Page 9 of Own Me, Outlaw
I stand there a moment longer, fists clenched, heart pounding like I just walked into a war zone instead of my own kitchen.
"Goodnight, Lark."
"Night, Outlaw," she says softly.
And then I lock myself in the bedroom like a coward.
Because if I stay out there one more second, I will touch her again.
And this time, I won't stop.
Chapter 6
Lark
Iwakeuptangledin blankets and frustration.
The guest room is warm and cozy, all pine walls and soft quilts, but it's completely devoid of the man I spent all night dreaming about. Dreams that left me aching and restless and more confused than ever.
Outlaw.
Logan.
Whatever he’s called.
Both names make my pulse quicken in ways that probably aren't healthy for a woman who's supposed to be on a therapeutic getaway.
He told me to stay away.
But then he kissed me like he never wanted me to leave.
I throw on my sweatshirt and wander into the main room, bare feet silent on the cool hardwood. The fire's burned down to embers, the rain has finally stopped, and morning light filters through the windows, painting everything in shades of gold and amber.
The silence is thick, expectant.
Then I see him.
He's standing out on the front porch, backlit by the pale morning sun, shirtless and chopping wood like a damn scene fromOutlander.
Guess he lied about not owning an axe.
The axe rises and falls in a steady rhythm, and I can see the play of muscles across his back, the way his shoulders flex with each swing.
The clench of his abs when he bends to stack the split logs.
The way his jeans ride low on his hips, revealing the V of muscle that disappears beneath denim.
Jesus Christ…
I want to bite him.
And maybe cry a little.
Because he's beautiful in a way that makes my chest ache, and I'm leaving today whether I want to or not.
I open the door, and the creak makes him pause mid-swing. He glances back over his shoulder, ice-blue eyes finding mine, and I see something flash across his face before he can hide it.
Desire.
