Chapter 4
FOUR
KNOX
Stepping under the shower head, I flinch as ice cold water saturates me.
Hands braced against the shower wall, I stand under the stream. Jaw clenched. Waiting for the water to do the trick.
Waiting for the water to cut the flow of blood to my cock so it’ll stop standing at attention like it’s bed check time at basic training.
After spending most of yesterday showing my guest around, I went to bed with her scent still clinging to me. Thoughts of a brunette beauty flowed through my head all night.
I woke up so hard, my dick might as well be cut from marble.
It was all I could do not to pull the runaway bride out of my bed and kiss her until she wants me every bit as badly as I want her. Like I’m a God damn caveman.
I wonder what she tastes like.
For fuck’s sake.
My cock growing more slack, I face the water head-on. Willing the ice cold flow to knock some sense into me. As the water flows, I repeat the same lines in my head.
She’s not staying.
This is temporary.
You aren’t relationship material.
When those don’t work, and I find myself thinking about the way she bites her bottom lip when she’s trying not to laugh, I add another one.
She’s already run out on one man before.
My gut twists at that one. It isn’t fair. I don’t know why she left her ex at that altar. But I’m sure she had a good reason. I may have known her less than twenty-four hours, but I know she’s a good, kind woman.
Plus, if her ex is even half the douche he was to me on the phone, she dodged a bullet.
Chilled to the bone, and much more less aroused than I was a few minutes ago, I shut off the water and snatch my towel off the hook.
I rub the towel over my shoulders and chest. I avoid looking in the mirror as long as I can. But I catch a glimpse of my reflection as I turn to dry my beard.
My mouth curves downward.
Even if Quincy isn’t running from a bad relationship and here for a short time, she deserves better than me.
She deserves more than half a man.
She deserves a man who can always protect her.
She deserves a man who can look in a mirror without being reminded of what he’s lost.
At first glance, I pass for whole. My prosthetic eye is nearly perfect. I had it custom-made and fitted by a specialist down in Anchorage. It’s the right color. There’s even a shine to it that almost looks like a twinkle in some eyes. The technician said you’d never know.
But I do.
It’s not even just the loss of my eye. It’s what it represents. Every time I see myself in the mirror, I see the face of a man who couldn’t move fast enough. A man who was hit by shrapnel and felled before he could complete his mission.
I see a man who let his unit and his country down.
I reach up and trace the line of scar that disappears into my beard. The whiskers cover most of it. But I feel it. The reminder that I’m not the man I used to be. Not even close.
A blood-curling scream from outside chills me to the bone. My heart stilts.
Quincy.
Slinging the towel around my waist, I race out the door. Clutching it close, I don’t bother with so much as a pair of jeans or my boots. I’m out the door before it can even occur to me that I might need them, or anything.
As I raise across the grass, pine needles crunching under my feet. The cold morning nips at my nose and other parts of my body.
I ignore every bit of pain as I furiously scan the area looking for the woman who has already gotten under my skin.
When I see her by the sauna, arms wrapped around herself, and trembling, relief and concern war inside of me.
“Are you okay?” I call, reaching her side. “What happened?”
She spins toward me, eyes wide. They grow even wider when she catches sight of me. “I-I saw something—I thought it was a bear—it was big and it moved and I just—I panicked?—”
Instantly in protective mode, I push her behind me and frantically look around us. Toward the trees. Nothing moves. But I note a fallen rake next to a wind-blown tarp outside the sauna window.
I sigh in relief, my shoulders instantly relax.
“It’s okay.” I face her again and rest a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I think we’re in the clear, but you’re safe now.”
Her breath’s still coming fast, chest rising and falling beneath the oversized flannel I loaned her. It falls to her thighs, but I catch a glimpse of scratched knees below.
She must have taken a stumble in her fear.
My heart aches, and without thinking, I pull her close.
She clutches me, like I’m her lifelong.
“Oh, God, I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I freaked out over nothing.”
“Hey.” I tip her chin up. “You’re in the middle of bear country. That’s allowed. In fact, it’s smart to be cautious.”
Her lips tremble into a half-smile.
“I didn’t mean to scream like that,” she says. “I was just getting into the sauna when I saw something move out of the corner of my eye. My brain went bear and?—”
“You did the right thing,” I make circles on her back, trying to soothe her with my touch and words. “But, next time, if it is a bear, there are a few things you can do to be safe.”
She sniffs. “Like what? Make myself look big and scream?”
“Not exactly. It depends on the bear.”
Her bottom lip trembles. Before the fear takes hold of her again, I explain.
“If it’s a black bear, yeah, go ahead and make yourself big, backing away slowly while you make noise. That scream of yours packs a punch.”
She grins at that.
“Now, if it’s a grizzly, you don’t run. You don’t make eye contact. You don’t speak. You just slowly move away.”
Her brows lift. “And if it comes after me?”
“You play dead.”
“Seriously?”
“Yep. Lie flat on the ground, cover your neck, and say a little prayer he leaves you alone.”
Her face goes pale. “Well, that’s terrifying.”
“Sure, but if it comes to you and a bear, my money is on you.”
She smiles brightly again, this time it lights up her whole face in a way that lifts the gloom I’ve been carrying around me like a coat. The wind picks up, lifting a lock of her brown hair. Without thinking, I tuck it behind her ear. Her face tilts toward mine, and my finger trails along the curve of her cheek.
Our gazes lock.
It flips a switch inside of me.
I should step back. Give her room to breathe.
Instead, my fingers curl under her jaw and raise it even higher until our mouth are a breath apart. Her lips part, and she lets out a light breath that tickles my nose.
“Quincy.”
“Knox,” she whispers back.
After that, I’m lost.
I lower my mouth to hers. Slow and deliberate. Our lips meet, and everything stops.
There’s no wind. No trees. No self pity and no doubt.
Her mouth is soft against mine as she kisses me back. It’s tentative at first. But then she leans in, her palms sliding up my bare chest to cling to my shoulders.
Pulling her more closely to me, I devour her mouth. Kissing her like a man starving. I am a man starving. Starving for her.
And she tastes… She tastes sweet, like honey. There’s something else. Something uniquely Quincy, and it’s intoxicating. Like too much whiskey on a night out.
Her body presses more firmly against mine. I can feel myself growing hard again with only the towel and flannel separating us. We’re in unchartered territory now. It’s dangerous. Reckless.
But it’s too late.
I could kiss her forever.
Until she freezes. “What was that?”
She pulls back, gasping for breath, and her nails bite my shoulders. Her eyes grow wide again.
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath. “I’m sorry. I didn’t?—”
“I didn’t mean that.”
“No.” I shake my head, furious with myself for crossing a line. “It’s fine.”
“No, I?—”
“That shouldn’t have happened. It was a mistake.”
Her face falls. She looks like I just told her Christmas was cancelled.
I hate myself for making her look like that.
“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” she says quickly. “I just saw something else over your shoulder and?—”
“That doesn’t change anything,” I interrupt. “I still crossed a line.”
“Knox—”
“You’re leaving, Quincy. This—whatever it is—it can’t go anywhere. It can’t.”
Her mouth opens, then closes. She crosses her arms and glares at a nearby tree. “I didn’t ask for this either,” she says quietly.
I flinch.
Silence stretches between us. The only sound is the wind blowing through the branches.
Finally, she meets my gaze again. “You won’t break me, Knox.”
I look at her sharply. She has no idea how far from the truth the words could be.
I shake my head. “I could.”
And before I can change my mind. Before I can pull her back into my arms and sink back into the haze of our kiss, I stride back to the cabin.
She says I won’t break her. But that’s a risk I’m not willing to take.