“Is this okay with you, Sophie?”
“Sure. Who doesn’t like the Beatles?” She relaxed on the sofa with a cup of Earl Gray tea and a worn paperback with a black cat on the cover.
“What are you reading?”
“A mystery. I devour these.” She glanced at his bookshelf in the living room. “You seem to like nonfiction.”
That was true. His bookshelves were filled with nonfiction adventures and travel stories, as well as countless guides and maps of the region. “When I read, I typically search for something practical.”
Her eyes widened. “You never want to escape into a story?”
He motioned to the books on survival accounts. “I escape into stories, only it’s something that happened.”
She made a sound of acknowledgment. “Truth is often stranger...” She took a sip of tea and returned to reading.
He gazed at her. Having her here was pleasant. No, it was more than that. It made him—content. He took a shower and when he returned, hair still wet, And I Love Her was playing.
Sophie gaped at him. “You look good wet.” She shook her head and rubbed between her brows. “Scratch that. It sounds weird.”
He grinned. “It sounded quite nice to me.” He sat on his favored brown recliner and picked up a book of puzzles. He flipped through the word scrambles and crossword puzzles he’d already filled out and found an empty Sudoku page. She returned to her book.
An hour or so went by. They hadn’t said much to each other, but her quiet presence was comforting.
She put down her book on the table. “I better take a shower before dinner.”
As she walked into the bedroom, his gaze dropped to her ass. It was almost impossible not to look whenever he had the chance.
While she showered, he tried not to think of her in there. He picked up the puzzle book and flipped to a crossword puzzle, but couldn’t focus on the clues. Sophie was naked in his cabin. Only a few inches of wood kept him from her.
He stepped into the kitchen and pulled a cold beer out of the fridge. Touching the glass bottle to his forehead, he hoped it would help him cool off. Don’t pounce on her, don’t pounce on her.
The sound of her voice came from the bathroom. She’d started singing, but he couldn’t place the song. How could he ignore her now? He listened to her sing and smiled. Even when she went off-key, it was practically a siren song to him.
When Sophie stepped out of the bedroom, his mouth fell open. She was stunning. Her hair was pinned up and loose tendrils framed her face. Her skin had a rosy glow as if she were as excited to see him as he was her.
And her dress. He groaned. The little black dress clung to her in all the right places—all those places he itched to touch.
Would she ever let him?
“You look good dry,” he teased. “But I wouldn’t mind seeing you wet.”
Chapter 8
Sophie
Sophie attempted to ignore Damon’s double entendre about being wet, but her cheeks burned. Even at dinner, over a pitcher of sangria and fajitas, his low sensual suggestion replayed in her head.
Maybe tonight.
To distract herself from thinking about sex with Damon, she asked him more about himself. Whenever he revealed a little about himself, he’d soon circle the conversation back to her. Frustrating. Yet, it increased her fascination with him.
Was he hiding something? If so, why?
Still, dinner was pleasant. His company was enjoyable—and those eyes. A couple of times, she caught his gaze from across the table—full of hunger and need. Nobody had ever looked at her that way. It left her knees shaky under the table.
Yes, tonight might be the night.
They returned to his cabin. He’d driven them down to the mountain village in his Jeep, although it was walkable. Still, she didn’t want to make the trek in a dress and heels. She wore a slinky black dress and heels that made her feel as sexy as Damon did with one of his intense looks.
As they walked from the Jeep to the front door, he held her hand. The simmering cinders rose within. Her heart quickened, nerves getting the best of her. It had been a long time since she’d had sex, and she’d never been with anyone who looked and made her feel the way Damon did.
The waxing moon loomed with a golden hue overhead. A crisp breeze fluttered across the snow, sending wisps of snow upwards in a quick turn of a dance. Then they settled again, floating back to the earth to rest. She breathed the clean mountain air, inhaling the heady scent of pine, so different from that of the city with that heavy congestion weighing down and light pollution occluding the stars. Here she could see hundreds if not thousands twinkling overhead.
“It’s so beautiful out here,” she remarked. “Magical.”
He motioned to the covered hot tub at the side of his house. “Want to have a drink under the moonlight?”
That was a great idea. They could start out here. Have a drink and relax. See where the night took them.
“That sounds perfect.” She bit her lip. “I’ll go change.”
His eyes brightened with that golden hue again as he stared at her with that hungry look.
She swallowed and glanced at the moon. “Your eyes,” she noted. “I’ve never seen any like them. They have this gold right now, similar to the moon.”
He replied with a nervous chuckle. That was an odd response. “Must be a trick of the moonlight.”
Maybe. But still, something didn’t seem right.
Inside the guest room, Sophie sucked in her stomach before looking into the mirror. Who did she think she was by braving herself to get into a bikini in the middle of February? She gazed at her winter body—pale and plump—and frowned. It definitely could use some tightening.
At least this string bikini flattered her breasts. The tropical design with red and white flowers on a black background
