Chapter 2
Friday 6.46pm
Brooke
If knowing at some point I have to offer him my bed was awkward enough, constantly saying ridiculous things while he quietly smolders hotter than the fire, are making it a billion times worse.
He accepts the tea I pour for him, takes a sip, all with a disinterested look that lets me know he’s being polite and can’t wait to get out of here.
I need to find a way to make this work for us both. If I can make his stay enjoyable, his little impromptu sleepover might actually be beneficial.
He must have contacts, know people in town, and if there’s anything I need right now, is for some good reports about Aunt Jane’s house to be circulating rather than all the gossip.
I don’t even look at him when the timer beside the oven goes off. I just slide out of my chair and grab the oven mitts so I can check on the pie.
He’s probably heard all kinds of stories about me, probably thinks I’m as mad as everyone always thought my aunt was.
And as much as I’d like him to think better of me than I suspect he does, I need to remember he’s only here because he has nowhere else to go.
The oven door makes a hideous grinding noise as I open it. Heat wafts up as I kick the door closed and balance the pie until I can place it on the countertop.
I turn around and find him restlessly tapping his finger on the table. He looks so uncomfortable sitting there; everything inside me wants to put him at ease.
“What would you like for dinner?”
His eyebrows rise as he sits up a little straighter. “Anything you have is fine.”
I shrug and take a seat beside him. “I wasn’t expecting anyone, so I don’t have a lot. But I can make you a steak? Mashed potatoes? Green beans? Carrots?”
The tiniest of smiles touches his face. “Sounds great. And since I’m inconveniencing you, how about I see if I can fix a few things while I’m here?”
My own lips curl into a smile. “A trade?”
He nods and takes a larger sip of his tea. “Just don’t tell Andy I’m working for food.”
From my dealings with Andy, I can’t see him minding given the circumstances, but I agree and extend my hand across the table.
He accepts my handshake, his fingers still carrying cold, skin calloused on his palms as he gently pumps my arm.
My skin starts to tingle, breathing starting to increase as he relaxes his grip.
Instead of releasing my hand, Carter’s fingers curl over mine as his eyes hold me captive. “And for what it's worth, I don’t think it’s crazy you want to turn this place into a B&B.”
I’m too stunned to speak as he releases my hand. “It’ll take a lot of work to bring up to compliance, and you’ve got your work cut out for you this time of year.”
His eyes meet mine, and my heart starts to thump a little faster as I pull my hand back.
He takes another gulp of his tea, the slightest of frowns appearing as he places the mug down. “In a town this small you’ll struggle to find contractors who’ll work through winter.”
My stomach starts to flip about as I dare to ask the one question I’m terrified to. “What about you? Do you work over winter?”
His eyes narrow, but he slowly nods. “If you need me to, I can make that happen.”
He keeps looking me dead in the eye until I can’t breathe for the tension between us.
I want to ask him what else he can make happen.
I want to ask if a Mrs. Fixit is worrying he hasn’t come home yet.
He angles his head, peering at me as though I’m something broken he needs to mend.
But it’s not me he’s thinking about. His lips curl into a cheeky grin as he gestures to the pie. “For a slice of that pie you made, I’ll check out the boiler Andy said needed fixing.”
I roll my eyes and force my grin away. “You’ll spoil your appetite,” I chide.
He chuckles and shifts a little closer. All the mirth leaves the room when his voice drops a couple decibels. “You don’t know how big my appetite is yet.”
Heat starts to blaze around my body. I suck in a breath and don’t know whether to release it or hold it until I can tell whether he’s just messing around.
But he’s not looking away. He’s staring at me, making me squirm as my head starts filling with ridiculous notions I should be ashamed to have.
When stars prickle at my eyes, and my head feels light, I let out the breath and try for a smile to lighten the mood.
“Well. Aunt Jane has an amazing collection of wine. Why don’t I grab a bottle?”
I don’t even wait for him to answer, just hurry out of the room, heart crashing about in my chest as I escape before I do something irreversible.
I make it to the hallway, where the air is cooler and slump against the wall muttering to myself as I try to calm down.
Maybe he didn’t mean it the way it came out? Or maybe I’m misreading what he said?
