“Thickwood Shelter, Katarina speaking. How can I help?”
I clear my throat, trying to think what to say, but no words will come out. What am I supposed to say to her? Oh, I don’t need anything, I was just fantasizing about your voice.
“Miller, is that you?”
What the fuck? How did she—
“I can’t hear you properly, I think this must be a bad line. Miller?”
“Uh, yeah, hi.”
“Hi! How’s Little Miss Muffet?”
I lick my top lip, looking over to see the kitten’s head lolling out of her basket, eyes closed in blissful sleep. “She’s not good...”
“Oh no, shall I call the vet?” Katarina sounds panicked, and I think fast.
“No, nothing like that.” Holding the phone against my ear with my shoulder, I grab both sides of the one remaining sofa cushion that’s still intact and pull hard. There’s an almighty rip as the cushion falls apart, and I lower my voice. “No, Miss Muffet, stop!” The kitten opens her eyes for a moment, looks over at me, yawns, and then curls back down into her bed, covering her eyes with a paw.
“Oh my god, has she grown? That sounded bad.”
“Can you come over?”
“Uh...” She hesitates for a moment, and I curse technology for not allowing me to see her expression. “Sure. I finish in about an hour?”
“Perfect.”
I hang up the phone before I’m forced to lie any more than I already have, telling myself it’s just white lies that won’t harm anyone.
“Don’t tell,” I warn Miss Muffet as I wander past her toward the back door, then out into the yard. Having just spoken to Katarina, I could probably chop wood with my hard-on, but instead I grab my ax as I saunter toward the chopping block.
I’ve been living out here a long time, and the clouds on the horizon tell me there’ll be a storm later. Best to get the dry wood chopped and stacked in the woodshed that’s attached to the house before that happens, so I’m prepared.
AN HOUR LATER, I’M sweating like a motherfucker as I head back indoors, the wind starting to howl as it bends the tall trees near the cabin. I discarded my shirt as I chopped the wood, but it’s hot work and I need a shower before Katarina gets here. It’s about a thirty-minute drive up from the town, so I should have just enough time to jump in the shower and then make some sort of a plan for dinner.
In the shower, I have to relieve myself, otherwise my dick will be the one that needs to be tamed. I jerk off thinking of Kat. Then again.
Spending myself twice before washing and shampooing my hair. But, my dick still won’t go down.
Once more, I tell myself, fisting my cock.
Okay, maybe twice.
Chapter Six
Katarina
“HELLO?” I KNOCK AGAIN at the door, wondering if I misunderstood what we’d arranged. Glancing around, I can see that it’s getting blustery and the sky is darkening. Perhaps I should just turn around and get back to town before there’s any kind of storm.
Just then, the door opens, and I turn back to find Miller standing there, wrapped in nothing but a towel, and my jaw drops.
To say that the view is welcome would be an understatement.
Not only is his upper body on full display, thick curly hair covering every solid inch of wide pectorals and rolling abs, but the bulge I see behind the soft fabric of the towel...
I draw a deep breath, forcing my eyes back up to his face.
“Hi, sorry, did I mistake—”
“No.” He shakes his head. “Sorry. Just showering. You want to come in?”
I nod, following him into the house, and look around at the devastation. One of the cushions from the couch is ripped literally in two and it’s hard to believe that one small kitten could have such strength. But I know from experience, they can be more trouble than they look.
“Hey, sorry about...” I trail off as Miller turns around and the towel splits up his leg, nearly to the top. An inch to the left and I’d have a full view of...
I gulp, hoping he hasn’t noticed me staring. The last thing he needs is the daughter of his biggest business rival ogling him every chance she gets.
“Sorry? For what?” He asks. “Hey, is steak and baked potatoes with all the toppings okay for dinner?”
“Uh, don’t go to any trouble, I ought to get going again before the storm comes in.” I reply, watching his ass move beneath the towel as he heads into the kitchen, willing it to come unfastened. “Sorry about the mess Little Miss Muffet has made of your place. You know, if you really can’t cope, we can take her ba—”
“No!” His voice is almost a growl.
“Okay, it’s just sometimes adopted animals can be a handful...”
He steps back around the corner from the kitchen. “I don’t give up on what’s mine. Ever.”
I try to breathe as he looks me up and down, and I imagine him having that sort of possessiveness when it comes to me. Shielding me from others, making sure I’m safe... “Sorry, of course. Where is she?”
“In her basket. Under the...” He hesitates, then, “Best not to disturb her. When she’s sleeping is the only time she’s not causing havoc.”
I laugh and follow through to the kitchen. “So, what can I do for you then? You don’t want me to take her back, and she’s not being a mischief right now, so...”
He turns and points to the table. “Have a seat. I’ll get this started, put on some clothes and then we can eat.”
AS I PUT DOWN MY KNIFE and fork, my plate cleaned right down to the pattern, I glance up at Miller, then out the kitchen window. The rain has started, and the sky is so dark you’d think it was the middle of the night.
“So, Miss Muffet’s still asleep. I think perhaps I should get going...” I stare into his eyes, willing him to tell me to stay, wanting him to forbid me from going out there in this.
And for a moment, a look passes over his face that almost reads as desire. But it must be my imagination. There’s no way he’d ever...
“Storm’s getting bad,” he says.
I’m beginning to think that conversation isn’t Miller’s strong suit. Which I guess is fine, since I’m talkative enough for the both of us. I ended up opening up to him about stuff with my dad, the way he’s overbearing, how unhappy he was when I went into nursing instead of joining him selling cars or renting properties. For some reason, I even told him how I disagreed with my dad over the way he treated Miller in the Lathrup Park condo deal that went sideways last year.
Miller, throughout the entire conversation, said about two words.
“Yeah,” I agree. “If I don’t get home soon, I may end up spending the night in my car.” I laugh, but his eyes turn serious.
A moment passes between us, and I almost open my mouth to ask if I can stay, when suddenly there’s a huge flash of lightning, right outside the cabin, lighting up the whole sky. The crack of thunder is loud enough to wake the dead, and the lights in the cabin flicker once before going out, and it’s then that I hear a mewl from the kitchen doorway.