CHAPTER FOUR
Bridger
I needed to get the hell away from her.
The kiss had nearly broken me. Her hands fisted in my shirt. Her body pressed against mine. The taste of her still on my tongue.
If I stayed next to her another five minutes, I was going to have her against the nearest wall.
What you find… you keep.
That would be my rule number one I realized.
If I was doing that. Which apparently, I was, because I already needed a second rule.
Rule #2: Get the hell away from her before you do something stupid.
“I need to check on something,” I said, already backing down the sidewalk. “I’ve got a delivery coming.”
She blinked at me, lips swollen from my kiss. “Right now?”
“Yeah. Right now.” That was a lie, but I couldn’t help myself. I needed to leave.
“Okay.” She tucked that errant strand of hair behind her ear—that small, unconscious gesture that did things to me. “I’ll just... explore the house. If that’s okay.”
“Make yourself at home.”
I escaped before I could change my mind.
The walk to my workshop—a separate building about fifty yards from the house—was a forced march.
The delivery wasn’t actually due for another hour.
Most of the wood I used for my sculptures was basically large tree trunks and came from a logging company run by six bothers.
McAllister’s Logging. They kept a look out for potential pieces for me.
One of the brothers had called me a week ago and said he had something.
They’d found a large black walnut growing in a stand of oaks.
As soon as I saw it, I knew what I’d carve.
An eagle, wings spread as if it were about to fly off.
I let myself into the workshop and breathed in the familiar smell of fresh cut wood. This space was mine. Quiet. Safe. The one place in my entire property where Roxie hadn’t been.
Yet.
Visions of her sitting on my work bench, watching me work as she had today took over the part of my brain that was still only half functioning after that kiss. I kept seeing her face when she’d kissed me. The way her eyes had gone dark. The little sound she’d made when I deepened the kiss.
Rule #3: Don’t think about her while operating power tools.
Hell, I’d broken that rule before I even made it. That was all I’d done today while working on the bear today, trying to ignore her and failing miserably.
But then I had been thinking about her constantly since I’d looked up and seen her standing there with my uncle. She’d looked calm despite her situation. And so damn beautiful, I’d wanted to reach out and kiss her.
The sound of the delivery truck pulled me away from those thoughts, but I knew they’d be back. With a vengeance.
I helped unload the tree trunk. About ten feet long, almost four feet in diameter. I spent an hour just running my hands over it, examining the grain, planning my cuts. It was the kind of work that usually calmed me down.
Not today.
Today, every minute that ticked by, I was aware of exactly where she was. Probably in my kitchen. Or my living room. Or upstairs in the guest room.
Or maybe she was looking for me.
Stop.
I gave up working around four. Locked up the workshop and started the walk back to the house.
I told myself I’d just check on her. Make sure she was okay. Then I’d go to my room, take a cold shower, and pull myself together before dinner.
That was the plan.
The plan lasted exactly as long as it took me to walk around the side of the house and see her.
On the back deck.
In my hot tub.
Wearing a thin white t-shirt that was doing absolutely nothing to hide the fact that she was soaking wet.
I stopped dead.
She didn’t see me at first. Her eyes were closed, head tipped back against the edge of the tub. The steam rose in white wisps, and the wet fabric clung to her like a second skin.
Her breasts were heavy and full, the wet fabric clinging to them like a fucking gift. I could see the shape of her nipples through the cotton of her shirt and the lace of her bra. I could see the way her body curved under the water.
I wanted my mouth on every inch of her.
I wanted to drag her out of that tub and bend her over the nearest surface. Wanted to push that wet t-shirt up over her breasts and bury my face between them. I wanted to feel those thighs squeezing my head while I tasted her.
Rule #4: Sometimes karma needs a little assistance.
She opened her eyes slowly, like she could feel me watching and found me standing at the edge of the deck.
Watching.
She didn’t startle. Didn’t try to cover herself. Just smiled, slow and a little embarrassed.
“I didn’t pack a swimsuit,” she said. “I hope this is okay.”
“It’s fine.” I didn’t recognize my own voice.
“You’re not going to lecture me about white t-shirts and water?”
“I’m enjoying the view.”
“Touché, mountain man.” She grinned at me. “I’m pretending you can’t see anything.”
“It’s not working. You might as well be wearing cellophane, sweetheart. And if you keep smiling at me like that, I’m going to give you a real reason to blush.”
She closed her eyes again, the smile lingering. “I was afraid of that.”
I stood there at the edge of the tub, completely undone by the sight of her. She’d let her hair down and the water made her hair curl. The steam flushed her cheeks. The t-shirt clung to her.
She looked like a damn sea siren come to lure me to her bed. The only place I wanted to be.
“Bridger?” she said without opening her eyes.
“Yeah?”
“Are you going to stand there staring, or are you going to get in?”
Rule #2: Get the hell away from her… and stay away.
I was making rules of my own now and breaking them as fast as I made them.
“Give me a minute,” I said.
I went inside and changed into swim trunks. Stood in my bedroom for a second, gripping the dresser, trying to talk myself into being a decent human being.
It didn’t work.
I went back outside.
She watched me cross the deck. Watched me pull off my t-shirt. Watched me climb into the hot tub across from her.
The water was hot. Almost too hot. But I barely felt it. I was too busy feeling everything else.
“Hi,” she said softly.
“Hi.”
We sat there, six feet of water between us. Steam rose around us. The sun starting to drop behind the mountains.
“This is dangerous,” I said.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“You know why.”
She held my eyes. Bit her lip again.
“Rule number thirty-nine,” she said quietly. “When a man’s hot tub is dangerous, get out before you drown.”
