4. Chapter 4 #2
I drop my weight and shift my hips.
Gavin catches the movement immediately.
“No.”
His hand moves to my hip.
My entire body lights up.
“Why?”
“You’re trying to pull away from me.”
“I thought that was the general goal.”
“You make space first.”
His palm presses against my hip, guiding the angle.
“Here.”
My ass brushes the front of his sweatpants.
Gavin goes completely still.
So do I.
Oh.
That is not subtle.
The hard length of his erection presses against me through the thin fabric of his sweatpants and my shorts.
Heat floods my face.
Neither of us moves.
His breathing changes behind me.
Mine stops entirely.
I should step away.
Instead, I become painfully aware of every place our bodies touch.
His chest against my back.
His arm around my middle.
His hand gripping my hip.
His cock hard against my ass.
“Gavin.”
My voice comes out much softer than intended.
His fingers flex once against my hip.
Then he releases me and steps back.
Cold air rushes into every place his body had been.
I turn.
His face has changed.
The easy edge is gone.
His silver-gray eyes are fixed on me with an intensity that makes my stomach tighten.
I swallow.
“Was that part of the lesson?”
“No.”
Oh.
I look at him.
He looks at me.
My mouth goes dry.
“Good to know.”
His gaze drops to my lips.
Every nerve in my body wakes up.
I could move.
I could step closer.
I think he knows it.
He takes one step back instead.
“That’s enough.”
My pride recovers before the rest of me.
“I was doing fine.”
“You were.”
“Then why are we stopping?”
His jaw tightens.
For a second, I think he is not going to answer.
Then his eyes move over my face.
“Because I’m done pretending touching you is only training.”
My heart gives one violent thump.
Gavin turns toward the cabin.
“Come inside.”
I stare at his back.
Excuse me?
He just says something like that and walks away?
“That seems unfair.”
He glances over his shoulder.
“What does?”
“You know what.”
“Inside, Hannah.”
I hate the effect those two words have on me.
I follow him anyway.
The cabin is warmer after the cold air outside.
We kick off our boots by the door and head into the kitchen.
Then I notice the white paper bag on the kitchen counter.
SUGAR MOON BAKERY is printed across the front.
“You went into town?”
“Early.”
“While I was asleep?”
“Yes.”
A strange feeling moves through my chest.
He got up.
Checked whatever Gavin checks before normal people are conscious.
Went into town, bought breakfast, came back.
And I slept through all of it.
I slept because some part of me believed he would still be here when I woke up.
That thought is much more dangerous than watching him shirtless.
Gavin walks past me toward the kitchen.
“Road was clear. No unfamiliar vehicles near the property.”
The reminder of why I am here cuts through the warmth.
“You checked?”
“Yes.”
“Did you hear from Kaden?”
“No.”
My stomach sinks.
“I’m working on it.”
There is enough certainty in his voice that I believe him.
Which may also be dangerous.
He fills the coffee maker with practiced movements, scoops grounds into the filter, and turns it on.
Watching Gavin Mercer make coffee shirtless after having his hands all over my body feels deeply unreasonable.
I sit at the counter before my knees decide to become involved in the situation.
He opens the bakery bag while the coffee brews.
The smell of cinnamon and butter fills the kitchen.
My stomach answers immediately.
Gavin looks at me.
I point a warning finger at him.
“Do not.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Your face did.”
“My face said your muffin yesterday was bullshit.”
I gasp.
“You leave that muffin out of this.”
He pulls out a cinnamon roll large enough to require its own mailing address and sets it on a plate.
Then another pastry.
Then another.
I stare.
“Are we feeding the entire mountain?”
“You need breakfast.”
“This is breakfast for a lumber crew.”
“Eat what you want.”
The words are familiar from last night.
So is the complete absence of judgment behind them.
I look down at the cinnamon roll.
Something twists under my ribs.
I reach for it.
The coffee maker finishes behind him.
Gavin takes down two mugs and pours.
I watch him add a little cream to one before placing it in front of me.
No sugar.
Exactly right.
My fingers stop around the handle.
“How did you know?”
Gavin looks at me.
“Know what?”
“How I take it.”
His expression barely changes.
“You drank it that way last time you were here.”
I stare at him.
“That was two years ago.”
“I remember.”
Two words.
That is all.
Something in my chest goes painfully soft.
People forget things about me all the time.
My father once forgot what year I graduated college.
My mother remembers my dress size better than my favorite color.
Declan remembered things when remembering them was useful.
Gavin remembers my coffee after one weekend two years ago.
I take a sip because speaking suddenly feels risky.
It is perfect.
I focus on the cinnamon roll instead.
Gavin leans against the counter across from me, still shirtless, drinking black coffee like this is a normal morning.
It is impossible to concentrate on pastry under these conditions.
“You could put on a shirt.”
His mug pauses halfway to his mouth.
“Could.”
I wait.
He drinks.
My eyes narrow.
“Are you going to?”
“No.”
My cheeks heat.
There is the faintest shift at the corner of his mouth.
“You’re enjoying this.”
“Breakfast?”
“You know exactly what I mean.”
His gaze moves over me.
Calm. Thorough. Unmistakable.
“I do.”
The cinnamon roll nearly falls out of my hand.
I set it down before I embarrass myself.
Gavin pushes away from the counter and comes around to my side.
My pulse starts climbing again.
He stops in front of me.
Too close.
“What?”
His eyes settle on my mouth.
“You’ve got icing there.”
“Oh.”
I reach for a napkin, but his hand gets there first.
His thumb brushes the corner of my mouth.
Every thought in my head disappears.
He could have wiped it away and stepped back.
He doesn’t.
His thumb lingers against my lower lip, his eyes following the movement.
The heat of him reaches me even though he is not touching me anywhere else.
I look up.
Our eyes meet.
Neither of us moves.
His chest is inches from mine.
My lips part beneath his thumb.
There is no joke this time.
Nothing clever enough to hide behind.
I want him to kiss me.
The realization arrives whole.
Terrifyingly simple.
Something tightens in Gavin’s face.
His thumb leaves my mouth.
Then he steps back.
“Eat.”
I stare at him.
He returns to his coffee like he did not just almost stop my heart.
I pick up the cinnamon roll.
“Just so we’re clear, I currently dislike you.”
“No, you don’t.”
I take an aggressive bite.
Unfortunately, he is right.