Page 8 of Forbidden Ride
I’ll probably never see him again.
It’s been such a long time since I’ve been alone with a man that I’m jumping to all kinds of conclusions.
I give myself one final look in the mirror, drain the water from the tub, and tidy up. Then I take a deep breath and head down the hall.
My heart flips the second I see him. He’s in the kitchen area with his back turned to me, stirring something on the stove. William seems so focused on his task. I don’t want to sneak up on him. I clear my throat and he turns, spinning toward me on a dime. And there are those baby blues again.
“Did you enjoy your bath?” Damn, there go the dimples.
I’m outnumbered here. Between those dimples and his eyes, I don’t have a chance. In a blink, my body temperature ratchets up, and my nipples harden against the sweatshirt.
“I did, thank you.” My voice betrays me with a squeak. “I, uh...” I turn away, breaking from his stare before I dissolve into a puddle. “I drained the tub, but the fire’s still going in there.”
“The fire’s fine on its own. I’m a contractor and I built it, so it should be.” He chuckles and turns back to the stove. “Have a seat. There’s wine on the table. Hope you like minestrone.”
“I love it. I make it all the time in the winter.” My stomach rumbles, and I realize I haven’t eaten a real meal since breakfast. I slide into the nearest chair at the charming table he’s laid out.
There aren’t any flowers, but he has a few votives lit. Who is this guy? Mama must’ve taught him well. What a package... and there I go again. I’m not supposed to be thinking about his package. What is wrong with me?
“Pretty table.” I breathe deeply, hoping he doesn’t catch on to the fact that I’m acting like an idiot here. “Candles, even,” I say in such a high-pitched girly voice I don’t even recognize myself.
“Yeah. Power’s out. I lit them before I turned on the generator.” He points to the burner. “And the stove is gas.”
“Right.” Of course he wasn’t trying to make this a romantic dinner.Slow your roll. You’ve been reading and listening to too many romance novels.
William places a mouthwatering bowl of soup in front of me and goes back to the stove for his. I’m trying to remember to breathe when he moves a chair so he can sit directly across from me. Now there’s no way I can avoid those lethally sexy eyes even if I wanted to.
The first taste of the minestrone goes down like some sort of veggie liquid heaven. I keep my slurps as ladylike as possible even though I’m starving. The only other sounds are the crackles and spits of the fire, and the snow and wind pounding the roof.
“This is delicious,” I say, trying to fill the quiet.
“Glad you like it.” Mr. Adonis zeros in on me. “How are you feeling?”
Like I want to jump your bones. What do you say you give this old lady a ride?“Better. The bath was... a good idea. Really hit the spot.” I feel my cheeks flush with the memory of masturbating in his tub. “The warm clothes too. Good idea.” Wonderful, I’m speaking in fragments now. I sound like a Neanderthal.
We fill the time with a little chit-chat, and I start to relax. He asks me about my job and tells me about his. Apparently he’s doing pretty well, because he can pick and choose the kind of projects he works on. He also briefly mentioned he was in the army, so that explains the whole hero vibe he’s rocking.
I don’t know if it was our chat, his dreamy bathtub, or his cooking that sealed the deal, but I’m not worried about William being a psycho ax murderer anymore. Besides, if he wanted to lock me in a dungeon, he would’ve already.
His heated gaze keeps drifting to me. Back and forth, we play some kind of eye-snare game.
He looks at me and I catch him.
Then I look at him and he catches me.
My heartbeat thuds in my ears. My body’s simmering, ready to catch on to a full burn. My panties are soaking wet. I get brave and hold my stare, daring him to let me in on the secret promise behind his fiery baby blues, until William shifts and breaks the moment.
He gets up from the table as though our silent conversation never happened. Maybe he’s married. I scan his left hand and don’t see a ring. I start to get up.
“No.” He turns at the sound of my chair moving against the floor. “Stay put. I don’t want you to lift a finger.”
“Wow. Bossy much?” I ask, putting my butt right back in the chair.
William gives me a double take. The flip of the dynamics, the thought ofhimworried about whatImight say or do for a change, cracks me up. The wine is helping too. I’ve had two glasses, more than I’ve had in months, and it’s gone straight to my head—and that little lonely cave between my legs.
I hold back a smile, peering over the rim of my glass at him while I take another sip. William raises his brows with a naughty grin and starts cleaning the counters.
I try to command my brain to stay in the moment, but it’s no use. I keep skipping ahead, wondering what’s next. I know there’s only one bed in this house, because he made it a point to explain there’s no hidden room with an extra bunk somewhere.
