Lost in Him Page 10

  Maybe he really does need time to cool off.

  After all, I just stormed in and stomped all over his privacy. The least I can do is heed his wishes. Just for a few minutes.

  It only takes a second for my thoughts to wander elsewhere. My chest warms as I think about the rock he gave me. The firewood too. Not to mention his belongings are scattered in my cabin to create a more comfortable, cozy environment.

  But the greatest gift of all? He gave me a nickname.

  Darlin’.

  A shiver attacks my toasty skin. When the endearment slipped from him, he had a southern drawl. It somehow makes the title that much more appealing. As if I need more reason to drool all over him. The change in his tone could’ve been my imagination.

  I tug on my hair with a frustrated groan. There are so many things I want to ask him. The questions are piling up faster than I can count. I don’t want to bombard him with unnecessary curiosity. Our talking status seems fragile at best. The last thing I want is for him to reclaim his former vow of silence or whatever. For now, I’ll have to be satisfied with the crumbs he’s dropping directly in my path.

  Without realizing it or not, he’s revealing small pieces of himself. He isn’t such a heartless prick. Secretive and grumpy? Absolutely. But there’s a lot to discover under the broody surface.

  Nash Hudson might be a closet romantic.

  And I’m here for it.

  My feet carry me aimlessly around while I try to pretend all is well. There are several comforts readily available and waiting to distract me. Dinner waits in the kitchen. Warm flames crackle from the stone hearth. There’s a pillowy couch calling for me to relax. Heck, I could even take a bath in the impressive tub I spotted earlier. It puts mine to shame. But no. None of those options will calm the nerves bubbling in my stomach.

  All I truly want just stalked off. Again.

  One of these days he will flee toward me.

  I surrender to impulse with a sigh. My gaze settles on the dozing pup curled near the fire. “Will you help me find your daddy, Runey-boy?”

  He’s on his feet without further prompting. His nails click on the wood floor as he trots to the door. When I don’t move fast enough, he scratches at the chipped wood.

  “All right, I’m coming. Don’t get your fur in a twist.” I’m a foot away from him when I remember it’s still raining. A peek out the nearest window proves the drizzle has grown into a full-fledged downpour. No way I can stay dry now. “Well, that’s fudging fantastic.”

  But the weather won’t deter me, dammit. I rub my bare arms in preparation for the chill. There’s little else I can do. My jacket is still soaked and useless. That’s when I spot a hoodie hanging on a hook. The thick fabric is practically begging to be used.

  I tug the sweatshirt over my head, the worn cotton offering a gentle hug. The large size generously covers me to my knees. “Perfect fit.”

  Rune yips in agreement while I tug on my boots. Thankfully, their insides stayed dry, or else I’d have to waddle in Nash’s monstrous shoes.

  And with that, I exit the cabin’s heated embrace. Rune is quick to run across the yard. His form blurs into an unreliable guide. I squint while my eyes adjust to the dusky conditions. Overgrown grass swishes against my sluggish stride. Damp earth and new beginnings perfume the air. It’s natural to suck in a deep breath, but I can’t take my sweet time. Even with the hood over my head, moisture is already sinking in. Soon the massive garment will be dead weight.

  As it turns out, I don’t have to wander far to find Nash. There’s a small building tucked behind his home. Process of elimination and good sense suggests that’s where he’s hiding.

  Hinges squeal in protest as I shove inside. I abruptly stop in my tracks. The space is lit by electric lanterns, allowing me to see the agitated figure who appears larger than the walls can contain.

  Nash is pacing in the center, fingers buried in his hair. At the rate he’s going, there will be tracks worn into the concrete. He slams to a stop and whips his eyes to mine. There’s so much icy hostility brimming in those blue depths. But I catch the vulnerability above it. I once again find myself contemplating what bothers this man. That weight on his shoulders looks too heavy to bear.

  Rune enters the tense atmosphere with a chipper bark. His interruption severs the spell we’d been lost in. Nash wrenches his glare off me with a muffled curse. I nearly gasp as I’m released from those perplexing clutches. Aftershocks tingle along my nape.

