Normally I didn’t give a flip. Much. But, let’s face it, I’m human and I have insecurities just like the next woman.
And yet, there was something in Kane's gaze. Flashbacks of junior high and high school, when the popular guy accidentally looked my way. The butterflies were in full flight.
And there was something beyond his stereotypical male morning wood.
And it made me think: maybe.
Maybe he really was into me.
Maybe I should go for it?
"You been holding onto that zinger for a while, have you?"
"Chas, I may be a trained stuntman, but I write my own material." With a quick wink, his grin turned into a boyish smile. It was the only boyish thing about Kane London.
Sweeping out his arm, he said," It's all yours, beautiful." Then sauntered off. Yes sauntered.
Lordy, I might just have met my match. And where had “Chas” come from? And why did I suddenly want him to call me his?
The morning unfolded without further banter. After a breakfast of scrambled eggs, toast and bacon he’d cooked on an enormous grill on his deck, we both fueled up with enough caffeine to knock out an elephant.
A loud bang on the cabin’s front door echoed throughout the nearly empty cabin. A sharp squeak exploded from me, and I spilled the rest of my coffee onto my hand. Kane swore, grabbed a kitchen towel and then covered my red flesh.
“Need ice?” He whispered the question even as he placed his massive bulk between me and the door and ordered me onto the floor, but I shook off his concern. “Down now!”
Out of nowhere, a gun had appeared in his left hand.He was lefty?How had I missed that detail? And where had he hidden the gun? His outfit today had been just as form-fitting and nearly identical to the one from yesterday. Black jeans, a dark t-shirt, well-worn combat boots.
“Stay down until I say otherwise. If I tell you to run, you do it. Through the bedroom, to the slider. There’s a rope ladder to the immediate left, just under the deck. You get down and run to the lodge. Don’t look back. No stopping. Got it?”
Shaking, all I could do was nod as I crouched below him on my hands and knees. The position made me feel vulnerable, and not only because of what or who was on the other side of the front door. It had everything to do with Kane towering above me. Bodyguard mode was in full effect, and it was damn hot.
And it felt not that different from the dream I had about him last night. He’d growled his need for me while stripping me and taking me from behind on that monster of a bed, thrusting into me, over and over again until I was delirious with the need to come and he?—
“Chassie!”
“Yeah, I got it. You say run, I run.” I breathed out. I was damn lucky he couldn’t see my face; otherwise, he’d know exactly by my inflamed cheeks exactly how lost in my sexual fantasy I’d become.
Mumbling something about stubborn-ass females, I held my breath as Kane made his way to the front door. I’d give anything to be able to watch him in action, but I didn’t want to be barked at again. Well, unless he was up for a little role-playing, then I’d be all in. But I stayed down and waited.
And waited.
What was he doing? And whoever was harassing me really been able to find me—here? I wanted to believe it was unlikely.I’d never once posted about my family, or my ties to the Triple R. In fact, this was my first trip out here.
Why was this happening? Just when my life and my health were finally improving. Just when I’d met a man who made me want to throw all my insecurities to the curb, along with my brother’s silent warnings, and offer up a no-strings short-term sex feast.
The absurdity of the situation, along with my one-track mind of getting into Kane’s pants, collided and I let out a very loud and very unladylike snort. Slapping my hand over my mouth to keep myself from shouting out an apology, I waited. But instead of a reprimand, Kane shouted, “Fucking Baz!”
Loud stomping ensued as two sets of heavy footfalls vibrated across the planked flooring. Like an obedientprotectee, uh, protected person that I was, I remained in the uncomfortable position behind Kane’s kitchen island until the tops of four beat-up boots appeared in my peripheral vision.
“Jesus, you can get up now, Chassie. This is Baz. False alarm. Sorry.” Kane held out a hand and lifted me up. The quick movement messed with my balance, and I ended up face first against his chest.
Low rumbling and scorching heat. My nose was squashed against Kane’s shirt, and there was no stopping the long sniff of man I took in. Pine scented musk. Nothing artificial. But it was a combination that, if bottled, would become an instant bestseller. If not by men, then by women buying for the men in their life or, better yet, to spritz on their pillow. A scent guaranteed to transport you into a nighttime fantasyland.Oh, boy, I had it bad.
“You okay?” Kane’s voice had dropped a couple of octaves, adding to the embarrassingly intimate situation being witnessed by the man standing next to Kane.
Decked out in much the same attire, except for a well-worn black leather jacket, this man was a good two, maybethree inches taller than Kane. He had a full, silver-grey beard, which made him look slightly Santa Claus-ish. A dangerous but sexy Santa. But his scowl and absence of fat ended any further resemblance to jolly ol’ St. Nick.
“I’m fine. Slightly embarrassed and in definite need of picking up yoga again, but yes, I’m good. So, not my stalker.” I nodded to Mr. Grumpy and waited for an introduction.
