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Her smile dropped.

I shouldn’t have said that for a thousand reasons. Not least of which because she was in a vulnerable position here with a strange man. Alone.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I shouldn’t—”

“It’s okay,” she said softly, a pinkness rising in her cheeks. She wasn’t scared. “I’ll take it.”

Something crackled between us. She had a strip of hair plastered to her cheek, and I had the most absurd urge to brush it from her face. I even lifted a hand.

Then I remembered myself and pulled my cap off, running my free hand through my hair instead. “Guess that’s it for my fishing rod,” I said, trying to make my voice light.

“Seriously? That’s what you’re worried about?” She laughed.

My tied-up stomach relaxed slightly. This was safer territory.

“I like that fishing rod. It’s my lucky rod.”

Her lips did a strange twist, and she cleared her throat.

To my horror, my dick twinged.Notsafer territory. Then my mouth ran away without me. “What’s so funny about my rod?”

Her mouth opened, but instead of being horrified, she laughed, sending a spasm tingling down to my toes.

God she was beautiful. My eyes went to her lips automatically, and that’s when I saw they had a slight blue tinge to them. There were goosebumps on her arms, too.

“You’re cold,” I said, my smile falling away.

“I’m fine.”

But now I couldn’t stop my hand from coming up to her, and I pressed my hands against her arms. The touch of her cool skin was like a lightning bolt shooting straight from my guts down low. I kept my eyes on hers.

What the fuck are you doing, Harrington?

But I didn’t stop. Her eyes seemed to deepen, the gray widening. I lifted my hand to her face like it was on autopilot. My thumb brushed against her bottom lip, like I could warm the cold that way.

Her eyelids fluttered at my touch. My dick definitely jumped then. We were standing partially obscured in some brush—but still exposed. My damp sweatpants didn’t offer any coverage for my rapidly stiffening cock. If she looked down, she’d know exactly how I felt.

Fuck. This was so bad. So so bad. But at that moment, I didn’t give a fuck. I leaned in toward her. “I—”I’m Blake Harrington. We’ve talked on the phone. Say it, motherfucker. It’s easy.

But I didn’t say it. I leaned in so that our faces were close; I could feel her breath on my lips. Her eyes were just closing when they darted sideways, over my shoulder. She craned her neck, her mouth falling open in surprise, and I dropped my hand.

“Oh shit,” she said, pulling away from me.

She crashed out of the brush, waving her arms. “Eli!”

There was a jogger up on the trail, the first one I’d seen since Cassandra. He slowed to a stop, looking around, confused.

Eli.

Eli Kelly. Cassandra’s brother, and Lila’s old college buddy.

Fuck me. Fuck, fuck, fuck me.

I came out after her. The jogger—Eli—drew to a stop, looking around, confused.

“Over here!” Cassandra shouted.

“That’s my brother!” she said to me. The joy in her expression made my chest hurt.