I run my hands over my face and head to the cupboard under the stairs where dozens of dusty bottles of wine have been stored.
My cheeks are still burning when I switch the light on and grab a bottle of red and a bottle of white.
I tuck one under my arm and pull the light cord to switch off the light. I’m almost at the kitchen when I have to steel myself for his presence and what it’s doing to me.
I pull my shoulders back, put on my game face and promise that no matter what else he says, to get through this night, I’ll be nothing more than a good host.
***
Carter
She steps back inside the room with two bottles of wine and an uneasy smile on her pretty face.
I should probably apologize for flirting with her. Fuck knows why I said that. It makes no damn sense to stir something up. Especially since her Dad and Andy are old friends.
But shit, everything about her is tantalizing. From the way she looks to the offer to cook me a steak and the pie she’s baked.
She’s as close to my ideal woman as I could possibly imagine. And I’m a complete bastard for even considering kissing her.
And if I really thought she wasn’t interested, I’d leave it. But blizzards don’t disappear overnight, so this little sleepover is unlikely to end tomorrow morning.
She’s pointedly ignoring me as she opens the ancient refrigerator and pulls out a couple of steaks.
I watch her as she starts to get to work peeling potatoes. “How do you like your steak cooked?”
I twist the bottle around so I can read the label before I answer. “Rare is my preference, but I’ll take it any way it comes.”
She nods and carries on peeling. “Could you open the red? The glasses are in the cabinet.”
My eyebrows rise as she twists and looks over her shoulder. “If you don’t mind, I mean? I like having a glass when I cook. Open the white too if you’d prefer it.”
She snaps her head forward again before I can acknowledge I’m okay with the red too.
I open the cabinet, standing so close to her; I can see the faint splattering of freckles on her nose.
I linger, taking my time just so I can watch her work. If it weren’t for the flush creeping over her cheeks and the way her breathing is speeding up, I’d think she wasn’t even aware of me.
When she finally looks at me, warm dark eyes narrowed, full lips pursed, I know I’m not going to check myself for much longer.
She opens her mouth slightly like she’s about to say something, but she just holds my gaze as the second’s tick past.
Finally, she gestures to the glasses I’m holding. “Um, wine?”
She returns to peeling the potatoes and chopping them, leaving me no choice but to step away from her.
I open the wine and pour two glasses and place hers on the windowsill so she can reach it.
I sip my wine, leaning against the counter where she’s working and try to figure her out.
She’s not the dormouse people are saying she is. Sure, she’s sweet, hospitable, and I know Andy thinks highly of her, but I don’t take her for someone who’d be easily duped.
I want to ask her to tell me what happened but decide against it. She deserves her privacy, and if anyone understands that, it’s me.
She works quickly, sipping her wine as she puts the vegetables into two separate pots.
I drink my wine in gulps, wondering how’d she react if I just leaned down and kissed her right now.
Brooke grabs her glass and gives me a tentative smile as she takes a large swallow.
Her fingers are trembling as she backs away from me and pulls out a frying pan.
Fighting my instincts, I grab the bottle and take a seat back at the table, watching the snowfall outside the window in an attempt to quit staring at her.
It doesn’t take long for my attention to return to her when she leans over the table to place plates and cutlery, giving me a good view of her bra.
My entire body reacts as I admire the view for far too long. When she freezes, I don’t need to look up to see I’ve been caught leering like a teenager.
She doesn’t say a word, but her lips press tightly together, and her posture stiffens.
I’m not sure whether to apologize or just pretend it didn’t happen like she seems to be.
If I was a half-decent man. I would. But I’m itching to touch her. To find out if she’d feel as good underneath me as I think she would.
It’s beyond stupid, but when she drains her glass, I get to my feet, grab the wine bottle and know at some point tonight I’m going to offer her more than wine.
***
Brooke
He pours me more wine then tops up his own all with his eyes locked on me with such intensity, such purpose, my skin starts to tingle.
If I doubted his level of interest matched mine, catching him looking down my top with appreciation was confirmation enough.
My breath catches in my chest as I turn my back to him and start to tidy up the peelings.
I can feel his eyes on me as he speaks. “Is there anything you want me to do?”
Heat rushes through my body at the question. There are so many things I want him to do. None of which involve making dinner in the kitchen. Most of which include me taking him upstairs.
