him. “What the hell is going on?”
His stare locks with mine. “Your phone was constantly pinging while you were making coffee. Incoming messages. One after the other. I thought someone might be worried about you, given you—” he clears his throat “—stayed here last night without telling anyone. But instead, I saw a shit ton of Instagram notifications.”
I frown. “And?”
He snorts. “I looked up your profile when I saw them. You’re an influencer. With thousands of followers.”
