Reckless(51)

It’s been almost two weeks since my divorce was finalized, and though I want nothing more than to be able to focus on what’s brewing between Tori and me, the next court date looms like a dark cloud, one that keeps me up at night long after the house is still and quiet.

I’ve resigned myself to being satisfied with snuggling on the couch. To holding this gorgeous girl. To hugging her. To keeping things PG when all I want to do is carry her back to my bed, strip her bare, and fuck her into next week.

Not that there’ve been many opportunities. But that hasn’t done anything to curb my craving for her, which has only grown since I’ve been witness to her patience with me. To her commitment to understanding where I’m coming from and being an amazing friend. To her unwavering affection for my children.

It’s the bottom of the ninth when Tori yawns sleepily. “Gonna take a shower and go to bed. I’m wiped.”

I pull her into a hug, careful to avoid making eye contact because it only takes one glance into those wide golden-green eyes to make me question why I’m holding out.

She wiggles closer. “Don’t stay up too late. You have that client coming over tomorrow evening.”

I love how much of an interest she’s taken in the ranch. How much she cares. Logan and I talk shop every day with her, explaining what we do and how we train the horses. She never looks bored or annoyed. Always asks questions and perks up with curiosity when she’s in the barn. We even managed to squeeze in a lesson on Stargazer. Tori was fantastic up on that horse, her obvious love of the animal a damn delight to see.

“I’m turning in soon. I promise.” I breathe in her sweet scent. “Night, baby. Sleep tight.”

She kisses my cheek and shuffles out of the room. I stare after her, wondering how we’ve somehow turned into this old married couple after skipping the part where we bone like our lives depend on it.

Not that Allison ever watched baseball with me. Or liked to snuggle.

It fills me with a strange satisfaction that Tori and I have slipped into such an easy friendship.

It’s not as though our attraction has dimmed. I see how her eyes eat me up when I come in from the barn, sweaty and hot with my t-shirt stuck to my skin. How she studies the ink on my arms. How her face breaks into a sultry smile when she sees me checking her out. Which, by the way, is often.

I’ve probably broken my record for the number of times I’ve jerked off in the last few weeks.

Sitting in the dark, with longing and lust in my heart, I wait for the desire to become manageable. For the urge to charge after her and make her mine to subside.

Once I can breathe again, I reach for the remote. I’ve just flipped off the TV when her unmistakable voice pierces the quiet with a bloodcurdling scream.

My heart stops in my chest. Tori.

And then I’m in motion.

Racing to her room like my life depends on it.

I fling open the door to find it empty. Steam billows from the bathroom where the door sits ajar, but another scream has me bolting forward before I can question whether I should go darting in there.

The shower curtain is open, and her eyes widen when she sees me, but she makes no effort to hide her nudity. Water splashes off her slick body and out onto the floor. But that’s not what concerns me. What has me tilting my head is that she’s flailing and jumping around so much in the stall I’m afraid she’s going to slip and fall.

“Spider!” she screams, smacking at her very bare, very wet skin. “Spiiiiiiiiider!”

Now that I know she’s not being murdered by a serial killer, I take a deep breath, because, damn, she scared me.

That’s when my lizard brain homes in on all that water sluicing down her perky, lush tits. How it runs in rivulets along her tight little body. How ethereal she looks with that wet hair and steam billowing up around her.

But before I focus on what I know is a bare expanse of skin between her thighs, I force myself to stop and look up.

She waves her hands at me. Imploring. Angry. Agitated.

“It rappelled down onto me like a goddamn ninja.” Shivering, she smacks at her arms.

I let out a chuckle, one she obviously doesn’t find amusing.

“Don’t laugh, Ethan! How would you feel if a spider tried to terrorize you when you were wet and naked?”

That’s all I can focus on. Those words. Wet and naked.

Swallowing, I ignore the erection in my jeans that would also love to get wet and naked.

Because there’s a whole lot of naked right now.

Dutifully, I take up her cause and glance around. Up at the ceiling. Along the tiled walls. Down along the drain. All the while ignoring the naked.

Jesus, save me from temptation and the boner in my jeans.

“Babe, I think you probably killed the culprit.”

Tori’s breathless, her long, thick hair a tangle of wet locks cascading down her body, one I need to explore again with my mouth. Because that fumble in my truck didn’t do my memory of her curves justice.

Eyes up, douchebag. Eyes up.

But the smile she gives me is a spotlight, stealing all my attention. “Really? It’s gone?”

God, she’s beautiful.

She stares at me from underneath damp eyelashes, the grateful expression on her face making my heart thump harder against my chest.

Leaning into the shower and ignoring the spray, I wipe away the water on her cheek with my palm and desperately try to keep my hunger for this woman at bay.