Chapter 3

chapter

three

Joy

My brain is still trying to process how I ended up here. Naked in the hot man's living room. Greta--that's my car's name--died on the side of the road. I knew it was about her time. She barely made it all the way on the drive from Texas to New York.

I pull the blanket tighter around me because I'm naked. NAKED!

I'm still shivering, but the fire is definitely helping. His house is unreal. It's giant with beautiful wood beams across the high ceiling and a huge picture window that I'm imagining looks out at the mountains. Though right now it's too dark to see.

"I, uh, don't really sleep in pajama's, but I found these." He comes into the room, his arms piled with pillows and bedding. He drops it all on the floor, and I'm met with his bare chest.

God Bless Texas.

His chest is a gift from above. He's got one of those V-things and the sculpted abs and a thin trail of hair that disappears into plaid flannel pajama pants.

I lick my lips and force myself to stop cataloging his torso and look at his face.

His brows are raised and he's holding something out to me. "This work?"

I grab it and see it's the shirt that matches his pants and a pair of boxers. "Yes. Thank you."

"I'll just go find my lanterns and you can get dressed." He turns away and walks into the kitchen which is just on the other side of the massive sectional sofa.

I turn away from him and face the fire, then drop the blanket and quickly pull on the boxers. The shirt is next and it fits okay, but it's definitely snug across my boobs because my girls are big. They're my best asset and tend to distract men initially from noticing the fact that I've got a tummy and thighs and a butt to match. At least I'm proportioned well.

I'm still fiddling with the buttons when I realize Eli is standing close to me. I can smell the clean woodsy scent of him and it's all masculine yumminess that I want to bury my face in. Which is crazy. A) because I never react this strongly to men I don't know, and b) because I certainly know better than to fantasize about guys this hot. And this guy? He is miles out of my league.

Handsome, successful, and clearly loaded?

He checks all the boxes.

Me? I'm just a slightly chubby, candy-maker, facing a lot of career uncertainty. Financially? I have exactly one thing to my name. A car that's currently more paperweight than mode of transportation.

So, yeah, I'm outclassed here. I'm like the home baker on Chopped who fumbles through the first round before getting … well, chopped.

Outclassed or not, I want to touch him. I want to rub my palms up and down his perfect chest. I don't know what's going on in his mind, but I'm not that girl. The one who insanely hot men flirt with or try to seduce. I've had boyfriends. I've had a couple of men tell me I'm pretty. But mostly I'm overlooked for the more svelte ladies around me.

I glance up and catch his gaze. Those mesmerizing blue eyes have darkened to a sapphire and his breath seems shallow.

"You look like you're about to bust out of that shirt," he says.

I don't have time to school my features and hide the hurt of his comment, but I do pull away. "I know I'm not a tiny woman, but you don't have to make fun of me for it."

He balks. He reaches out and takes one curl and tucks it behind my ear. "Don't pretend you don't know that you look hot as fuck in that shirt. It was a compliment."

"To tell me that I'm too big for your shirt?"

He gives me a seductive grin. "I was talking about your tits, sweetheart." He swallows visibly. "You're beautiful, Joy."

I swallow. I could play this two ways. I could lean into his touch and possibly have an amazing hot one-night stand. Or I could turn on my sass, and tell him that just because I'm here and he rescued me. And that despite the fact that he's stupid hot and my panties are already wet--okay technically they're his boxers but whatever--that I'm not just gonna jump in the bed with him because he paid me a compliment. And if he thinks I am, then he's crazy. I'm not that easy.

Instead I do neither of those things and stare at him like I'm one egg short of a dozen.

"I'm going to sleep out here with you because I'm tired and I don't want to light another fire tonight. That work for you?"

"Sure," I say, but I think it came out as a nonsensical squeak.

He starts to make up the couch and I stop him, putting my hand on his forearm. His skin is so hot to the touch and a jolt of awareness shoots through my body.

"I just want to sleep on the floor in front of the fireplace." I grab some bedding and make myself a pallet on the floor. He does the same and soon we're laying side-by-side on our own pallets with our own blankets, not touching, not talking, not even looking at each other.

"Thanks for rescuing me tonight," I say.

His head turns and he meets my gaze. He looks beautiful with the firelight dancing over his handsome face. The setting is intensely romantic it's hard not to notice that.

"Anytime." Then he rolls his head back to look at the ceiling. "Goodnight, Joy."

"Goodnight, Eli."

I'm not sure how long I've been asleep or what time it is. It's still dark outside and I'm not cold anymore. Partly because of the fire, but also because of the warm wall of muscle pressed to my back. Eli's heavy arm is draped over my body and he's holding me close to him.

There is the distinct press of an erection against my ass and instinctively I push back against it.

He groans and his palm slides up to cup my boob.

My nipple hardens and tries to cut a hole in the flannel to reach his skin. I lay perfectly still trying to figure out if he's awake and knowingly touching me or if he's just a sleep groper. Sleep groper or not, his hand on my tit feels amazing.

Warm, wet lips brush against the back of my neck and I suck in a breath.

Surely he can't do that if he's sleeping.

I take my chances and roll to face him.

He leans up on one arm, cups my face with his other hand. His glance is questioning, but I don't exactly know what he's asking. Whatever it is he decides my answer is yes because he leans down and kisses me.

And it's like I've never been kissed before. Everything feels new. The press of his soft lips, the warmth of his breath, the slow swipe of his tongue across my bottom lip. I wrap my arms around his neck and hold him tight as I slant my mouth and kiss him back.

Our tongues tangle and it's hot and dirty and wet. He moves so that he's on top of me and I widen my thighs to make room for his body. He's heavy and sturdy and perfect.

He leans up for a moment and watches my face, then he smiles at me and I swear on my Grammy's life that I feel my heart unlock. Like that smile holds the answers to all of my life's questions. Like he's my person and I was meant to find him.

Soulmate .

The word echoes through my body and I shiver. It's too soon for that.

I bring one leg up against his hip, opening myself more to him and his erection presses right where I want it. He's impossibly hard and long and thick and rocking against me.

"Joy," he whispers. Then we're kissing again.

He's still sliding the weight of his cock across my clit and It's so good. I run my hands up and down his back, letting my nails scratch against the broad muscles. I buck my hips up, grinding my clit against his length.

Then it hits. "Oh shit, I'm coming!" I yell. I press my head into the pillow underneath me as the waves of pleasure radiate through my body.

I come back to myself and open my eyes to see him braced above me.

"That was the single hottest thing I've ever seen in my life," he says.

I frown. "Do you never leave this cabin?"

He chuckles.

I yawn because I'm cool like that.

He climbs off me and settles in next to me, pulling me close to his body again.

"We don't have to stop, I know you didn't, uh, finish," I say.

He kisses my head. "You're tired. Get some sleep. We can talk about things tomorrow."

And just like that I fall asleep again.