Page 13 of Rough Daddy
“No need. Just don’t fucking hurt yourself again. That’s all the thanks I need.”
“You don’t like when I’m hurt?”
The way his spine snaps straight makes me pause, remembering I’m alone up here with the largest man I’ve ever encountered in real life. His gaze jumps to my wrist, and he grimaces as he takes a step forward. “No. I don’t like when you are hurt,” he says, like he’s stating the obvious. “I’ve seen enough of that to last a lifetime.”
"Good," I whisper, stepping back. Teasing. Something I never would have thought of in the past but now seems so natural. "I was starting to think you didn't likeme."
“Show me your wrist. Let me check it.”
“It’s fine. I don’t want to talk about my wrist.”
“Don’t make me ask again, little girl.”
The way he sayslittle girlmakes things rattle loose in my belly. I try to hide the deep inhale I take as he leans closer, then hold out my wrist. He doesn’t touch it, just looks at it, tongue glancing his lower lip, teeth digging in.
“Any pain?”
I shake my head, wondering how breathing suddenly became so complicated. “I told you, I’m fine.”
His jaw locks as he chokes out a low grunt.
"Dinner's almost ready." He turns back to the oven, giving me lusty whiplash. "Want wine? My brothers’ wives left a bunch of pink stuff. Tastes like candy but with a kick."
"Yes," I breathe. "God, yes."
Two hours later, I'm three glasses deep in a very fruity pink wine and I'm ready to climb this mountain man like a coconut tree.
The food was incredible. Roasted chicken that fell off the bone, vegetables that tasted like something, sourdough breadstill warm from the oven. But every time I lean in closer, every time I make an attempt to get my fingers anywhere near him, he pulls back like I’m tainted.
It's driving me nuts.
Liquid courage takes control of my mouth. "This is ridiculous," I snap. "What's your deal?"
He drags my half-empty wine glass out of my reach.
"You look at me like you want to devour me one minute, but the second I get within a foot of you, you act like I have the plague."
His jaw goes tight. "It’s complicated."
"Make it simple." I lean forward, elbows on the table, cupping my chin in my hands. "Do you want me or not?"
"Tina…" My fake name sounds so good coming from those lips.
"Because I want you. And I'm tired of pretending otherwise." I lean forward. "So either tell me why you won't touch me, or I'm going to touch you and see what happens."
He shoves back from the table so fast his chair topples over with a loud bang. "Not gonna happen."
I blow out a breath. The wine is pushing on my bladder. "You have a bathroom in here I assume so I don’t have to stumble around in the dark back to my private suite?"
"Upstairs. Turn left." He stacks our plates, and doesn’t meet my eyes as he heads to the sink.
I push to my feet on a little sway. "We're not done talking." I jab a finger in the air, my tongue feeling thick.
He grumbles something, but his eyes follow me as I head for the stairs.
I wobble to the top of the stairs, find the bathroom easily, but the door across the little hallway is cracked open. Light filters out in a vertical streak, and curiosity gets the better of me. Snooping around the guest cabin proved fruitless when it cameto good intel on this sexy mountain man, but this room looks promising.
The sound of plates clinking and water running downstairs gives me the push I need.
