I swallowed thickly, peeling my eyes away from the sight of sexy carbs being handled with such confident command. My mind was well and truly in the gutter. Any more of this and I’d orgasm where I sat. That pasta, and the way he handled it? I felt undeserving of that kind of sexual attention from a man like him. Dare I say the pasta made me jealous?
I wasn’t built long and lean like a model. I was easily an eight to his ten. If he’d learned about sex from books, it likely meant he’d only encountered one type of woman—the perfect kind. He deserved a supermodel; in fact, hewasa supermodel. An outdoor brand would sign him faster than you could say gra-no-la.
The stick-thin lifestyle was never for me. I was a strong, voluptuous girl, well-endowed in all the right places, and well-fed by my brooding, protective brother. I had a pretty face, I suppose, but I hadn’t worn makeup in weeks. Because of that, I felt a bit sloppy and disheveled.
My fancy clothes and luxury makeup were my armor, and I had none of it here. I was a vixen without her tools, and I didn’t know how to cope.I was a baby learning to crawl.
Gray cleared his throat, and I turned my attention back to him. His assessing gaze met mine through the steam rising from the stockpot. His brow furrowed, and he tilted his head slightly.“What are you thinking about?”
I shook my head and tried to force a smile.“Nothing.”
He narrowed his eyes.“Liar.”
I let out a sharp sigh.“I just… I miss movies, that’s all.” A perfect white lie, and more the truth than anything.
Understanding crossed his face, along with a sly grin.“Why didn’t you say so? We can totally watch a movie if you like.”
I perked up.“What?! How?”
“My computer, of course, and the internet.”
I slapped the arm of the chair.“What the fuck, Gray. You have internet?”
He laughed.“Yeah. You realize you never asked, right?”
I chuffed.“Yeah, right, like you’d let me on the internet.”
“No, I wouldn’t. Especially before, but I still could have put a movie on if you had asked. You know I have a computer because I saw you tried to break into it a few times. It notifies me when someone does that.” He winked.
I felt my cheeks blush, and I smiled sheepishly.
He shook his head.“I even have a little projector I can attach to the computer; we can shine it up on the wall opposite the bed. There’s a screen there to pull down.”
“Shut. Up. Ascreen?”I launched to my feet, sending Villy flying.“We can have… a movie night?”
He chuckled.“Sure. I just thought you were enjoying the cabin games and reading. You seemed content.”
I was going to kiss him and slap him. I swear it.
Marching around the furniture, I stalked right up to him and immediately faltered. Damn it, why did the evening light have to do that to his face? Too beautiful. Too. Damn. Beautiful. I hugged him instead, a big bear hug, my arms barely able to fit all the way around him.
“Yay!” I squealed.“Oh my god,” I exclaimed, stepping back, head now filled with ideas.“Can we do a western/forest/survival movie night, like,A River Runs Through It, orTombstone, or aYellowstonemarathon? Do we have more whiskey? Or Wine?” I blurted out, grabbing his forearm and squeezing it.
His eyes searched mine, his grin so big that even his dimples were showing through his beard.“That sounds perfect.”
“Yes!” I exclaimed, jumping up and down.
“Well, shit,” he crooned, shaking his head as he stirred the pot.“If I’d known all it took to make you happy was a movie night, I would have suggested it sooner.”
I sat at the counter, feeling excited.
He went to the back of the kitchen, opened a bottle of red wine, grabbed two glasses from the cabinet, and placed them in front of me. He poured both glasses, slid one towards me, then added some wine to the pasta sauce. Moments later he drained the pasta in the sink, sending a cloud of steam into the air. He plated some for each of us and topped it with sauce before handing it to me.
We moved to the bed, and I fluffed up my pillow. Gray set his plate on the side table, grabbed his computer from the desk, and a small device from a shelf. On the wall opposite the bed, he lowered a screen from a black bar attached to the ceiling, which I hadn’t realized was a screen, and placed the projector on the edge of the bed frame at our feet.
He crawled onto the mattress next to me, plugged a cord into the side of the laptop, and the projector flickered to life. He opened the screen, and I watched him type his password.
I couldn’t help trying to peek at what it was, but he typed it so quickly that I didn’t catch a single character. It didn’t matter, though. I wasn’t trying to escape him anymore, not since I’d learned the truth.
