“Are you afraid of me?” I ask. If I truly frighten her, there’s no way I can stay here for six weeks with her.
“I’m not afraid of anything,” she mutters, but she clearly is. Something gave her that nasty scar, and I spook her. Without thinking, I reach out for her right cheek, the scarred side, and cup her face. She instantly stills, back ramrod straight and breathing heavily. To my surprise, she doesn’t flinch away. My thumb tenderly brushes over the puckered skin, and along the length of it to her jaw. I caress her chin and stretch my thumb up to her lower lip, stroking over the peach curve of the bottom swell. She’s an arm’s length away from me, and I step closer.
“You’re still beautiful,” I say, and her breath hitches.
“Now, you’re just being cruel.”
“How? How is that mean? Do you think beauty is only skin deep?”
“Don’t you? You just told me you think that girl is beautiful.”
“You asked me,” I counter, a smirk curling my own lip as I continue to brush over hers with the pad of my thumb. Her pout is soft, and I wonder for the hundredth time what she would taste like. In all my dreams of her, that feisty personality translates to someone wild in bed, and I want to get tangled up with her. I want to relieve this energy rolling around her and turn it into something constructive…with me.
“Is sex all you think about?” she asks as if reading my mind.
“Not all I think about. I think about cooking and restaurants on occasion,” I tease, still stroking that pout. Then slowly, with measured effort, I move my palm under her chin and along the side of her neck.
She freezes.
“Do I frighten you?” I ask again. She swallows against my hand as I continue my path to the collar of her shirt. The scars run lower. Her running shirt gave away the length when I first saw her. The sharp lines travel to her breast, but do they go lower? I hadn’t considered it. Did someone hurt her there, against her sensitive skin, against the tender globe?
Suddenly, I’m no longer upset with her but angry—very angry—on her behalf. “Tell me what happened.”
Her head shakes slowly side to side and for the first time I see fear in her eyes, as if telling me her history would be worse than the experience.
“I’d never hurt you,” I whisper, my voice rough in the lowered tone.
“Because of the money,” she quietly states. I don’t like the sound of her voice.
“You think I won’t hurt you because I’m paid not to?” Like a slap in the face, it’s a stab of reality. Am I taking advantage of them for the financial boost I need for my future? I don’t really see it like that. Jacob wants me here to protect his sister, and I have a contract to do just that while he’s away. I’m bound to keep her safe, and I intend to keep that promise.
“Is she your type?” Ella asks, ignoring my question.
“I don’t have a type.”
“All men do,” she mutters. My hand rests against her chest, just under her shoulder. Cautiously, I retrace my path, up her neck, curling under her jaw to the side of her face and brushing back her hair, holding it back so I can see her scar better.
“Not me, princess.” I’m not about to tell this woman my sexual history. I’ve never been picky, but I am suddenly more selective. My eyes roam down her slim body, over her smaller breasts and along her toned legs in another pair of tight running pants.
“Stop calling me princess,” she snarks without much bite. Between her sassy mouth and the fullness of her lips, I want a bite of her. The flavor I want to savor is peach, and I lean forward until she tugs out of my grasp.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Crap. Crap. Crappity, crap. My hand hangs in the air.
“I…” I was about to kiss her. I don’t know what came over me, but I was going to kiss her. Again. The last thing this woman needs is a kiss from me. Maybe a good spanking to get over her attitude. But kisses? Nope. Not from me.
I take a step back and then pivot on my bare feet. I’ll save her the desire to walk away as I retreat first. I need some fresh air to rid my thoughts of peaches.
+ + +
After a quick change of clothes, I head for the dock. Too soon, the weather will prevent this kind of escape, and I want to soak up every last bit of sunshine warmth I can. I’m also eager to touch Ella’s things because she explicitly told me not to. I need some way to release this energy buzzing inside me. A way to push myself. I could go into Jacob’s home gym and wrestle his punching bag. Lord knows, I’m wound up, but I need the fall air for a while, and the lake calms my screaming thoughts.
What was I thinking? I was going to kiss her. Every time we get close, it’s all I can think about—her mouth against mine. It needs to stop. I need to focus, and not on her. Being here is the time I need to plan for my future. A restaurant of my own. I can do this. This is my chance.
Willing myself to think only of my future plans, I take the same path I took the other day, traveling all the way to the marina in town and back, which means I’m gone for about an hour and a half. My arms vibrate from the exertion. My back tenses, but the stretch feels good.
As I approach Jacob’s dock, I can’t miss the figure pacing back and forth on the wooden planks. With arms crossed, Ella takes measured steps to the end of the platform and flaps her arms. Her slim body and floating limbs make her look like a graceful crane about to take flight, only I already know this woman wants to pilot me to the ground. Her wild red waves are tucked into a messy bun on top of her head but several pieces escape, whipping around her face.
“You stole my kayak,” she shouts as I near.
“Your brother said I could use whatever I wanted here.”
“Not my stuff,” she scolds as I hold the paddle in a way that I coast toward the dock’s edge.
“Right, I’m not allowed to touch your thing,” I call out, a chuckle in my voice. Mentally, I feel better after this excursion. Calmer. I don’t know why I was so riled up, or why I wanted to kiss her. Maybe it’s because she didn’t think she was beautiful even with that scar. Maybe because she just pushes me to my limit.
I reach for the edge of the dock but hold myself at arm’s length, keeping the kayak out of her reach.
“Want to join me?” It’s not a two-person craft, but she’s slim enough she’d fit on my lap. It would be a tight fit, but I wouldn’t complain.
“No,” she snorts.
“Is that one of the only words you know?” I counter. She’s said no more to me the past few days than I’ve heard in years.
Maybe that’s why I’m attracted to her. I shake the thought.
“How about these words, get the fuck out of my kayak?”
“You know, it’s kind of a turn-on when you talk dirty like that.”
She huffs as she crosses her arms, which perk up her breasts only a little bit, but enough that I see the peak of her nipples through her skintight water shirt. It’s not a wet suit but one of those sun protection ones which cover her upper chest and neck. Her arms shift, rising higher on her chest when she notices where I’m staring.
“You disgust me.”
“Nah, not really,” I tease, still holding myself at arm’s length. My fingers curl over the edge of the wood decking. She’s such a brat as she steps forward, hoping to get her foot on my fingers. Good thing I’m too quick for her, pulling the digits away before she crushes them under her sole.