Page 13 of Wild River

Jake’s low voice behind me makes me jump, water sloshing over the counter to splatter my front. How does such a large man move so quietly? He’s like a panther.

“I told you, I’m fi—”

A hard chest brushes against my back, stealing the words from my tongue. Two strong arms snake around me, plucking the bowl and sponge from my hands, and then Jake’s washing the dishes with me tucked against his front.

“Don’t be stubborn,” he says.

See,thisis why I’ve been twisted in little turned-on knots for hours. Does Jake have any idea of the effect he has on me? How his proximity melts my brain?

Or maybe he does. Maybe he’s doing this on purpose.

Maybe this is psychological warfare, baby. Well, two can play at that game.

“You missed a bit,” I murmur, nodding at the bowl. A warm huff of amusement tickles the top of my head, then Jake scrubs the spot in question. Biting my lip, I hold my breath… then reach up and place my hands on his forearms.

Jake jerks, but keeps washing up. There are no words exchanged, but his heartbeatboom boom boomsagainst my back.

Meanwhile, I stroke my way slowly over heated bare skin, feeling the muscles and tendons and bones of his forearms. The softness of his dark body hair, and the pale ridged lines of old scars. The extra-soft patch of skin on his inner elbows, and the knobby bit of bone around the other side. Every part of his body is so much bigger, so much more solid than mine.

Behind me, Jake blows out a long breath then presses closer, caging me against the sink. I’m trapped, but I don’t mind. For once in my life, I don’t want to escape.

I’m exactly where I want to be.

The water sloshes and dishes clink together, and the air smells like lemon dish soap andhim.This mountain man with his sturdy arms wrapped around me.

A bird flits past the kitchen window, and my breaths tremble as they drag in and out of my lungs.

“You had a rough day.” Jake sounds strained—like he’s lecturing himself as much as he’s reminding me, even as my hands stroke greedily up his arms. “We shouldn’t do anything you might regret.”

No fear.

“I won’t regret it.” My body presses back against his, feeling every dip and hard plane of his muscles. The knobs of his hip bones, and below, the rigid line of his cock. The second itbrushes my lower back, my heart speeds up and my lower belly twists with need.

Jake hisses between his teeth.

“You were supposed to get married this morning.”

I scoff, irrationally annoyed that he’s bringing that up when his shaft is wedged against my spine. He tore the wedding dress from my body himself, ripping the silk like tissue paper.

“Yeah, and that’s why I ran. That’s why I jumped in the river, risking my life to get away.”

A shudder rolls through the mountain man behind me. My ass presses back, grinding against his lap, because yeah, he wants me. And I want him.

And Tristan freaking Peters is not gonna ruin this for us. Nuh-uh. No way.

That was no real wedding, and he was not a real groom. Butthismoment, with our soapy hands and heavy breaths and overheated bodies… this is one hundred percent real.

“Do you want this, Jake?”

I already know the answer, but I need to hear it out loud. Need to hear that someone in this world wants me forme,and not for my family name.

“Obviously.”

He sounds pissed, but I grin and snatch up the dish towel.

“Then let me help things along.”

I tug his right hand from the water, and scrub it completely dry, working the towel between each finger and down his wrist. His bearded jaw rubs against my temple as he watches, bemused.

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