even more and an answering pulse began to beat at the apex of her thighs. She was tempted then, so tempted to slip her hand between them, to try and ease the ache that was building there.
She closed her eyes, biting her lip as she let herself do it. Just for a moment. Her fingertips grazing her sensitized flesh as she gave herself over to the image of his lips pressing against hers.
“Gage,” she gasped.
And it was that, his name, that hard slap of reality, that saw her removing her hand and launching herself straight out of the tub.
No. This was too much. There was crazy—which, agreeing to work for him to pay off the debt she hadn’t even wanted, possibly was—and then there was just insanity. Fantasizing about the man who had caused her accident, who was responsible for each and every scar on her body was insanity.
She looked at herself in the mirror again, allowed her fingertips to trace the ruined skin, rather than that lying, treacherous part of herself that was so needy for a man it would even allow her to fantasize about the man who had harmed her. This was what she needed to remember. That he was responsible for this pain. Not just the scars, but everything that had come after it.
Her mother leaving. Jonathan being put in the position where he had to assume the responsibility of raising her.
He had come in and accused her of being guarded. Of pushing people away.
She did it because of these. These scars. She moved her fingertips over a particularly ugly one just beneath her breast. That did it. It cooled her arousal.
She wouldn’t think of him like that again. And if he ever laid a hand on her again, she would remove it.
She grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her body, nodding once at her reflection and walking out of the bathroom. Gage West was already far too big in her existence. She would not allow him to loom any larger.
CHAPTER EIGHT
IT WAS STARTING to get dark outside, and Gage entertained the momentary thought of sending a search party out for Rebecca. Then, he imagined the indignity that she would feel if he did. The idea made him smile.
A little bit perverse, sure, but Rebecca Bear was a hellcat. It kind of amused him. He had definitely expected her to be slightly more downtrodden than she was. But she was all fight. Which, in the grand scheme of things, wasn’t the best thing for her. In his opinion, she would be better served fighting against actual enemies, instead of just being angry. Particularly at people who were trying to help.
Just as he was seriously thinking he was going to have to make sure she was okay, he heard footsteps on his porch. Followed by a knock that was incredibly surly.
There she was.
He crossed the expansive space and went to the door, pulling it open and looking at the small, indignant woman standing there. Her arms were crossed tightly across her midsection, her dark eyebrows lowered, her lips set into a frown.
“Hi,” he said, standing to the side.
She glowered, not offering him a greeting in return, as she walked into the house. She unzipped her jacket, taking it off and holding it out. He took it from her, hanging it on the peg that was just behind her.
He didn’t see any point in commenting on her bad attitude. First of all, because it was kind of funny to watch her behave like an unhappy teenager. Second of all, because she was more than entitled.
“Why don’t you come upstairs with me,” he said, turning and heading toward the staircase. He did not hear her footsteps behind him. He turned slightly. “I’m not going to bite you.”
Her lip curled and she arched her neck to the side, dragging a fingertip over a perforated line of flesh. “Too late.”
His stomach tightened. “Fair enough.”
He walked up the stairs, and this time, he heard her following behind. He paused at the top, looking down at her, part way up the stairs, and at the view of the rest of the house. It was nothing like his childhood home, not glossy or marbled in the least. But, it was also completely different to the motels he had spent the past seventeen years inhabiting.
The high ceilings, large windows that overlooked the view of the lake and the natural wood beams were a happy marriage between the moneyed lifestyle he had grown up in,