a man. He was a beast.
And I wanted him to capture me.
It felt wrong to be so turned on by such a threatening male, but maybe the fact that I’ve never been with a man at all has turned my innocence into something desperate.
My stomach is in knots as I wait for someone to answer.
The window on the massive door is inlaid with stained glass. The pattern is of red rose blossoms with thorns on the stem. It’s beautiful and so delicate, and for a moment my fear fades and I imagine a little old woman living in this grand home.
I tuck a loose hair behind my ear, fantasizing that instead of an unexpected rendezvous, that I will be welcomed with a kind smile. It’s probably more practical to dream of being granted a place to warm up until the storm passes. Which at the rate the snow is falling, might be a few days.
I was so foolish to drive here like I did.
But then the door swings open.
And it’s not a gentle caretaker here to welcome me.
No. It is a man, towering over me with broad shoulders and dark eyes, hair hanging loosely around his face, and a thick beard. He holds a three-pronged candelabra, and I know the power must be out here too.
He growls in lieu of a greeting and the timber of his voice tells me that this man is untamed, feral, and hungry.
The fact that my body stirs at the sight of him scares me more than the man himself.
I swallow hard, stepping back, despite the fact I have nowhere else to go. He must see the fear blooming in my belly as I wrap my arms around my chest, bracing myself against the chill.
“What do you want?” he asks abruptly. His eyes pierce me, and I can’t look away.
Not understanding the feelings seizing me, I realize with a gasp, that I don’t want to look away.
In fact, I want him to drag me inside and ravish me; shoving my panties to my ankles, binding my wrists with a rope, and taking all I have to give.
I blink. What in the world am I thinking? This is not some scene from a gothic romance. This is my actual life.
“My car got stuck in the snow and it’s freezing out.” I look around, biting my bottom lip, not wanting to stare at him. When I look at him again, I picture him stripped of his clothes with his bare chest against mine and his large hands holding my hips where they belong.
“And?” he snarls.
My eyebrows furrow. Is he dense? Or just leery of strangers?
“And my phone doesn’t get reception out here.”
He doesn’t say anything. I notice though, his jaw tenses and his eyes look me over, as if he is also unable to look away.
I should fear this stranger. He looks a decade older than me, but oh so much wiser.
However, I’m not scared. Not in the least.
“And if I stay outside,” I tell him. “I’ll freeze, so... I thought...”
“You want to come inside? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Yes,” I say. “Are you trying to make this difficult? I can’t feel my toes. It’s practically a blizzard out here.”
“I see that,” he says coolly. “Why are you alone? A woman like you shouldn’t be out in this weather by herself. Where’s your man?”
I scoff. “What? Is this some eighteenth-century vortex? My man? I don’t need a man to drive home.”
“You clearly need someone to tell you that driving in a snow storm is foolish.”
“Well, I don’t have a man, thank you very much. And maybe if I did, he would be driving with me. But that’s irrelevant.”
“Is it?” He raises an eyebrow, and that one look turns my knees to jelly and my core clenches in... desire?
No. I’m not letting this arrogant man get my panties all twisted.
But then pulls back his shoulders, and his entire height is revealed. He is more than a man— he’s a mountain man. And my panties are not twisted.
They are downright soaked.
And as he looks at me, I think he probably knows it.
Which is annoying, to say the least. “Ugh,” I groan. “What’s your deal? I’m clearly not a threat to you. You have a house. And I don’t want to freeze to death on your front steps.”
He stares down at me, our eyes lock, and I can’t see what he’s thinking at all. It’s like he has the power to cloak his feelings and it infuriates me. I wear