“Those your momma’s rules or yours?”
“Mine.”
“Tell me, Roxie, are those brand new rules?”
“Yes. I’ve never been in a hot tub before.”
“Good. I like being your first.” Her face flushed. Seeing the expression on her face and the reaction of her body, I was pretty sure her experience was limited. Mine wasn’t. And I planned on putting everything I’d learned about a woman’s body to good use.
Rule #1: What you find, you keep.
I’d found her. Pure dumb luck or fate or whatever. A wedding had clogged up every hotel in town, and her car had given out at exactly the right mile marker, and now she was in my hot tub in a soaking wet white t-shirt.
I wasn’t letting her go.
“Come here,” I said.
She moved through the water slowly, like she was savoring the moment. The t-shirt floated around her and clung to her curves in turns.
When she reached me, I caught her hips.
“Bridger—”
I tugged, and she got the message. Climbed into my lap, knees on either side of my hips, hands braced on my shoulders. I groaned as her wet heat settled against me. My cock was so hard it ached, pressing into her and I didn’t care if she knew it. I wanted her to know it.
The water buoyed her up, making her feel deliciously heavy and yielding in my lap all at the same time.
Her full thighs framed my hips perfectly, her plush ass sinking right against my length.
Every instinct I had to be a gentleman dissolved in the steam.
I didn’t want a slim, delicate city girl. I wanted this woman.
I’d jerked off in the shower twice last night thinking about her. It had felt like nothing compared to having her actually in my lap, soft and warm and right fucking there.
Forever, something in me whispered. Mine forever.
I wasn’t that man. My past relationships basically consisted of extended hook-ups. No emotion involved.
But now, the thoughts I was thinking…
What would she look like in my bed every morning? In my kitchen making coffee? Pregnant with my kid?
My hands slid under the water, learning her shape.
“Bridger—”
“I’ve been thinking about touching you since the moment I saw you.” I’d known her for just over a day and my brain was running marathons toward a future she hadn’t agreed to.
I kissed her and she kissed me back with a desperate intensity that cracked my resolve. I planned on just touching her, tasting her. Giving her time. My hands found the hem of her wet shirt and I started pulling it up.
“This needs to come off,” I said against her mouth.
“Yes, it does.”
I peeled the soaked fabric over her head and tossed it on the deck. “And this,” I whispered, unhooking her bra. I peeled the wet fabric from her body and I just looked at her. Her nipples were already hard, big and thick. “Fuck,” I breathed.
I cupped one breast, my thumb brushing over her nipple, and she gasped. I leaned down and took her into my mouth, sucking hard. She cried out, her back arching, pushing more of her into me. I dragged my mouth away from her, my thumb brushing over what I’d just tasted.
Her hands dug into my scalp. “Please, Bridger.”
“Please what, baby?” I licked a drop of water running down the valley of her breasts.
“I need…”
“More?”
She arched into me, her hips rocking forward in the water, right against my hard dick, as if she were riding me.
“Easy,” I said. “I’m trying to take my time.”
“I don’t want you to take your time.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
I kissed her again, deep and consuming. My hands roamed her body—her hips, her waist, the swell of her stomach, her breasts. Learning every curve. Worshipping every inch. I ran my palms over the rich swell of her hips, squeezing her waist, anchoring her to my body so she knew she belonged to me.
She made a small sound against my mouth, and my hand slid lower, fingers slipping under the waistband of her shorts, finding the slick heat that belonged only to me.
They slid over her wet skin until my finger touched a soft nest of curls.
I liked that. I moved lower, sliding my finger briefly over her sweet bud before pushing through her lips, finding her entrance.
Holding her gaze, I pushed one finger inside her.
She gasped, her hands tightening on my shoulder.
“So wet for me,” I murmured.
“We’re in a hot tub,” she panted, her legs going slack around my hips and impaling my finger even deeper.
“That’s not what’s happening, sweetheart, and you know it.” I grasped the back of her neck and pulled her mouth to mine, I bit her full, lower lip. “You want me, don’t you, Roxie?”
I didn’t let her answer. I took her mouth, thrusting my tongue past her lips as my fingers drove deeper inside her pussy.
In and out. I set the rhythm, making her groan.
I added another finger as I tasted her, pushing her legs further apart with my arm. I finger fucked her as I took her mouth. I wanted to strip her naked, and plunge my hard cock inside her.
I wanted to fuck her.
The sound of my phone ringing penetrated the haze around my brain.
Loud. Insistent. From the ledge of the hot tub.
I ignored it and continued to touch her.
It rang again.
“Bridger,” Roxie murmured against my mouth.
“Don’t care.”
It rang a third time.
I groaned and pulled back.
I almost ignored it. Almost.
Lou’s name flashed across the screen.
Lou never called this late unless something was actually important. And he was working on her car.
“Fuck,” I muttered. I reached for the phone, swiped to answer it with wet hands. “Lou. This better be good.”
“Bridger,” Lou said. “Sorry to bother you, but I need to talk to Roxie for a minute. About her car. Some news on the parts situation.”
I closed my eyes.
Of all the damn timing.
“Yeah,” I said, my voice rough. “Hold on.”
I held the phone out to her.
Roxie blinked at me, then looked at the phone. Her cheeks went even pinker than they already were.
She took the phone, climbing carefully off my lap and settling next to me, one arm crossed over her bare chest. I sat there with my head in my hands, my cock ready to burst.
Rule #6: Don’t piss off karma, because she plays dirty.
Karma had decided to be a bitch today, cockblocking me in the most unforgiving way.