  Then I notice what lines the room. Jaw slack and eyes wide, I digest the treasures I just stumbled upon. My feet stumble forward on their own merit. I rotate in a full circle to appraise each expertly crafted piece. The hoodie’s protective layer lowers from the choppy twirl, leaving me exposed to the slight chill. It barely penetrates beyond my surprise.

  “What is all this?”

  Nash moves to the side, done with his frustrated stomping. “My work.”

  He mentioned something along those lines earlier, just before his latest escape ploy. This isn’t what I had in mind. Honestly, his reasoning sounded like a lame excuse. I figured he was just grasping at straws to evade me.

  “You made all this?” I study a knotty log that’s sleek, glossy, and wide enough to function as a stool. Maybe that’s what it is.

  His gaze tracks my interest. “Yeah.”

  “Wow.” I’m compelled by some unseen force to explore the entire collection. Each object is different, and not just in the type of wood. Some chairs have more curves. The tables are a variety of heights and sizes. Shelves that are connected or stand-alone. A bench with ornate carving. Bookcases. Wall panels. Frames. Crates. Stands. Then there are more artistic designs that I assume are used for decoration.

  There’s one similarity across the board. The finished products are flawless. Unique, handcrafted items people would pay a small fortune for. That gets me thinking.

  “Are these for sale?”

  “Most are already sold.”

  That’s an interesting twist, considering his strict aversion to people. He must have a system. Just one more mystery about this complex man.

  Another thought occurs to me. “You made all the furniture in our cabins.”

  “I did.”

  “Wait.” I whirl to face him. “What about the cabins themselves?”

  “Did those too.” His bland expression doesn’t reflect pride or accomplishment.

  I part and seal my lips five times before an articulate response forms. “That seems highly unlikely.”

  “Believe what you want.” His nonchalant attitude is maddening.

  “You built four cabins and this shop?” That last one gets tacked on for good measure.

  Nash just nods.

  “Alone?”

  He shrugs as if my shock is unwarranted. “Had to hire a professional to ensure they’re structurally sound and up to code.”

  “But otherwise?”

  “Did it myself.”

  I smack a palm to my forehead to keep my brain from exploding. “How’s that possible?”

  Nash glances around the room. “Nothing else to do.”

  Questions fill my mouth until my cheeks are puffed out. I blow out the trapped air with a hiss. This must’ve cost a hefty sum. That means he has money, and a lot of it. Or did. Maybe he spent every cent building his lodges. The urge to ask how he pulled it off makes my temples hurt. Shaky ground warns me to tread lightly. It’s not my business. Besides, the details won’t change the obvious.

  I whistle through my teeth. “You’re really impressive, Thorn.”

  He scoffs. “Never heard that before.”

  “Only because you avoid people like their mere existence offends you.”

  A muscle leaps in his jaw. Touchy subject. “I didn’t confine myself out here for the fuck of it.”

  “Gotcha.” I sidestep that minefield and continue snooping. Nash doesn’t complain as I peruse his creations. Rune suddenly flanks my leg, herding me toward a coffee table with subtle pr
essure. I kneel while smoothing a palm along the polished leg.

  A groan fondles my eardrums from the other end of the room. The erotic sound snags my attention. When I peek over at him, a heavy pulse throbs in my lower half. He appears to be barely restraining himself. White knuckles clench around a hammer. His entire body flexes and goes slack on a restrictive cycle. Raw, carnal hunger billows from his stare.

  I gulp when the temperature rises, the suffocating heat engulfing me within seconds. Inexperienced or not, it’s plain to see Nash likes what he sees. This scene isn’t entirely new to me. I’ve just never reciprocated the blatant lust dumped down my throat.

  Men have made their disgusting intentions known on countless occasions. They leered at my cleavage. Grabbed my hips hard enough to bruise. Slung degrading comments to shrink my esteem. Took liberties that weren’t offered. An ugly sneer taunts me as the memories flicker on a warped reel. The extra ballsy ones groped my ass while we danced at ridiculously overpriced fundraisers. Their crude affections left me feeling shamed and hollow.