My voice comes out too throaty when I reply. “No, you’re fine.” I groan and hurry to correct myself. “I mean, you’re my guest, you can just relax.”
I throw the scraps into the compost and turn to switch the pans on.
He blocks me, eyes drifting lower so he’s looking at my lips. My pulse speeds as Carter’s lips twitch into the tiniest of smiles.
I’m caught between surprise, delight, and desire when he leans close enough to kiss me.
Our lips are a whisper apart; my skin is tingling in anticipation when Carter pulls away and jerks his head at the stove. “The water’s boiling.”
It takes me a few seconds to figure out what he’s saying. I stare mutely at him, trying to control my breathing until I hear the tell-tale rattle of pot lids.
My heart is still thudding in my chest when he steps towards the stove. “How about I take over?”
I just gawk at him as my knees buckle and I nearly fall into the closest chair. “I can’t let you do that…" I manage to say.
He half-smiles at me as he collects my wine and hands it to me. “Too late. I’m already doing it.”
With nothing to do but watch him, I sip my wine and see if he can manage the monstrous beast that is the woodstove.
His movements are measured, and he looks like he’s entirely at home cooking on the antiquated stove.
He doesn’t look to me once for instruction, just finds everything he needs, while drinking his wine.
I don’t know whether it’s the wine, having someone cook for me, or that my skin is on fire, but wild thoughts are running through my mind.
He strips off his plaid shirt, giving me a view of muscle and ink work under the sleeves of his t-shirt.
I struggle to breathe as he mashes the potatoes almost violently so they end up whipped.
He turns, and half-smiles at me. “How’d you want your steak?”
I mumble a reply, and he goes back to cooking without a word.
By the time he places my meal in front of me, and we’ve managed to drink a bottle of wine, all my appetite for food has been entirely replaced by lust.
My movements are wooden as I cut into the steak. It’s difficult to enjoy the meal we somehow produced together when he’s eating and watching me.
I chew the tender steak, swallow the creamy potatoes, the buttered carrots and don’t really enjoy any of it as I try to stop my thoughts wandering.
He drains the last drop of his wine and finishes his plate. His eyes shift to mine, a frown growing as he sees I’ve not polished off everything. “You weren’t hungry? Or you think my cooking was terrible?”
I nearly choke on my food as I shake my head. “Neither. I’m just surprised you know your way around a woodstove so well.”
He sits back so he’s reclining in his chair. He spins the glass around and eyes me. “Andy has one. His wife and kids taught me when I first moved here.”
My eyebrows raise that Carter has such a close relationship with my father’s childhood friend. Has he really been under my nose all this time?
“I’m surprised we haven’t run into each other,” I say.
He shrugs. “There’s been a lot of work out in Portersfield. I haven’t been in town much over the last few months.”
I’m trying to think of something else to say when the lights flicker above me.
Carter raises an eyebrow. “I hope you have candles? I think we’re about to lose power.”
I swallow hard and force a brittle smile as I consider where the candles are stored. “I do. They’re upstairs.”
I rise, and he’s quick to join me, standing so close all the hairs at the back of my neck stand on end.
My heart is thumping in my chest as we start to walk slowly up the rickety stairs, his hand is at the small of my back as though he’s steering me where he wants me to go.
At the landing, the lights flicker again and emit a low hum before we’re cloaked in darkness.
His hands grip me around the waist. “Where are the candles kept?”
I swallow, pulse racing as my eyes adjust to the darkness. I’m almost dizzy with desire as I find my voice. “In my bedroom.”
In the dark, I’m sure I hear a smile through his words. “Better go get them then.”
His hands don’t stray from my back as I edge towards my bedroom. A shiver runs down my spine as frigid air seeps through my clothing.
With Carter right beside me, I grab the closest candles, and with shaking hands, light several.
Carter’s voice comes from behind me. “Let me light the fire.”
He strikes a match, and the pinecones in the hearth blaze to life illuminating him. I wait, breathless, watching him as he skillfully builds a fire until it’s roaring hot enough for heat to be piercing the chill.
Carter rises to his feet slowly, eyes on me as he places his hand on my back again.
I don’t protest when his mouth finds mine, and he gently pulls the tie holding my hair back.
