READ AN EXCERPT BELOW
After photographer Brooke gets trapped on the side of a mountain during a dangerous snowstorm, she’s shocked to wake up the next morning in an unfamiliar bed — and soon realizes that she’s been rescued by grumpy lumberjack Beau. Neither expect the romance that’s growing between them and both harbor secrets that could destroy everything…
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“How long were you watching?” His already deep voice drops even more.
“Tell me, Brooke. How long?”
The air thickens between us, and the memory of gaping at him as he stroked his hard length completely fills my mind, pushing out all of my best attempts to keep it locked away. “Long enough.”
“Why didn’t you leave right away?”
Good God, he’s going to make me say it?
I lower my hands and look over to find him watching me closely, waiting for an answer. And while I could lie, I could make an excuse for what I did, staring at the man who saved my life, the man who comforted me through that horrific nightmare, who has clothed me and fed me and let me invade his personal space, I can’t bring myself to.
“Because I liked what I saw.”
Heat floods my body. It has nothing to do with the fire beside us and everything to do with the way his hooded russet eyes assess me after my confession.
“You liked watching me stroke my cock?”
Liked isn’t a strong enough word.
The vivid image flashes in my head again, and I nod slowly, biting my lip to prevent a little moan from escaping. “Yes.”
Dammit.
The word comes soft and breathy—almost desperate in a way I hate.
Beau doesn’t react, just sits stock straight, his heated gaze raking over me in a way that makes it impossible to look at him. I avert my eyes down to his lap and the obvious bulge forming there.
“I…heard you, too.”
Hell. Why did I just admit that?
“What did you hear?”
The way he asks the question, like my answer will somehow change everything, has me lifting my focus back to him and shifting toward him slightly when I should really be moving away, closing myself off from him and where I think this might lead. “You, say my name.”
His eyes burn even brighter now, searing my skin as if he were pressing a flame directly against it, marking me somehow with just a look. “You’re the first woman who has ever slept in that bed. The first woman I’ve laid in any bed with for ten years, Brooke. But even if it hadn’t been that long, I still would have woken up with my dick hard. You’re a beautiful woman, Brooke.” He swallows thickly. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t control myself. I’m sorry if it offended you. Sorry it’s going to complicate your stay here.”
“Beau, I assure you, I wasn’t offended…”
The admission slips from my lips before I can stop it, and his jaw hardens, like he’s fighting the urge to say or do something he thinks would lead to something neither of us should want.
“It turned you on?” He asks it so low, his voice so rough, that it almost doesn’t even sound like the question came from the man I’ve spent the last few days with.
And it’s the understatement of the year…
It had been so long since I’d felt like that, since my body had responded so fully to a man in that way that it felt foreign and new. Almost magical. Another truth I should keep from him but that I, somehow, can’t withhold.
“Watching you touch yourself while thinking about me was probably the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”
His eyes widen slightly, hands tensing on his thighs. “Really?”
How does Beau not know how hot he is?
I would tell him—after all, I’ve already revealed way too much as it is—but I can’t seem to find any words. Instead, I just nod.
One of Beau’s eyebrows rises slowly. “Then why did you run back in the bedroom? Why did you run away?”
When he puts it that way, I can see how he might think I was appalled or angry or offended by what I had seen. But running away was for my own good, not because he did anything wrong.
“Because I-I was embarrassed about spying, about watching you do something so private that you never intended for me to see.”
I was embarrassed by how badly I wanted to join you in that shower.
“You’re right, Brooke. I never intended for you to see that. But you did.”
“I sure did.”
He watches me for another moment, analyzing my face as if it will reveal something he longs to learn, as if he’s searching for some truth. “What did you do when you went back in that room, Brooke?”
Oh, God, he knows.
He fucking knows.
The heat flooding my cheeks now isn’t from the fire, or even the embarrassment of Beau knowing what I did. It’s the way he’s looking at me, like a starved man who sees a meal in front of him. One he’s ready to devour.
Only, I’m not afraid of him.
Not even a little.