  They didn’t want me, not in the sense that mattered. Those crooks sought what my connections could grant them. Well, that’s not entirely true. It’s my father’s wealth and influence they were after. Nathaniel was the worst, and he almost won the grand prize. Nausea bubbles in my stomach just thinking about him. I hope he’s suffering in prison. Good riddance.

  But Nash? He might use me, but with our mutual pleasure as the sole priority. His unapologetic gaze promises to deliver satisfaction. That desire is rooted to the most basic, genuine level. I get a natural high off him that can’t be bought. This brutal, savage honesty is what I came to find. I’m instantly hooked, and I crave more of what he’s so freely giving me. It’s simple and addictive and glorious.

  I don’t truly know what it means to be taken and worshipped by a man, but I have a feeling Nash would destroy me for all others. That reality is far too appealing.

  Which is precisely why I have to pull the plug.

  I turn away from the seductive sight before I suggest something highly inappropriate. Wobbly knees carry me to a set of rocking chairs. With my focus anchored forward, I don’t see his approach. But that doesn’t mean I can’t feel him. His presence is stronger than the storm. My breath hitches with each prowling step. I’m attuned to him as if we’re connected by an electrical wire thrumming with high voltage.

  Nash’s presence becomes a hot brand against my back. That near proximity causes a fever to ravage me. I’m suddenly sweltering, on the verge of going up in flames.

  We aren’t touching. Not quite. An inch or less is all that separates us beyond our clothes. Even through the thick cotton, his heat threatens to incinerate me.

  He crowds my space, his body a towering cage I’m all too willing to perch in. “Couldn’t listen, huh?”

  I wheeze around the ball blocking my airway. A verbal response isn’t possible. I settle for a quick head shake.

  He dips lower. A steamy exhale ghosts along my neck, eliciting a shiver I feel deep inside. “What’s in this shop is deeply personal to me.”

  I tilt my neck until my head bumps his jaw. “Am I invading?”

  “Yes.” His mouth is dangerously close to brushing my ear.

  My lashes flutter until darkness swarms me. “Do you want me to leave?”

  Nash’s silence is deafening. Only our labored breathing sizzles across the stillness. He makes me wait for a full minute. Maybe longer. An erratic beat drums in my ears, doing little to soothe me. I’m ready to jump out of my clammy skin.

  Eventually, he must deem me worthy to stay.

  His next inhale is long and loud. “You smell like me.”

  My tongue swells from the heat in his voice. “Oh?”

  He groans while drawing more of the scent into his lungs. “Yes.”

  I wet my lips as flames lick at me. “Is that good?”

  “Very.”

  The urge to face him pummels me. But that would most likely shatter this intimate moment. It’s that fear blending with rich lust keeping me grounded.

  Nash makes me wish for things I’ve only read about in romance novels. More so, this man gives me hope that those whimsical fantasies can come true. The dream feels too real. I could almost reach out for that happily ever after.

  Instead, I blindly grasp for the chair my front is plastered against. The solid surface provides me with a much-needed tether. I begin absently drifting my fingers along the smooth finish.

  “Do you know what that does to me?” His hand hovers over mine as I trace the grooves.

  We’re so close to touching, but distance still lingers like chaperones on prom night. I want to feel the rough skin on his palms rasping against me. I want to feel the coarse stubble on his jaw leave marks on my sensitive flesh. My cheeks flare with smoky desire.

  It’s difficult to take a decent breath, leaving me delirious and flighty. I finally manage to bathe my lungs with fresh oxygen and recall that he asked me a question.

  “What does it do to you?”

  Nash emits another erotic groan that curls my toes. “These pieces are an extension of me. My visions and livelihood. I survive off this wood with passion and dedication. When you caress hours of labor with such care, it feels like you’re stroking my bare flesh.”

  I’m dizzy with blood loss in my brain. There’s a distinguishable sensitivity between my thighs. That slick heat that has nothing to do with rain, but rather this addictive man behind me. I’m consumed by him.