With a groan, I press closer so my breasts are crushed against his solid chest. I taste wine as his tongue finds mine, caressing me until his mouth sends shivers down my spine.
My hands wrap around his waist as he runs his hands down my ass, kissing me so deeply, so deftly, my nipples harden, and I start to moan in expectation.
I let my hand creep under his shirt until I’m brushing my fingertips down his stomach muscles.
He runs his hands through my hair and kisses me harder. My hands are tugging at his t-shirt, unbuttoning his jeans as our bodies press closer together.
With a growled curse, Carter steps out of his boots, yanks off his shirt and slowly starts to lift my shirt until it’s over my head.
My mouth starts to water as I look at his sculptured upper body. He’s delicious enough to eat. He’s covered in tattoos; his muscles are as hard and as firm as I thought they’d be.
I lean forward so I can trail my fingers across his broad chest.
He places his hands on my hips as I press hungry kisses to his skin, flicking my tongue over his torso until I’m nearly moaning from desire.
I flick the covers to one side and sit on the bed so I can kick my shoes off and fumble with my jeans he shrugs out of his own.
I scoot back and pull him onto my bed so he’s lying on top of me. I kiss him, running my hands over his back and arms.
His breath is hot as he flicks his tongue in my ear then starts to suck my earlobe. I shiver and groan as pleasure runs through my body.
I can feel his hard cock pressing into me when he shifts so he can undo my bra.
Cold air caresses my skin making my nipples stiffen. His lip curls at the corner then he starts to lick my nipple, shifting so both are moist and hard.
He rolls down me, half covered by the bedding as he starts to tug off my panties.
I don’t have time to think before he’s pushing my legs apart and using his tongue.
My back arches as he works his tongue until I’m starting to pant like a wild animal.
His hands roam over my body until he’s fingering my nipples, rubbing them back and forth until I explode in his mouth.
I’m still gasping for breath when I grab his cock and start to stroke his shaft until he’s as slippery as I am.
He groans as I shift so I’m on my knees so I can take his cock in my mouth. I slide my tongue over his tip as he grabs my hair and guides me deeper.
My fingertips run over his balls, nails teasing him as he starts to curse and grip my head harder.
He tugs my hair so I’m looking up at him. “Come here,” he growls.
I don’t resist when Carter grabs me around the waist and pulls me up so we’re eye to eye.
We kiss, tongues colliding as his fingers part me again. I open my legs wider, slick with need as he inserts a finger inside me, sliding in and out until I’m desperate for the real thing.
I take his cock in my hand and finger the tip until he’s moaning louder than I am.
I kiss him again, sucking his tongue when he pushes me down and slides his cock in me.
I gasp in his ear, pleasure surging through me as he starts to pump me slow and steady. “Harder,” I pant.
He growls and grabs me by the waist so I’m on top of him.
He releases me and places his hands behind his head, a teasing look on his face. “Not yet, you want it hard now, you do the work.”
I’m too horny to be irritated, so I do what he says and ride him as hard and as fast as I can.
His hands caress my breasts, his touch stealing my breath as he fingers my nipples, teasing them, tugging them gently, making me writhe in pleasure.
I’m still in the afterglow of orgasm when he grabs me and pushes me on all fours.
He enters me again, and this time, he pounds hard and fast as he grabs my hips and squeezes.
My nipples rub against the soft sheets; my mouth opens as over his moans, my own cries of pleasure escape.
I’m making guttural, primal, animal noises as I climax so hard, black closes in around me.
I collapse on my forearms, legs spread wide as he drives me deeper and harder until he’s shuddering and calling my name.
He lands on top of me, a pile of limbs, hard muscle and soft skin as we lie, panting, gasping, trying to recover.
When my heart has slowed a little, Carter moves off me and lies beside me.
He pushes my hair over my shoulder, presses a kiss to my shoulder and draws me closer.
His stubble is rough against my lips as he pushes his tongue deeper inside my mouth.
As I twist my tongue with his, I know, deep down that this is probably going to be a huge mistake.
But considering how interested he was in making sure I’m satisfied, I’m not sure I care right now.
I keep kissing him and try to forget that this little tryst, however incredible, could potentially end up being very, very, awkward come morning.
