But he’d never seen anything quite as distracting as the soft curve of Zee’s bare shoulder with that thin strap drooping against her skin.
In a moment of blind insanity, he’d almost crossed the room to her.
He dipped into another pushup, muscles locked.
Hell. He could still feel the phantom urge in his hand to hook a finger under that strap and draw it back up where it belonged.
Or maybe down.
She was half his age. Or almost.
She was the widow of a man who never should have lost his life. Not in that fight.
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath.
He pushed himself off the floor and rolled into sit-ups instead, his core tightening as he drove through each motion. The exercise should have helped burn off the restless energy surging through him.
It didn’t.
To make things worse, his body had already decidedexactlywhere the tension wanted to go.
His cock was hard, and nothing could save him from thinking about the tormenting little tank top strap again. Just then, he heard the creak of bedsprings, signaling Zee was officially up.
As if summoned by his thoughts, the bedroom door opened. He refused to look up at Zee as she crossed the small hall to the bathroom. The door clicked shut.
He braced himself for what would come next. He still wasn’t prepared.
A second later the pipes rattled softly and the sound of water filled the small suite.
“Jesus,” he pushed out on a breath, squeezing his eyes shut as he moved through the sit-ups.
It didn’t help a thing, because it wasn’t fucking easy to do sit-ups with a raging erection.
To make things worse, his very helpful brain supplied new images.
Zee standing naked under the spray.
Water sliding down her shoulders.
What the hell was wrong with him? Shoulders weren’t even considered sexy body parts. The men he knew were tit guys or ass guys. Nobody was a shoulders guy.
Except him, apparently.
“Christ,” he bit off.
He dropped back onto the floor and stared up at the ceiling for several excruciating throbs of his cock before shoving to his feet.
He grabbed a bottle of water and twisted off the cap, taking a long slug before he moved to the window.
The suite was built over the barn, but it wasn’t hay and rafters—it was airy and light, and when the Malones offered it to him, he accepted with gratitude.
The view from the window included fences along the pasture and the mountains slicing the sky behind them. He didn’t quite know what it was about the mountains that provided so much peace to so many—the Malone family who owned the property, the veterans and all the workers in the therapy lodge. Now Zee.
The suite was only made up of a small bedroom, bathroom, a short counter with a mini fridge underneath it and a microwave for heating up late-night snacks, and enough room for a couch and a coffee table.
The space didn’t feel small, though, because the view made the person looking at it feel like they were part of the scenery.
The bathroom door opened behind him, and he felt his muscles slowly harden—and one muscle in particular was already rock-hard.