  Then it happens. Warm flesh overlaps mine. My hand isn’t visible beneath his. I stare at the astonishing sight while trying to remain calm. Desire wafts through the room in thick spurts. My pulse races until I’m breathless again. Spots dance in my vision as I try to stay standing.

  I’m not sure what’s happening, but I enjoy the rush beneath my skin. My entire life has been riches and spoils. It didn’t take long to determine I wasn’t motivated by material belongings. My internal compass leads me straight ahead, on a path framed in love and devotion. The type that can’t be forced or manipulated. Maybe this is a sign, a memorable point from which to start the journey.

  That’s why I sag against him with my next breath.

  Almost as fast, Nash rips his palm off me. “Dammit.”

  Cool air suddenly replaces the fire he’d been stoking. His absence is an instant loss, and not just to my balance. I right myself with a forward sway.

  “What just happened?”

  He scrubs a palm down his face. “Too much.”

  I’ve pushed him again. A scolded wince cramps my expression. “Sorry.”

  “It wasn’t you.” His gaze slides to me for a brief second before darting away again. “Well, not entirely.”

  The anger in his tone stings, but one glance at him proves that fury isn’t directed at me. He’s mad at himself. For what, I can’t be certain.

  I inch forward, only to have him retreat a step. “What’s wrong?”

  “You should go. It’s late.” He’s denying me. Again.

  I’m tired of rejection. Exhausted, really. “What if I stay?”

  “That wasn’t meant to be phrased as a request, Darlin’.”

  “You and your nicknames.” I bite my lip as a fresh rush of heat attacks my face.

  “Fucking hell.” The growly noise he emits is primal and animalistic. If he’s trying to dissuade me, that’s not a proper strategy.

  “That could be arranged,” I whisper.

  “No,” he grunts. “Get some sleep.”

  “How about you?” I find it hard to believe he’ll find comfort out here. There’s not a soft surface in sight.

  “That’s not your problem. I’ll see you in the morning.” Nash shoves more distance between us without moving. His resolute resistance bounces off the walls. There’s no sense in arguing.

  I can only suggest so much before it looks desperate. Tonight has already proven to be… intense. We have months together. That reminder is enough for now. I’ll cho
ose to retreat. For his sake, and mine. I’m not happy about it, but I’ll have to raise the white flag.

  My backward motion is hesitant, reluctance a sticky tar weighing me down. But I leave him to his cherished solitude all the same.

  Rune crashes through the brush with zero consideration for my latest attempt at relaxing. I crack an eye open to watch him dash off at breakneck speed. Whatever enticing scent he’s caught must be a good one.

  Not better than the seductive temptation seared into my nostrils.

  Penny in my clothes, smelling like me, is more arousing than any provocative fantasy. Then she went ahead and stroked my wood.

  I’m about to pop some in my jeans right now at the illicit scene burned into my memory.

  Each gentle caress from her fingers across those polished edges felt like she was appraising me. My dick twitches, already semi-hard just imagining a hesitant graze from those supple hands. Penny dug beyond the shiny exterior to find the scars lurking beneath. Her immediate acceptance was a balm I felt in my bones. A permanent claim I’ll never be free from.

  And I’m not certain I want to be.

  It’s been years since I’ve initiated contact with someone. In my shop, with Penny surrounded by me, I was compelled to touch her. That connection sizzles in my palm days later. I fist my left hand to ward off the unwanted reminder. The beer in my right gets crushed by association.

  “So damn weak!” I shout to the dancing branches above.

  Rune appears at my side, bumping his head against me. His intuition rarely fails. Same with his loyalty, except when a certain blonde enters the field. But he knows me in some ways better than I know myself—there’s no hiding from him. The pity in his mismatched eyes slashes at the wound festering in my chest.

  “Yeah, boy. I’m screwed.”

  His whimper acknowledges unavoidable facts.

  I’m already too invested in her. She’s leaving in less than two months. We won’t see each other again once she’s gone. That’s why I’ve kept my distance this past week.