sets down my suitcase and rummages around in his pocket for his keys.
“It was just a little mold,” I try to reason. Definitely not enough of it to sweep me off my feet and carry me outside like my whole place had gone up in flames.
He unlocks his door like I’m not even there. Like I’m not trying to hold an adult conversation with him.
“You don’t have to move me into your house just because of a little mold.”
He pushes the door open and stands aside, sweeping an arm to gesture me inside. I huff. Loudly.
“It’s really not a big deal, Walker.” I’m moments away from ripping my hair out. He’s so freaking difficult sometimes.
I glare at his handsome, stupid face. He holds my gaze unapologetically. He's not gonna back down about this. He simply cocks a brow, waiting for me to enter.
See? Bastard.
I roll my eyes and stomp into the half-renovated living room like an angry, petulant child.
I reach for my suitcase—the one he packed for me when he wouldn’t let me re-enter my own apartment—but he grabs for it at the same time as I do. When our fingertips touch, a herd of inappropriate memories about the things we did together in this house come storming in, trampling my resolve like wild horses.
The sensation of his breaths bursting rapidly at the curve of my neck.
The sinfully delicious sting of my bottom lip trapped between his teeth.
The undulating shudder of his torso clenching against mine as he pinned me to the mattress and pistoned into me.
The feel of his velvety tongue dipping into the crease of my ass...
Holy hell. It’s too warm in his rustic little cabin. It's like the walls are throbbing with reminders of the erotic nights we shared.
This—me staying here—is a really bad idea.
With my suitcase as his hostage, Walker stalks down the hall. I have no choice but to follow him while I struggle to ignore the curve of his ass in those tight Wrangler jeans.
"I know the way..." I call out snarkily from behind him. “I’ve slept in this bedroom before.”
Well, I’ve done a lot more than just sleep in this bedroom, actually. But those thoughts make me hot and sweaty and out of breath. Those thoughts need to go away, before I make a fool of myself. Man, these pregnancy hormones are out of control.
He drops my suitcase to the floor, just inside the door. “You’ll take the bed,” he utters. His first words to me since he peeled away from my building’s curb.
He moves around the room stiffly, flipping on the old lamp and then the fan in the corner. Talk about turndown service.
“There’s extra towels in the hall closet, right next to the bathroom door.” Walker glances around the small space. “If you get cold tonight, there are more blankets in the chest over there.” He gestures with his chin.
His cloudy brown eyes meet mine. If he’s waiting for a thank-you, he’s certainly not getting one from me. I give him my best death glare instead.
Finally, he cracks. His broad shoulders slump and he exhales with force. “I’m just trying to protect you, Penn.”
Damn him. Why does he have to be sugar-sweet? Makes me feel unreasonable for wanting to knee him in those baby-making balls?
Instead, I scowl and cross my arms over my chest as he continues. “You may not care about some mold but you should. Think about the baby. Think about the health risks. Wouldn't you rather err on the side of caution here?”
Damn him again. Damn him for being right.
I'll admit—breathing that god awful mold every day is probably bad news. Staying here at Walker’s cabin, just for a while is in my best interest—and the baby’s.
“This isn’t practical, Walker. Your cabin is virtually smaller than my place and you only have one bedroom here. Where are you even going to sleep?”
Internally, I'm begging him to respond, 'In the bed. With you.' I want to feel him spooned up behind me with an arm around my waist and his morning wood nestled against my ass.
Instead he says, ”On the couch."
"Your couch isn't comfortable."
"Don't worry about me," he says. When I pout some more, he grabs my hand, yanking me to his chest. Now I’m pressed firmly against that hard body I know so well. "Sleeping on the couch is a small sacrifice to make for you."
And those words make my knees go shaky beneath me.
Walker plants a kiss on the top of my head. Firecrackers ignite in my