Page 718 of One More Kiss

Maybe I’d be better off following the narrow dirt road and avoiding the cabin altogether.

I reached the edge of the narrow road, the gritty dirt crunching under my shoes as I made my way across, taking my time to approach.

The lamp cast a soft glow on a leather chair. I slowly crept up the three wooden steps on the small front porch and pressed myself along the edge of the cabin until I reached the edge of the picture window.

Leaning over, I caught sight of something shifting in the darkness. The fridge opened, the shine of the appliance bulb highlighting a pair of wide shoulders. He bent over, reached in, and snatched something off the shelf before flicking the door shut.

Slowly, he turned until I got a subtle glimpses of his profile. A rush of sweet relief slid through me as recognition hit.

Mr. Maxwell.

Could it get any better than stumbling upon an Ethics professor of all people? Straitlaced philosopher behind a pair of thick black frames. I almost felt bad for the guy all alone out here. A recluse.

He tossed his glasses on the table next to his chair and tipped back the bottle of beer he’d just popped open.

He’d help me. He’d drive me to—

I sucked in a breath as he slid the dress shirt off his shoulders and the glow of the lamp fell on his back.

Heat speared through me and my stomach plummeted to my toes at the sight of the rust-colored ink imbedded into his skin, covering his entire back.

Two interlocked scorpions.

My head swam as the details flooded back.

He wasn’t just a legend told at bonfires.

Shadow was real. Flesh and blood.

And the person you’d least expect.

His muscles flexed and the scorpion tails shifted with the movement as though skirting back and forth toward one another.

He dropped into the chair and swiped the screen of his cell. A sly look crossed over his face and without the glasses, he transformed from mild-mannered Ethics professor to a secret fantasy. A puzzle of contradictions that begged to be studied and sorted.

A couple more swipes and his face contorted. His lips parted, his eyes narrowed, and his straight white teeth sank into his bottom lip as he stretched his arm over his head and clasped the back of the chair.

Oh, hell.

I craned my head trying to snatch a glimpse of whatever had him so worked up on his screen just to have him slam his phone down next to him and his hand reach for the snap of his jeans.

Ummmm.

I shouldn’t be watching this.

And there was no way in hell I was walking away.

For the first time in six months, fires of desire lit in me born of hot-blooded male instead of destruction and I wanted to see how far my body could go. If I could find my way back.

With his button and zipper undone, he slid his jeans down a fraction and reached his fingers around—

Well.

That was.

I mean.

Damn.

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