Micky hadn’t been able to hear
everything from the second story window at the back of the house,
though she’d given her best effort to eavesdropping. She
didn’t move after hearing Simon come in, waiting to see
if he was going to seek her out or if he would take out his frustrations
by pounding on the porch some more with his hammer.
She had no intention of hiding her snoopy nature, or denying
her curiosity. In fact, if he did come looking for her, she planned
to bombard him with questions about what was going on between
him and his cousin. But only another minute or two passed before
the kitchen door slammed on his exit and on all her answers.
She wasn’t patient enough to let him work things out the
way men seemed prone to do. If she expected him to tell her the
raw truth rather than giving her the rational explanation he
reached after time alone in his man cave, she had to get to him
before he’d put the incident away.
She scrambled down the stairs, dashed through the kitchen, and
pushed open the door to the porch. Once outside, she heard the
sound of running water. She followed the noise toward the storage
shed that sat near the tree line at the edge of the clearing.
On the far side of that structure and hidden from view was where
she found Simon.
Naked.
At least she assumed he was naked since he was standing under
the spray of a shower. An outdoor shower. Naked. Water raining
down. She suddenly couldn’t remember why she’d come
looking for him; she was too busy looking at him.
He had his eyes closed, his head turned up to the downpour,
his hands slicking his dark hair away from his face. She could
see the thick tufts of hair in his armpits, the wet mat of hair
in the center of his chest, his spiky lashes like spider legs
against his cheeks.
The enclosure’s wooden fence stopped her from seeing anything
below his first few ribs, though his legs were visible from the
knees down, and his feet large enough to tempt her to open the
gate for a peek at all the good stuff between.
“What do you want?” he asked.
She had no idea how she had give herself away – unless
he could hear her heart racing, or feel the tingle in the well
of her stomach, the suffocating belt of lust squeezing the air
from her chest.
“What happened with your cousin?” she came up with
as she climbed onto the stump of a long-ago felled tree to sit.
“He left.”
“I saw that much.”
“You didn’t hear the rest?”
Damn him. “Only bits and pieces. Not enough to answer
all my questions.”
“He won’t be coming around here again. That’s
the only answer you need.”
That’s what he thought. “You’re not going
to tell me about the money you gave him?”
“No,” he said, sputtering water.
“You’re not going to mend your broken fences?”
“I didn’t bring enough tools.”
“I’m not talking about property fences.”
“Neither am I.”
Apparently he wasn’t into sharing his feelings. Or thinking
confession good for the soul. “Did he take all the beer?”
“Every last bottle.”
“And you didn’t tell me you had an outdoor shower
why?”
That was when he looked at her. When he finally stopped being
an island unto himself and let her see how much he wanted her
and was struggling to keep her at bay.
She hadn’t known a man’s eyes could steal her breath
from her body. That one could look at her could grind everything
she thought she knew about herself to dust. That desire could
come alive and exist on its own, a being more powerful than she
had ever pretended to be.
“Why do you think?” was what he finally said when
she’d expected him to invite her inside.
He didn’t want to make the first move. She’d never
known a man who cared if she was ready, who’d asked himself
if seduction was what she wanted. She’d known this man
less than two days and had stopped counting the ways he’d
surprised her. All she knew was that she was as comfortable with
him as if she and not her one-dimensional self had been engaging
him in conversation since the billboard had gone up.
“Because the woman you thought I was wouldn’t care?
But the woman I am wants nothing more than to strip to her skin
and join you?”
He looked away, a visible tic in his jaw, another in his temple,
his throat flexing as he swallowed his response. And then he
gave up the fight, swearing to himself but loudly enough that
she could hear when he came to get her. He pushed open the enclosure’s
gate, stalked toward her bare and dripping, grabbed her by the
wrist and hauled her fully clothed with him into the small space
and the spray.
It was the most caveman thing she’d ever experienced,
a more intoxicating staking of a claim than any she’d ever
imagined – and she had imagined plenty, but nothing like
this . . . his hands holding her face, his fingers sliding into
her hair, his wrists pressed to her temples as his mouth came
down on hers. |
