CHAPTER THREE
Sadie
I woke up in Blake’s bed feeling like I’d been hit by a truck. Not because of my ankle—that was actually feeling much better—but because I’d spent the entire night tossing and turning. My thoughts filled with my unexpected host and what he made me feel.
The smell of coffee and bacon drifted down the hallway, and my stomach growled loudly enough to wake the dead. I walked carefully to the bathroom and when I caught sight of myself in the mirror I immediately wanted to crawl back under the covers.
My hair looked like I’d stuck my finger in an electrical socket, there were pillow creases on my cheek.
And I was antsy with anticipation of seeing Blake again.
“Get it together, Sadie,” I muttered to my reflection. “He’s just being nice. Don’t read into it.”
Except the way he’d basically ordered me to stay with him hadn’t sounded nice. It had sounded possessive. Final.
It should have pissed me off. Instead, it made me wet.
I pulled my oversized sleep shirt over my head, wishing I’d had enough courage to ask him to borrow one of his.
Falling asleep wrapped in his scent—would have been dangerous, but oh, so satisfying.
I’d dreamt of the weight of his chest pressing me down, the scrape of his beard between my legs, the low sound he might make with his mouth full of me.
I picked up my backpack and rummaged through it, suddenly disappointed in what I’d packed for the weekend.
I’d wanted to be comfortable hiking up the side of a mountain so I’d brought sturdy jeans, the not-so-practical sneakers, and oversized long-sleeved shirts.
Nothing frilly or delicate—I wasn’t that kind of girl.
Except for the black teddy buried at the bottom of my overnight bag.
I pulled it out, the silky fabric slipping between my fingers. I’d bought it for Aaron, but even before he ditched me, I’d known he wouldn’t have appreciated it. But Blake? Blake would tear it in half just to get to me faster. The image had my pulse thundering in my throat.
I shoved it back into the pack before I did something reckless. Like appearing in his kitchen with it on.
Or nothing at all.
Down, girl. I warned myself. I was already in enough trouble with my traitorous hormones.
I brushed out my hair and pulled it back into a high ponytail. The style always made me feel confident for some reason. I took a deep, fortifying breath before opening the door and making my way to the kitchen.
Blake stood at the stove, his back to me, and holy hell, the man filled out a flannel shirt like it was his job.
The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing corded forearms. And his hands.
A shiver ran down my spine at the sight of his hands—hands I could so easily picture gripping my hips while he drove deep inside me.
“Morning.” This was a first for me. Being in a man’s kitchen early in the morning. I was really hoping I’d be experiencing a lot of firsts this weekend. With Blake.
He turned, and those arctic blue eyes swept over me from head to toe. I felt exposed, like he could see right through my defenses to all the needy, desperate parts of me I kept hidden.
“Coffee?” His voice was gravelly, like he’d just woken up.
“Please. And tell me that’s real bacon I smell, because if you’re one of those health nuts who thinks turkey bacon is acceptable, we’re going to have problems.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “Real bacon.”
“Thank God. A man with priorities.”
He handed me a mug, our fingers brushing. Heat shot up my arm, and I almost dropped it. His eyes darkened—he’d felt it too.
“How’s the ankle?” he asked, his gaze dropping to my foot.
I tested it gingerly. “Much better. Barely even hurts now.”
“Good.”
We stood there in awkward silence while I sipped my coffee and tried not to stare at the way his jeans hugged his thighs.
This was torture. Pure, sexual torture. He wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that he was looking at me.
And, oh boy, was my body telling me how much I wanted him—my nipples hardened beneath my shirt, and my lady parts were growing damp and needy.
“So,” I said, desperate to fill the silence, “what do you do all day up here on the mountain?”
He plated the bacon and eggs, then slid a full plate across the counter to me. “Depends on the day.”
“That’s not really an answer.”
“Wood chopping. Maintenance on the cabin. I’ve got a garage out back.”
“What kind of garage?”
“I work on classic cars. Restoration work.”
“That’s... really cool. My words tangled because I was picturing those grease-stained hands wrapped around my waist, bending me over the hood of some muscle car and taking me hard and fast. “I work in marketing for a tech startup. Considerably less exciting than bringing classic beauties back to life.”
He just shrugged his shoulder leaving me to wonder about his past. One just didn’t wind up alone on a mountain restoring old cars. “You like it?”
