Swallowing a lump of apprehension, Jaye avoided a coiled extension cord, knocked on the back door, and walked inside.
Nothing looked familiar. The old kitchen was gone. In its place were gleaming cherry cabinets, new countertops, and sleek stainless-steel appliances. A wall no longer separated the kitchen from the living room. Now both spaces created one large, open great room.
She stared at the transformation like a whistle pig frozen in the glare of oncoming headlights. Had Mitch renovated his kitchen for her?
There was no way to find out. The man who lived here was nowhere in sight.
Laying her coat over a new kitchen chair, she wound her way into the hallway leading to his bedroom. The door was open and the light was on, so she stepped into his private refuge. The room contained an attractive set of furniture stained a dark, masculine chestnut hue that contrasted nicely with the soothing taupe painted on the walls. Plush carpet covered the floor. Jaye stepped out of her shoes and wiggled her toes on the soft rug.
Mitch strode out of the bathroom, caught sight of her, and stopped beside the bureau.
His blond hair looked a dark caramel, damp from a recent shower. A towel hung low around his trim waist. Light from the bedside lamp slanted across his torso, highlighting the scar across his collarbone.
A man who’d thrown himself in front of a car to pull a boy to safety. She had a feeling he’d do the same thing to keep her safe.
“I let myself in like you told me to.” She ripped her gaze from his chest and gestured toward the door. “You’ve been busy since I left. The kitchen looks amazing.”
His expression was as hard and unyielding as one of his glass sculptures, beautiful yet locked away behind some heavy curtain.
Her throat stopped working, no longer able to swallow. Something was wrong.
Had he changed his mind? For a horrible moment, a small voice whispered that if her parents didn’t want her, why would he?
“Yesterday was a huge mistake. I never should’ve showed up like I did. Hell, I ripped apart your family.” With a brutal yank, he opened a drawer and pulled out a shirt. “I blindsided you. And your parents.”
She crushed the hem of her sweater in her fist. “Don’t feel guilty.”
“How can I not?” He tossed the shirt onto his bureau and braced his hands on his hips. “I asked you to pick between me or them. What kind of a choice is that, pixie?”
The sound of her nickname panicked her. A pixie would know how to chase the pain off his face, but Jaye could think of only one thing to say. She’d never had much luck with the words, but she hurried to him, framed his stony jaw in her hands, and blurted the only thing that mattered. “I love you, Mitch.”
“God, Jaye.” All the air whooshed out of him, and he gripped her waist with a ferocious squeeze. “I fucking adore you.”
He spoke not in a roar, or a growl, but a soft, coarse whisper. A peek inside his soul. Joy burst over her, warm as sunshine on her skin.
He kissed her, a hard, brief, possessive touch of his mouth, and rested the bridge of his nose against hers. “I need you so much, it fucking terrifies me.”
“I know, because the only time you curse is when you’re coming apart.” She smoothed her hands down his strong neck, loving the freshly-shaved feel of his skin and the passionate clench of his grip. “I need you, too.”
“I can’t wait anymore.” His mouth took hers, an all-out invasion that ended as abruptly as it began. He pulled the sweater over her head. “I want you. Now.”
Her slender abdomen touched his taut belly, skin-to-skin, and their next kiss got messy.
Teeth bumped.
Breath panted.
Tongues twined.
Needing more, Jaye unhooked her bra, let it fall to the floor, and hugged him tight so her soft breasts flattened against his hard chest.
“Good God.” Mitch took a stumbling step, righted himself, and breathed like a sprinter after a race, long gusts of air pummeling her neck.
Jaye closed her eyes, willing to hold him like this forever.
He pulled back and cold air whooshed up her bare torso. A hard tug freed the button at the waistline of her jeans and Mitch pushed the clothes off her lower half with a brusque, efficient swipe of his hands then ripped the covers off his bed.
He reminded her of the big shadow she’d seen in the woods when she’d first arrived so many weeks ago. Back then, she was frightened by the shadow’s ferocious silence.
This time, she wasn’t afraid.
Discarding his towel, he pulled her into the bed and pinned her arms over her head, trapping her beneath him.
Not liking being held down, she tried to wriggle out of his resolute grip.
Sexual urgency and maybe even something more intense carved resolute lines beside his mouth. “I want everything, Jaye. I want your love and your trust. I promise, sweetheart, I won’t hurt you. Let me be the only man you give in to.”
His gruff request couldn’t be more clear. From now on, Mitch wanted to be the only man in her life—not David, not her father, just him. She nodded, ready to tell him what she’d known all along. “You’re the only man I’ll run to.”
“You’re the only one I want. The only one I need.” He lay beside her, keeping a firm hold on her wrists, and skimmed blunt fingers down the center of her abdomen to the vee of her legs.
A deep throb ignited in her core. She glanced at the lamp, knowing the light spilling over their bed allowed Mitch to see everything—the hot blush of arousal across her chest, her nipples standing up in rigid attention, the wet cream seeping from her sex. More vulnerable than
