He sets down the spoon, leaning over the table, the cocky smirk gone and replaced with an intensity that could set this room on fire.
I set my elbows on the table and lean in too. We’re inches apart, and I feel myself burning up. The cabin is nice and cozy, but his body radiates a heat I’ve never understood before.
“Justine Van De Shire, sue me for all I’m worth, send me to prison. It’s still worth it.”
I scoff, confused beyond all get out. “Why?”
“Because I know what kind of man you need, and it’s not the one who bought you.”
I glare at him, hot and bothered and royally pissed off. “And I suppose you know what kind of man I need?”
“I do.”
“Let me guess,” I say flatly. “I need a man like you?”
His eyes betray him for a fraction of a moment and I see a flicker of indecision flash between us, but then it’s replaced with a kind confidence I can’t crack. “Don’t worry, I didn’t bring you here to try and sleep with you, Justine.”
I swallow, feeling embarrassed to assume he brought me here to have his way with me. And in some strange Stockholm syndrome way—I wanted him to want me. “You didn’t?”
He shakes his head. “No, I brought you here to make sure you left Alaska a virgin.”Chapter 7RyderLocking eyes with her nearly kills me. I tell her I want her to leave a virgin, but the words are a damn lie. I want her, all of her.
Having Justine in my cabin brings out my feral instincts. The idea of another man taking her sweet innocence nearly breaks me. I love how she’s rooted in her convictions but soft in other ways.
And those brown eyes of hers are filled with a tenderness... a longing.
Dammit. They are filled with desire.
I know the look because I’m looking at her with the same hunger. The same primal instinct.
But I can’t say that as we sit across from one another. Hell, no. It would freak the shit out of this virtuous woman.
I don’t want her skittish, scared. I want to explain the truth of why she’s here, but not before she is ready to believe me.
And right now, she’s a roller-coaster of emotions. Half wanting to claw my eyes out and the other half... well, I’d like to believe the other half of her wants to strip me down to nothing and run her hands up and down my body.
But I’m not sure a woman like Justine has considered the filthy thoughts running through my mind. I could take her here, on this table. I’d sweep the table clear and push up that satin dress and press my mouth between her thighs. I’d lick her sweet pussy over until she dripped against me.
Then I’d ruin her for all other men, forever.
I’m so lost in my fantasy that my soup gets cold.
“Why do you care so much about what happens to me?” she asks pulling her eyes away from mine and tearing off a chunk of bread.
“The man who bought you doesn’t deserve your innocence.”
She sneers, ripping the bread in half, dipping it in her bowl of soup.
“You are such a stereotypical man, you get that, right?”
Now it’s my turn to scowl. “I am not a typical man.” I get up and open the fridge, grabbing two beers. I pop the caps and hand her one before taking a long pull on mine. I pride myself on being a forward-thinking man. “I may live off the grid, but I’m not backwoods. I support women’s rights, believe in equal pay and vote liberal. Hell, I don’t want anyone telling me what to do or where to do it and that means I don’t think anyone else should have that right either.”
She crosses her arms, her eyes dead-set against me. “Yet you think you know what I should do with my body.”
Righteous anger courses through me. “It’s different. Luther Morris is a goddamn creep.”
“And you know this how?”
I run a hand through my hair. “Because he’s my ex-stepfather.”
Her lips purse at the words. “Oh.”
“He wasn’t always so bad. But after my mom died...” I set down my beer. “Look, he sleeps with every twenty-year-old woman he meets. He takes them to his sex chamber and plays out his daddy fetish.”
Her eyes narrow. “Maybe I want to call someone daddy. You shouldn’t get to be the one to choose.”
My jaw tightens when she says the word, daddy. The truth is: I don’t want to imagine her saying anyone’s name but mine.
“He wouldn’t respect your body. He would treat you like a prize.”
She pushes away from the table dramatically as she stands. “But I am a prize. A trophy. That was the entire point of this auction.”
I stand too, walking over to her. Taking her by the elbow, I hold her still. “The idea of that man touching you. It fucking killed me, Justine.”