Chapter 3
Simone
Tools are scattered around me in the small, cramped space where the water heater is tucked in.
I shake a loose braid out of my face as I try to remove the access panel that has not budged despite my desperate attempts to pry it off.
This is literally step number two, and I’m stuck.
A frustrated growl escapes my lips just as my poor back twinges in discomfort, causing me to lose my balance and hit the floor with a loud flump.
“Shit!” My finger catches on the sharp edge of the panel as I fall. Immediately, I suck my finger, closing my eyes and try to regulate my breathing through my rising anger. Tito nudges my other hand, his little eyes scrunched up in worry.
“I know, buddy, I’m okay, I promise. I just needed a hot shower tonight, and I don’t think it’s gonna happen.” I pat Tito’s head to console his concern over me.
There is a rising sense of dread in my chest at the thought of needing to go back to Dravik and explain that I couldn’t get the access panel off to even get started.
His face drifts into my mind. A jaw so sharp it could slice bread.
Abs popping out everywhere, leading down to a “v” shape that could stop traffic.
My god, the man looked like a bronzed statue.
His hazel eyes saw my body. I could tell by the way he looked me up and down and back again that he knew I looked good.
Just the memory of that look is making my thighs clench.
And then he opened his mouth.
The only redeeming quality was his cute dog and the fact that he remembered to offer me something to drink. Swallowing my pride to ask for help from a man like him, who clearly loves his solitude, is not high on the list of things I am looking forward to.
There is a sudden scratching at the door, causing me to turn my neck so fast I hear it crick.
Oddly enough, Tito bounces over to the seam in the floor, wagging his tail furiously and scratching back.
Normally, his hair would be on end, and his little “big” dog bark would come out, but he seems excited.
“Missy!” A voice is calling out in the distance that I recognize, deep and gruff.
“Oh shit, shit, shit!” I launch myself off the floor and fly into the bathroom, giving myself a quick once-over.
A cheek pinch here, swipe of gloss there, swish of mouthwash, and just as I tuck the loose braid back into my top knot, I hear the door. I have no time to put on a bra or change out of my thin pajamas, so I grab my long duster cardigan, wrapping it around myself.
“Who is it?” I call out, knowing damn well who it is.
His throat clears, as though trying to dislodge the gravel from it. “Dravik.” No explanation follows. Figures.
I suck in three deep breaths, trying to calm myself before I open the door.
He’s standing in the shadows, the light from the door landing on the three open buttons from his worn denim shirt tucked into low-slung jeans.
His neck bobs as he swallows, drawing my attention to the corded muscles.
I’m frozen in the doorframe, unable to move or say anything, but luckily, Missy saves me as she jumps up to greet me before zooming into the house as she and Tito crash into each other with joy.
It's my turn to clear my throat and step aside for him to come in. I grip my sweater tighter around me, my nipples hard peaks under my shirt, so hard he nearly brushes them as he steps inside. It’s just the cold air. It’s not like my body is responding to him in any type of way whatsoever. None.
“How did you know which cabin I was in?” I try to keep my voice light, but underneath a slight edge pokes through. Uninvited guests aren’t my favorite, especially gruff strangers.
He points to Missy. “We had barely pulled into the visitor lot when she ran out of the truck and made a beeline for your door.” His smile reaches his eyes as he gazes at our dogs, who are currently zooming over every inch of furniture in the small cabin.
I can’t help but smile at them, too. They make it look so easy to connect with someone else, when, despite my best efforts to connect with anyone in this town, I’m getting the cold shoulder. Story of my life, really.
Dravik’s eyes pull away from the dogs and land on the pile of tools on the floor where the water heater is, and I notice the expression on his face is blank, as though he is making an effort not to show his true feelings on what he’s seeing.
“So…” He gestures lamely to the water heater. “How’s it coming along?” His arms are crossed in front of him, his eyes darting from me to the dogs, to the tools on the floor, and back again, nervous energy dripping off of him.
“Well, I’m actually glad you’re here because I’ve been stuck trying to pry the access panel off for nearly an hour, and that’s as far as I’ve gotten.
” My lips twist into a wry smile, and I hold up a finger before he can respond.
“But, for the record, I know how to install it; I just think that panel is super-glued or something.”
His body nearly sags with relief at my words, but he just nods. “Yeah, these old models are notorious for getting stuck. Do you mind if I give it a shot?”
“Sure, go ahead. You want some tea or coffee?” Least I can do is be a good host while he’s here.
“Tea would be great, thanks.” He’s already kneeling in front of the water heater, deft fingers feeling along the edge of the panel searching for the catch.
I look away and focus on the kettle; those fingers are giving me ideas that are just going to rile me up.
The man is here to install a water heater part, not install his dick in your vagina, Simone!
My vagina clenches in response to my admonishment, and before I can stop myself, a whine releases from my throat.
I try to cover it up with a hum, as though I always hum when making tea.
Lies. I have no control over my eyes either, because they glance sideways at Dravik, his pert ass is nearly in the air as he leans forward to disconnect the old part.
As I bring his steaming mug of tea to him, I realize I let go of my cardigan, and before I can snatch it back up in my hands, he’s already lifting his to reach for the cup.
They freeze in the air, inches from the mug, eyes trained on my nipples, which are not only poking through my shirt, but are also as visible as if I were naked, due to the fact that my shirt is transparent.
My breath hitches in my throat, and I decide that I will pretend I am not basically flashing this man. “Here you go.” My voice is strangled.
So much for pretending. But he isn’t looking away. Instead, his hands automatically accept the cup, as if the heat is nothing, eyes darting from nipple to nipple. His gaze is electrifying, and the clenching need is growing inside me.
“Thank you.” His response is a whisper, tight with need. Or maybe it’s my imagination. Maybe he is embarrassed for me. That must be it. He thinks I’m insane.
I turn away, back toward the kitchen, but before I can take one step, his hand grabs my wrist, anchoring me in place. “Simone, wait.” The cup is on the ground, and he’s still kneeling, now in front of me as though in prayer.
“Please, don’t be afraid, but I can’t hold back when I’m around you.”
His skin is deepening in color as he speaks, crimson spreading from his cheekbones down his neck and into his shirt.
I step back from him, almost falling over to back away as the shirt itself is ripped away by massive black wings sprouting from behind.
His head dips forward in an effort to make himself smaller, but all I see are horns extending from his forehead.
His knuckles are pressed into the floor, the deep burgundy on his forearms giving way to black inkier than the night sky on his fingers. The jeans and denim shirt are nothing more than shredded strips at this point, burst open by the bulging corded muscles that put his human physique to shame.