I just want him to go away. To leave me alone. To at least give me this.
But no such luck.
He wades through the water, his darkened form brushing against my arm as he moves around me, positioning himself directly in my line of sight so I’ve no choice but to look at him.
A flicker of warmth enters my chest as I stare into sultry brown eyes that are so deep they’re almost black. The glow from the moon casts a shadow around his form, highlighting his masculine beauty in all its glory. He’s wearing low-hanging cotton shorts and nothing else. His bare chest is an impressive work of art that speaks to incredible dedication in the gym. His cut abs are so sharp they look painted on. But it’s the tattoos on his chest and lower arms that grab my attention. None of the guys at Rydeville High would dare ink their skin. It wouldn’t fit the reputations they’ve so carefully cultivated or suit their obnoxious parents’ plans for their futures. The elite wouldn’t dream of lowering themselves to something so provincial.
This guy is an enigma, and the first sparks of curiosity ignite inside me.
My eyes trail up his delectable torso, refocusing on his face. He’s watching me carefully. Absorbing my gaze like he wants to bury deep inside me and figure me out. My fingers itch to run along the fine layer of scruff adorning his chin and jawline. To mess up his hair which is styled long on top and shorn close to his skull on both sides. A craving to explore his chiseled cheekbones, and to taste his full lips, hits me out of nowhere, reminding me I’m still very much alive.
I can’t ever recall having such a strong, physical reaction to a guy upon sight. None of the guys back home have affected me so potently, except for Trent—he makes my skin crawl with the barest of looks—but this is the complete opposite.
One glance from this stranger heats my blood and stirs desire low in my belly. I cock my head to the side, intrigued and aroused, my previous self-destructive mission all but forgotten.
We don’t speak. We just stare at one another and an electrical current charges the small space between us. My body emerges from its semi-comatose state, and I’m equally hot and cold. A shiver works its way through me, and I wrap my arms around my slim frame, desperately trying to ward off the biting cold air clawing at my pale skin.
“You need to get warm.” The stranger extends his hand. “Come with me.”
I wrap my hand around his without hesitation, and we tread through the water back toward the shore. His callused palm is firm against my skin, sending a flurry of fiery tingles coasting up and down my arm. We don’t speak as we emerge from the sea, walking across the clammy sand toward a small wooden cabin in the near distance. I hadn’t noticed it when I first arrived because I had singular focus.
A thin stream of smoke creeps out of a narrow chimney, and I watch the cloudy spirals with fascination as we walk hand in hand toward the neat wooden structure. In the distance, a sprawling mansion occupies prime real estate, the property submerged in darkness at this late hour.
He pushes open the door, stepping aside to allow me to enter first. A blast of heat slaps me in the face from the roaring open fire, and my body relaxes for the first time in days. The cabin is small but cozy and welcoming. The main room contains a compact kitchen with a stove, sink, and a long counter with three stools. On the right is a three-seater couch positioned in front of a coffee table and a wall-mounted TV over the fireplace. A side room suggests a bedroom with en suite bathroom, and that’s the extent of the space.
My bedroom is bigger than this entire cabin, but it isn’t half as inviting.
A bright rug resting atop the varnished hardwood floor, the soft colorful throw on the couch, and an abundance of vibrant cushions injects a comfortable, lived-in feel. The old bookcase tucked into the corner between the wall and the door is crammed full of books, DVDs, and mementos, creating a homey atmosphere. The only light is from the flickering flames of the fire and an old-fashioned lamp on top of the coffee table.
He shuts the door and steers me in front of the fire. On autopilot, I raise my palms, relishing the heat as it wraps around my chilly skin. He moves around behind me, but I don’t turn to look. I stand in front of the fire, allowing it to thaw my frozen limbs and fracture the layer of ice surrounding my heart.
“Sit down,” he commands in that rugged voice of his, draping a blanket around my upper body.
I sink to the ground without a word, tucking my knees into my chest as I peer at him. He drops down in front of me, gently uncurling my legs, drawing one into his lap as he dries my damp skin with a soft blue towel. We stare at one another as he dries both my feet and legs, and that same pull from before pulses between us, rendering some invisible connection.