Reign (The Sainthood - Boys of Lowell High #3)(129)
My eyes trail up his delectable torso, refocusing on his face. He’s watching me carefully. Absorbing my gaze like he wants to bury deep inside me and figure me out. My fingers itch to run along the fine layer of scruff adorning his chin and jawline. To mess up his hair which is styled long on top and shorn close to his skull on both sides. A craving to explore his chiseled cheekbones, and to taste his full lips, hits me out of nowhere, reminding me I’m still very much alive.
I can’t ever recall having such a strong, physical reaction to a guy upon sight. None of the guys back home have affected me so potently, except for Trent—he makes my skin crawl with the barest of looks—but this is the complete opposite.
One glance from this stranger heats my blood and stirs desire low in my belly. I cock my head to the side, intrigued and aroused, my previous self-destructive mission all but forgotten.
We don’t speak. We just stare at one another and an electrical current charges the small space between us. My body emerges from its semi-comatose state, and I’m equally hot and cold. A shiver works its way through me, and I wrap my arms around my slim frame, desperately trying to ward off the biting cold air clawing at my pale skin.
“You need to get warm.” The stranger extends his hand. “Come with me.”
I wrap my hand around his without hesitation, and we tread through the water back toward the shore. His callused palm is firm against my skin, sending a flurry of fiery tingles coasting up and down my arm. We don’t speak as we emerge from the sea, walking across the clammy sand toward a small wooden cabin in the near distance. I hadn’t noticed it when I first arrived because I had singular focus.
A thin stream of smoke creeps out of a narrow chimney, and I watch the cloudy spirals with fascination as we walk hand in hand toward the neat wooden structure. In the distance, a sprawling mansion occupies prime real estate, the property submerged in darkness at this late hour.
He pushes open the door, stepping aside to allow me to enter first. A blast of heat slaps me in the face from the roaring open fire, and my body relaxes for the first time in days. The cabin is small but cozy and welcoming. The main room contains a compact kitchen with a stove, sink, and a long counter with three stools. On the right is a three-seater couch positioned in front of a coffee table and a wall-mounted TV over the fireplace. A side room suggests a bedroom with en suite bathroom, and that’s the extent of the space.
My bedroom is bigger than this entire cabin, but it isn’t half as inviting.
A bright rug resting atop the varnished hardwood floor, the soft colorful throw on the couch, and an abundance of vibrant cushions injects a comfortable, lived-in feel. The old bookcase tucked into the corner between the wall and the door is crammed full of books, DVDs, and mementos, creating a homey atmosphere. The only light is from the flickering flames of the fire and an old-fashioned lamp on top of the coffee table.
He shuts the door and steers me in front of the fire. On autopilot, I raise my palms, relishing the heat as it wraps around my chilly skin. He moves around behind me, but I don’t turn to look. I stand in front of the fire, allowing it to thaw my frozen limbs and fracture the layer of ice surrounding my heart.
“Sit down,” he commands in that rugged voice of his, draping a blanket around my upper body.
I sink to the ground without a word, tucking my knees into my chest as I peer at him. He drops down in front of me, gently uncurling my legs, drawing one into his lap as he dries my damp skin with a soft blue towel. We stare at one another as he dries both my feet and legs, and that same pull from before pulses between us, rendering some invisible connection.
“I feel like I know you from somewhere, yet I’ve never seen you before,” I admit, eventually finding my voice.
He stalls with his hands on my feet, piercing my gaze with his intense chocolate-colored one. “I know,” he says after a few beats.
When he tosses the towel aside, I move closer to him, sitting up on my knees with my body resting on my ankles. I keep my eyes locked on his as I reach up and touch the shorn side of his head, my fingers trailing over the velvety soft hair, tracing the edge of his skull tattoo. It was too dark outside to notice it, but now, I’m even more intrigued by this elusive, hot stranger who appeared out of nowhere to rescue me.
The tattoo is in the shape of a cross, and I wonder if the symbolism means something personal to him. All I know is it’s sexy as hell, and my body naturally responds to him, arching in closer.
He pulls my hand away from his head, pressing a feather-light kiss to the sensitive skin on my wrist, and I feel his tender touch all the way to the tips of my toes. His gentle touch is in direct contrast to his edgy look. With his defined abs, bulging biceps, and ink-covered tan skin, he looks like the quintessential bad boy every girl gets warned about. “Why were you out there?” he asks, keeping his gaze locked on mine.
I could lie, but I’m tired of all the lies.
I’m tired of saying what’s expected and pretending to be someone I’m not.
“I didn’t want to feel anymore.”
There’s a pregnant pause as he stares at me, no doubt wondering if I meant that sincerely. “What would you have done if I hadn’t spotted you?” he inquires, still trying to puzzle me out.
I shrug. “Kept walking most likely.” Allowed the sea to claim me as I’d originally intended when I’d given Oscar, my bodyguard, the slip, and driven here.