His eyes are bright and blue, piercing me, and his hair is the color of steel – catching the sunlight as he steps forward, his expression intense.
“Tanker, here. Here, boy.”
The dog turns and pads over to the man, sitting at his feet and letting his tongue loll out.
Looking past him, I let my eyes skim over the cabin.
It’s built over part of the lake, on stilts, with an inviting wooden exterior and lots of windows to make the summer light bounce and shimmer. The front door is open… meaning that this man is either an intruder, a lodger, or—
I let out an involuntarily gasp, and then immediately feel like the biggest dork idiot ever.
“What is it?” the man says, taking a step forward, Tanker lightly padding at his side.
“Nothing. I just… I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting anybody to be here.”
A light smirk touches his lips. I wonder how old he is. Forty, forty-five? Whatever the case, he’s so ripped and he looks so freaking dominating and carnal and hot, I don’t care.
I must look like a dorky twenty-something nothing to him.
“I was about to say the same thing.” He nods to the car, to the stuff piled up on the backseat. “Looks like you’ve packed half your life. Are you planning on moving out here?”
“No, I’m only here for a week. I’m Millie’s friend. Rayla. And I’m guessing you must be Roman? Are you?”
I need to stamp down on this silly excitement thundering through me, making my heart hammer in my chest, my skin tingle. My mind is doing silly things, like imagining what it would be like to have his arms wrapped around me, to collapse against him and rest my cheek against his chest and feel how solid he is.
“Yes, I’m Roman,” he says, making my belly tighten, a fierce ball of tension squeezing down.
Crap.
I’ve just been fantasizing about my best friend’s dad. That is not cool, not even close to being okay.
“Did Millie not mention we were coming?” I ask.
He waves a hand. “She might have. I’ve always found fiction easier to remember than reality. Where is she?”
“Her flight was canceled. She’s coming down tomorrow. She didn’t say you were going to be here though.”
“It was a last-minute decision, wasn’t it, boy?” He leans down and pats Tanker on the back of the head, not an easy feat for a man as huge as him and a dog as little as Tanker… but he moves athletically, easily, more like a fighter than a writer. “This place helps me think. The city doesn’t.”
“Oh.” I bite my lip, unable to stop my eyes from moving over the tight ropes of his arms, the tension which seems to swell inside of him with each moment. “So should head back to the airport or…”
He chuckles, shaking his head. The laughter doesn’t seem to reach his eyes. The thought that I’ve made him angry works its way into me, followed by another gut-punch sinking feeling that I’ve displeased him. But I shouldn’t want to please this man in any way.
So what if he’s hot. Super hot. Hotter than anybody I’ve ever laid eyes on. And so what if he’s sending crazy thoughts surging through my mind, like wondering what it would be like to claw onto the front of those gym shorts and rub, and keep rubbing until his manhood swells in my hand.
“It’s not your fault I’ve crashed your trip,” he says. “Come on in and I’ll show you the guest room. I don’t mind, honestly. I can always drive back tomorrow morning if I’m cramping your style too much.”
I nod, even if the thought of him driving back to the city makes me want to scream…
Stay, stay, stay, don’t leave. Don’t ever leave me.
I push the thought deep down where it belongs…
But even that is wrong. It doesn’t belong deep down inside of me or anywhere remotely near my mind. It’s the sort of thought I’d never dream of having about my best friend’s dad – before I laid eyes on him, before I drank in his hulking form and his bulging muscles, and that way he has of looking at me…
What way? A voice whispers. You’re imagining it.
I know I must be imagining, wishing the intensity of his eyes into existence, and yet there’s a part of me that can’t deny the tingles that move over my whole body as he consumes me with his gaze.
“Need help with your bags?” He strolls over to the car without waiting for my response, bringing with him his musky manly scent, my gaze flitting to the firmness of his arms. “Rayla?”
“Um, yeah, sure. Thank you.”
We carry the bags in together, Roman grabbing my suitcase as though it weighs nothing, causing the muscles in his arms to press against his skin, delicious outlines that cause even more traitorous desires to surge up inside of me.