7. Barn

BARN

A smile works at the corners of Drake's eyes, and I wonder if he didn't just sniff me. The gravelly intonations of his voice will be my undoing. I just know it. No one should sound that sexy.

His raven-black hair falls across his brow, perfectly unruly and disheveled. He finger-combs it back into place, where it stays for a moment, only to fall across his eyes again.

The scar on his face draws my attention, a ragged line extending over the left side of his face. It must have been painful, and I wonder how he got it.

His eyes pinch, perhaps noticing my focus on the disfigurement.

I clear my throat and inject cheer into my voice. "I'd love to see the llamas."

His eyes lock with mine. Strange how much power radiates from those depths. I wish I could see his pupils, but they're indistinguishable from the dark rims of his irises.

Drake dips his head and opens the back door, sweeping his arm outward. I take his lead and step into the chilly morning air while ignoring how his sculpted lips tip upward into a smirk.

This man will be my undoing. My insides warm with the sound of his voice. My steps lighten with the solid tread of his steps behind me. The brutal beauty of his face, punctuated by that puckered and ragged scar, speak to torment, agony, and survival.

He stands behind me, close enough to feel the heat of his breaths on the back of my neck. It's unsettling enough that I grab at my hair and free it from the messy bun. As I shake out the long strands, a strangled sound comes from Drake. He places a hand on the small of my back, steering me toward the barn.

"It's beautiful out here." I can't help but stop and take in the beauty all around me.

Instead of darkness and fear, I'm greeted with the light of a new day and all the hope that comes with it.

Overhead, the deepest blue greets the day. Over the ridge, the sun begins its steady climb skyward. There isn't a cloud in the sky. Not a single speck from the storm of the previous evening. And it's warmer than I expect.

My breath isn't visible, and my hands don't ache from the cold. Beneath my feet, wet snow crunches as it melts beneath the dawning sun.

I found my sneakers drying by the fire in the living room. Bert's hospitality is beyond thoughtful. They'll be wet again soon with the melting snow, but I no longer fear hypothermia, frostbite, and death.

As far as my eye can see, a blanket of white sparkles under the morning sun. I fight against the urge to spin in a circle, arms stretched wide, taking in the scene.

"Beyond gorgeous." Drake's hard gaze locks on my face.

My cheeks heat because he's not talking about the farm.

"Come." He turns toward the barn as my insides heat.

It's one word. An order given to follow. But it's more than that. Something carnal stirs in his voice: a promise for something more.

I follow him in companionable silence, broken only by the crunching of snow beneath our feet. At the barn, he unlatches the massive doors, then puts his back into sliding them on their rails until a narrow gap appears. He holds the doors open with the brace of his arm.

As I pass beneath his arm, the heat of his breath sears my skin and makes me shiver. My breath flees me as I pry my gaze from his hooded eyes to take in the dimly lit interior of the barn.

Musk, a deep, animal smell, fills the air. The pungent aroma of dirt, hay, and what must be llamas assaults my nostrils. An odd, low hum vibrates in the air. I feel it more than hear it. It's practically subsonic. I cast my gaze left and right until I realize the sound is coming from a pen to my left.

"What is that?" I ask.

Drake chuckles. "Llamas humming."

"That noise is from them?"

"If you like their humming, you should hear the males orgle." Mischief sparks in his voice.

"Did you just make up that word?" I arch my brow, thinking he's pulling the wool over my eyes.

"No."

When he laughs, his dark hair falls forward again. He reaches up, pushing the hair off his face, and draws my attention back to the scar.

"I hate to ask, but what's an orgle?"

I'm going to regret asking, but how can I not? Orgle is no word I've ever heard of before. I swear Drake's making it up.

"Llamas hum when they're happy. The males have a unique alarm call when they perceive danger, but when they breed, they orgle."

"Breed?"

"Yes." His low chuckle shouldn't be as sexy as it is, but heat fills my cheeks and butterflies flutter in my stomach.

"Orgle?"

"Yes, but it's not breeding season, just the humming for right now." His eyes crinkle at the corners. "I bet you're dying to hear a llama orgle now, aren't you?"

He steps close, towering over me, causing a tingle to spark in my chest and an ache to build lower down. My entire body is painfully aware of his overwhelming presence.

The timbre of his voice is both smooth and hypnotic, drugging even, because I find myself tipping my head back and closing my eyes as he leans down.

His breath disturbs the air above my cheek, and I hold still, paralyzed by what might happen next.

"What are you doing to me, city girl?" He touches a knuckle to my chin. His voice grows tight, hoarse, and needy.

"I'm not…" But my heart lifts at this unexpected turn of events.

