His scent reached her then, clean and stripped down.His hand found the valve, and two fingers turned it.The water cut off.Sound dropped away with it.In the sudden quiet, every breath she took came sharp and uneven.
Water tracked down his body in thin lines, gathering across planes she had no business studying.He stood there unbothered.
Something twisted low in her belly.Her nails pressed into her palm.She dragged her focus upward, fixed it on his collarbones, and told herself she was cataloging errors in anatomy.
Titus bent forward and shook his head, sending water outward in a quick arc.The motion caused a sharp reaction in her body.He straightened again.Sunlight found him through the gaps in the siding, and her gaze slipped where it should not go before snapping back.
Move.
Nothing happened.Her body stayed locked, caught between embarrassment and defiance.He did not step closer, but he did not step away either.He stayed where he was, watching her.
The nearness pressed in on her.It was not something offered, but something claimed.She lifted her chin and fixed her attention on the bridge of his nose, refusing to look lower.
“Enjoy the view?”
His voice sounded rough with sleep and edged with quiet amusement.Her teeth met hard.A response rose, sharp and unfiltered, but she bit it back.Control defined her, yet it slipped further with every second he stood there.He dragged a hand over his face, pushed water back through his hair, and let his arms fall to his sides.The motion carried a steadiness she did not share.
Her heart beat hard.This was not what she wanted.She wanted routine and distance, not her body reacting in ways she did not trust.She turned sideways, the intent clear in the line of her shoulders.Her eyes flicked up one last time.He was already looking at her.
“Morning, Chef.”
The words knocked her off balance.She spun around, and the door slammed along its track.Sunlight hit her full in the face.
She ran.
Gravel shifted under her shoes as she broke into the yard.Each inhale felt like it scraped her lungs.The light outside struck hard, too bright after the barn, and it washed everything into sharp edges.Heat spread across her face and forearms.She pushed forward, chasing distance and air that did not carry his scent.
The tote slammed against her thigh with every stride.Her pulse refused to settle, beating high and erratic.No matter how fast she moved, the image stayed fixed in her mind.Her foot slid on loose stone, and her ankle twisted as her balance gave way.She pitched forward, her arms swinging wide to catch herself.
A streak of gray cut across her path.Roscoe shot past her knee, his nails scratching against concrete before he hit the dirt.He barked once and then looped back toward her.He planted himself directly in front of her.
She stumbled, nearly going down as she tried to avoid him, but he held his ground.He shifted with her when she attempted to step around.Every move she made, he countered, angling his body to block her path.
“Not now,” she said, but the words came out thin.
She tried again, stepping to the side with more force, but he moved with her.His shoulder pressed into her shin.His tongue hung loose to one side, and his breathing remained steady.
Her chest rose and fell in sharp pulls, but the edge of panic began to dull.Irritation took its place, cutting through the spiral her thoughts had formed.She forced a slow breath through her nose, her shoulders still tight but no longer locked.
Behind her, the barn door stood open and unchanged.No footsteps followed, and no voice called after her.Only the wide stretch of sky remained.Roscoe shifted his weight and then sat beside her with calm certainty.She stopped trying to move past him.
“I’m not yours,” she muttered.
He ignored her.Instead, he eased down into the grass and rolled onto his side, pressing the length of his back against her shoe.The contact held her in place.
Her knees bent, and she crouched.Her hand found his fur and gripped the thick coat.The texture grounded her.Her breathing slowed, each inhale reaching deeper.
The barn remained behind her, unseen but present.Something lingered at the back of her throat, mineral and sharp.She swallowed twice, but it held fast.Roscoe nudged her calf with his nose and then rested his head near her ankle.A low rumble left him, enough to reinforce his presence.
A quiet sound escaped her that might have been a laugh.It was directed at herself.She straightened slowly, her legs still unsteady, and risked a glance over her shoulder.The barn stood open, empty of movement.No figure filled the doorway.
Roscoe remained pressed against her leg.She turned away.The porch steps met her before she fully registered crossing the yard.By the time she reached the top, her knees gave way.She dropped onto the step and braced her elbows against her thighs.
The taste remained.Metallic.Persistent.Unwelcome.
She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, but nothing changed.The sensation clung to her.Her lungs pulled in air more steadily now, though her body still carried the aftermath of the encounter.
The world around her came into focus in pieces.Dew clung to the grass, and the wood beneath her palm scraped against her skin.A bird called somewhere beyond the fence line.
