had been cut down, replaced with a waterproof version fresh from Fred and his team.
She was hobbling around.
And going nuts being confined at headquarters.
So, when I’d floated the idea of spending a week here at the cabin, under the guise of me needing to check on the property—even though I’d had to pay for a vacation for my caretaker to get the place to ourselves—I’d hedged my bets.
She’d accepted without hesitation.
Thus, my plan to get her alone was successful.
“Too bad the peaches are all harvested,” she murmured.
“Yeah,” I said. “It was an early season.”
“How’d you become a peach farmer?”
“Stupidly,” I told her.
She laughed, pressed her body along my side. “Tell me.”
“I was driving by after a mission, saw the For Sale sign, and figured I was nearing thirty and it was time to buy some property.” I shrugged. “The trees were pretty. The house was decent. So, I put in an offer.” A roll of my eyes. “I had no clue how in over my head I was. I’m hardly ever stateside, and now I owned a farm? Ridiculous.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Six years.”
“Well, the trees look to have survived.”
“Thanks to Hank.”
She propped her elbows on my chest. “Who’s Hank?”
“The caretaker I hired about two weeks after realizing the actual size of this place.”
“Smart.”
I shook my head. “Necessary after a stupid purchase.”
She brushed a kiss to my cheek. “Probably,” she agreed. “But I am fond of this place.” A smile. “I would like to experience it when it isn’t a thousand degrees.”
“Just a little hyperbole there.”
“Shut it, you,” she said.
“It’s shut,” I countered.
We lay in silence for a few minutes, the temperature lowering to something less in the vicinity of Seventh Circle of Hell and more to actually comfortable. But then Ava shifted and stretched back onto the blanket, her arms above her head.
My eyes drifted to her breasts, mouth watering.
We’d done very little kissy-facing as Laila called it, mostly because the team had been hanging out together and because I’d been forcing myself to not pounce on her like the starving beast I felt like.
I fucking loved her body.
But she’d been injured.
Was still healing.
So, though I’d held her every night since she’d woken in the infirmary, I hadn’t allowed my brain to even consider anything more than that and the occasional kiss.
She moaned softly, and my eyes caught on the shimmering skin at the base of her throat, the way her lips, plump and tempting, parted as she breathed slowly and steadily. How her breasts lifted and fell in time to her breathing, the slightest jiggle visible in the V of her T-shirt.
Fuck.
Still. Healing.
“Mmm,” she said, stretching for another moment before shifting to her side and propping her head on her hand. That V gaped . . . and I suddenly had a problem with my shorts fitting properly.
“I need more whiskey,” she said.
I started to sit up, reaching for her glass. “I’ll go in the house and get you—”
The skies opened up.
Without warning, in that uniquely Southern way. I hadn’t noticed the clouds coming in, the already-darkening evening sky hiding their approach.
She gasped.
Then smiled, slow and sexy and plumb full of heat, and reached for the hem of her T-shirt.
“Ava,” I warned.
“I think it’s a sign, don’t you?” she asked, tugging it up, the already sodden material hitting the blanket next to her with a soft plop.
I inched back, my fingers itching to touch.
Still. Healing.
As evidenced by the bright red marks on her abdomen.
Her hand went to the button of her shorts.
“Ava.”
She flicked it open, tugged down the zipper, and lifted her hips, sliding the material down her thighs.
One slender sexy foot out, leaving the material around the cast.
“Want to help a girl out?” she asked.
I shook my head, too focused on all that skin on display, on those curves. My cock was hard, my mouth was dry, and . . .
She reached behind her, tugged the plain cotton bra up and over her head.
And I stopped thinking.
I closed the distance between us, pulled her on top of me, and kissed her with every bit of need that had been growing over the last weeks—hell, the last years. My fingers skimmed over the heated silk of her torso, drew patterns in the water dotting her skin. I tugged her down, brought my lips to hers.
“No,” she gasped a moment later, pulling back.
Fuck. Too much, too soon. I’d hurt her or scared her or—
I started to set her aside.
She placed her hands on mine, eyes gentle. “No,” she said.