He's close. Closer than he's ever been, crowding my space as the heat of his breaths fan across my face. His rich, deep scent fills my senses.

It's carnal and raw.

Seductive and exotic.

It's unlike anything I've experienced before.

"Shh." He brushes a finger over the fullness of my lips.

My eyes widen, and my lips part in breathless anticipation. Drake backs me up against the barn wall. My shoulders touch the rough pine siding as he cages me in.

I stare into the brutal, mesmerizing beauty of his face as the pad of his thumb brushes across the seam of my lips. I must be out of my mind because my lips part.

He bends over me, torso tight, muscles vibrating with need. I stare into the arresting imperfection of his face and dive into the dark pools of desire swimming in his eyes.

He's a strong, powerful man. Big enough to force me against my will. Perhaps I was too trusting coming out here alone with him?

But, isn't this what I want?

I wish I had an answer to that. Coming to Peace Springs is a way for me to start over, but I'm not looking to jump into a new relationship.

Work is my focus.

Or should be. Yet, here I am.

Alone.

In a barn.

With a man who rescued me from wolves and worse. He brought me to safety.

This is when I should make a break for it, but I find myself entranced and hope he'll deliver on the promise smoldering in his gaze.

Every nerve in my body stands up and takes notice, thrumming with anticipation as he dips his head and lowers his mouth.

"You're a provocative and intoxicating mystery that kept me up all night."

His seductive voice transfixes me. It's deep and rumbles with all the power and promise of a distant thunderstorm on the horizon.

I could run for shelter. Or, I can take a risk and weather the full force of the storm as it descends upon me. Is this what I want? Am I too scarred from Scott and the cruelty of his fists to trust another man?

I don't want to be that person. I want to believe in a world where kindness and good prevail. I want to believe in men like Drake who rescue those in danger and provide them shelter from the storm.

Is that too much to ask?

"I didn't …"

He taps the pad of his thumb against my lips.

"My dreams were positively indecent." He captures my eyes with his stormy gaze. "What are you doing to me?"

"I'm not …"

"You are, and you feel it too." His stony gaze shifts from my face to the rest of me. "I feel it in you."

"Drake, I don't know about…"

He silences me with a sharp shake of his head.

"I'm going to say this only once, and I don't mean it to frighten you, but I need you to understand."

"Understand, what?" I'm so overwhelmed right now he could recite gibberish and I wouldn't know the difference.

"When I see something I want, there's very little to stop me from going after it. If you don't want this to go any further, I need you to tell me no. I'll take a step back. I'll walk away, but—this is your one and only warning. I want you, city girl. I want you in ways that are positively indecent."

My heart sputters as his brick-hard body moves closer. He's everywhere all at once.

The press of his body.

The heat of his breath.

The low rumble of his voice.

Drake cages me in. His breath rustles my hair as he dips his head, not for the kiss I desire, but to nuzzle my neck. He hooks an arm around my waist and pulls me against his body.

I let my gaze flit, bouncing from the ceiling to the dark depths of the interior of the barn, until it finally settles on the stubble of his jaw.

He doesn't wait for me to answer, but crowds me in, towering over me.

"I really hope you say yes, city girl." He threads his fingers through the length of my hair, grasping the strands as his lips hover, a kiss away. "But you can say no. I'll never make you do something you don't want to do."

His need whispers through me, potent, powerful, and raw. Then he shifts, touching our foreheads together as if he has all the time in the world to let this moment hang between us. For a man who says he's not a patient man, he sure is letting this moment linger.

It's intoxicating, wholly unexpected, deliciously raw, and absolutely carnal.

Primal.

His fingers glide to my neck.

"If you don't want this, say no." His gruff tone catches me off guard. "Because I'm not going to stop if you say yes."

What do I want? I don't know anything about Drake, except our connection grows stronger with each beat of my heart. The seconds lengthen with me too tongue-tied to say what's on my mind.

He saved me from certain death, but am I ready to hop into bed with another man? Is that what we're talking about? A quick romp in the hay?

And then what?

It would be fun, and to be honest, I kind of need that sort of validation after what I've been through. Except, I'm not a one-and-done kind of girl.

I wish I were.

Hell, I wish I was with Drake, but I'm leery of giving in too soon, too fast.

Too easy.

But what if this is exactly what I need? A bit of distraction from the pain filling my past?

One of my reasons for coming to Peace Springs is to make a fresh start. To leave the pain of broken promises and flying fists behind me, where they can't hurt me anymore, but I have no intention of jumping into another relationship.

My answer hovers on the next breath. And I don't know what I'll say.