I considered the question while I demolished the best breakfast I’d had in months. “It pays the bills. And it’s better than my last job at an insurance company, where I spent my days explaining to people why we couldn’t cover their claims. That was soul-crushing.”
“What would you rather do?”
The question caught me off guard. When was the last time someone had asked me that? “I don’t know. I used to write, back in college. Short stories, mostly. But that’s not exactly a stable career path, and I’ve got student loans that aren’t going to pay themselves.”
He didn’t look away, didn’t dismiss it. “You could still write.”
The certainty in his tone cracked something open in me. Aaron had never once taken me seriously. But Blake? Blake said it like a fact, like he already believed in me.
“Can I see your garage?” I asked. “I promise I won’t touch anything or get in your way.”
Something shifted in his expression. Like people never took an interest in him. Or that he wanted them to. “You want to see it?”
“Yeah. I’ve never seen a car restoration shop. Sounds fascinating.”
It wasn’t a lie. I was curious about his work. But mostly I wanted to see him in his element, doing something that obviously mattered to him.
“All right.”
After breakfast, he led me outside to a large metal building behind the cabin.
Inside, the smell of motor oil mixed with the tang of metal.
Tools hung neatly on pegboards, and there were two cars in various stages of restoration—a sleek blue Mustang that looked like it belonged in a muscle car magazine, and what appeared to be a vintage Camaro with its hood up, engine parts laying neatly on a nearby workbench.
“Blake.” I ran my fingers over the smooth surface of the Mustang’s hood. “These are incredible.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m serious. How long does something like this take?” He wasn’t watching the car. He was watching me. The weight of his stare sank into my skin like a brand, leaving me hot all over.
“The Mustang? About eight months.”
“No wonder you like it up here. I wouldn’t want to leave either if I got to work on beauties like this.
” I circled the garage, marveling at how precise and ordered everything was.
“I should let you get back to it. I know you didn’t plan on company so fair warning, I talk too much.
Aaron was always telling me to dial it back.
Silence makes me babble, and I probably sound like a wind-up toy, so I’ll just—”
“Sadie.”
I stopped mid-ramble and looked at him.
“You’re not a bother.”
“I’m not?”
“No.” He stepped closer, and my pulse jumped. “And I’m not working today.”
Another step closer and my body was taking note of everything about him. His size, his scent. The way his hair fell down over his forehead. Who knew that was a sexy look on a man?
“What are you doing today then?” I looked up at him, meeting his gaze. Those beautiful eyes were mesmerizing. I could lose myself in them. In him.
“Spending time with you.”
Oh.
Oh.
Every nerve in my body lit like a fuse. His nearness didn’t just make me breathless—it made me restless, needy, like my skin was too tight to contain the want crawling through me.
Aaron had always been looking at his phone when I talked, scrolling through social media or checking work emails. Blake was looking at me like I was the only thing in his world.
“You don’t know me well enough to want to spend time with me.”
“I know enough.”
He was close enough now that I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. Close enough that I could see the gold flecks in all that blue. Close enough that if I rose up on my toes, I could kiss him.
The thought sent another wave of heat crashing over me. This was dangerous territory. I was already way too attracted to this man for my own good.
“What do you know?” I whispered.
“I know you’re smart and funny and stronger than you think you are.” His hand brushed my hip.
“Blake...”
“I know that asshole never deserved you.”
The possessive edge in his voice made something flutter in my chest. Aaron had never defended me. Never stood up for me. Hell, he’d barely acknowledged me half the time.
His other hand came up to cup my cheek, his thumb stroking across my skin and my eyes fluttered closed. I wanted to know more too. I wanted to know what his hands would feel like on other parts of my body. The thoughts were so vivid, so intense, they made me dizzy.
“I don’t usually feel this comfortable with someone so soon,” I said.
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
I opened my eyes and looked at him—really looked at him. He was big and gruff and dangerous-looking, and he lived alone on a mountain like some kind of hermit. By all rights, I should be terrified.
Instead, I felt safer than I had in years.
“Good,” I whispered. “Definitely good.”
His hand slid from my cheek to the back of my neck, his fingers warm and possessive, holding me there like he didn’t want me to move.
I wanted him to pull me forward, to kiss me, to pin me against the hood of that Mustang and make me beg.
But instead, he just looked at me—hungry, restrained, dangerous. And it left me trembling.