Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 54803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
She opens my freezer. I bristle at having her in my kitchen, in the space Jen used to occupy, but then I have another problem.
“Wow. So trout and blueberries. Do you eat anything else?”
I cringe inwardly. My freezer is packed with bear food. It probably looks strange to a human.
“I eat bacon,” I grunt, flipping the pancakes. “And pancakes.” Then, to distract her, I say, “How are you feeling today? Any numbness or pain in your fingers or toes? Ears? Tip of your nose?” I didn’t see anything that looked like frostbite last night, but I also was in a hurry to get her in the sleeping bag and warmed up, so it’s not like I gave her a thorough examination.
And that thought shouldn’t give me a throbbing hard on, but it does.
My nostrils flare and I swivel my hips more firmly away from her so she won’t see her effect on me.
“Um, no. I think I’m okay. Thanks to you.”
Her hesitant gratitude creates a surprising warmth in my chest. Which is dumb. I certainly didn’t expect or desire her thanks.
“I’m not even going to ask what the hell you were doing out there, because I’m pretty sure it’s gonna make me want to turn you over my knee.”
She draws in a sharp breath.
Oh fuck. I shouldn’t have said that.
I give her my back, turning the bacon, piling pancakes onto a plate and tossing one down to her dog. Over the scent of the bacon and pancakes, I catch her scent.
That sweet arousal.
Fuck me now.
Seriously? She’s turned on by my comment? I didn’t need to know that.
I really didn’t.
Because now I can’t stop thinking about just how much I’d love to bend her over and smack that ass red for nearly freezing to death.
“That was entirely inappropriate.” Her voice sounds strangled.
I’m not asshole enough not to turn around now. I find her cheeks flushed pink, eyes snapping. The way her chest rises and falls too quickly makes me think of how I’d like to make her lose her breath in other ways.
“You’re right,” I admit. “I’m a dick. And I don’t get company too often. I’m rusty on what to say to a woman I stripped naked but didn’t fuck.”
Oh for fates’ sake! Now I’m really digging a hole.
The scent of her arousal grows stronger. “Okay, probably you’d better stop before it gets worse,” she warns and I’m surprised to feel my lips quirk at the edges.
My cock lengthens down the leg of my jeans.
“Who are you?” she demands suddenly, like she senses my differences. That I’m an entirely different species from her.
I turn back to the stove, pouring three neat circles of batter on the frying pan and dropping frozen blueberries onto them. “I’m no one.”
Of course that sounds entirely suspicious. The scent of her arousal disappears, replaced the metallic scent of fear.
She’s probably been warned about that missing women up here. Does she think I’m the killer?
I rack my brain to think of something to say that will put her at ease, but nothing occurs to me. All I can think to do is to make breakfast and keep my mouth shut. I put a coffee pot onto brew, then scoop the first package of bacon out of the frying pan and put in another. “Here,” I grunt, dropping the plate piled high with pancakes and a plate with bacon onto the small table that sits by the window. The window which is halfway covered by a snowdrift. Her dog follows closely, pleading eyes on me.
“You must be hungry.” I slide the plate of butter onto the table, along with the jug of honey.
She stands over the table while I pour some coffee, her nervous energy making me want to go back into hibernation. It’s my default response to anything that requires emotion. Or effort. Or any spark of living.
I hand her a plate and fork and lift my chin to the chair at the table. She takes them wordlessly and sits down. I toss a piece of bacon to the dog, sit down across from her and slather my pile of pancakes with honey.
She watches me dubiously. “Sweet tooth, eh?”
I look down at the amount of honey on the cakes as I take a huge bite. I suppose it is a lot. I shrug. “I guess,” I say with my mouth full. “I like honey.”
I think I detect amusement in her expression, but we eat without speaking. I shouldn’t care whether she likes the food or not, but my bear is stupidly pleased when she cleans her plate and reaches for seconds.
“Well, what now? I don’t suppose you have a snowmobile here? Or some other way for me to get back to the research cabin?”
I get up and retrieve the second batch of bacon and set it on the table. “Doctor M, you’re not going anywhere.”