Page 13

T he sun is blistering as it beats down on my skin. Smoldering hot. My clothes are sticking to my body like glue. The tank top I am wearing is soaking wet and thank God I opted for shorts and not leggings. Even with my hair piled high into a bun, strands cling to my sweaty neck.

I for sure am going to melt to death.

I stab the shovel into the soil and wipe the sweat from my brow. Screw this. It’s too hot.

Where is the water hose? Circling the duplex, I finally locate it and quickly open the valve. With my thumb resting over the open end, I let the water hit my arms, then my neck.

Yes. This is perfect.

I tilt my head back and move the hose above my head, letting it trickle over me like a steady shower. With my body drenched in sweat, I welcome this.

It’s cold at first, but then instantly soothes my burning skin.

I’ll just finish the yard work another day. So much for being productive on my day off.

Footsteps startle me, causing me to drop the hose. It flails around at full force, spraying everything in its path including Logan, who apparently scared the shit out of me.

He wrangles the hose like it’s a snake, but it’s too late. He’s drenched. His shirt is sopping like mine. Every single ripple of muscle shows through the thin, wet material and my body hums. A desire burns in places I never experienced before.

I stare and he stares right back, skimming down every inch of my wet body. My nipples perk underneath my soaked shirt and Logan takes notice. His eyes deepen with sudden heat and the feeling between my thighs has me panting.

If this were a movie, I’m pretty sure the two leads would be on each other right now. But this is no movie, and Logan doesn’t want me like that. I’m just a nearly naked woman in front of a man.

He moves first, stalking toward me and I force myself to blink. Our wet arms brushing each other’s along the way. Seconds later, the water stops.

I watch as he runs his hand through the top of his wet hair, brushing it away from his forehead. I like the way his hair falls messy with tiny waves around his ears.

I clear my throat. “Well. This is awkward,” I pant out, my smile slanting to the side in an unnatural position, and he smirks in amusement.

There it is. There’s that half smile I’ve been dying to witness. And yes, he has a dimple.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says as he takes another quick glance down my body.

Did he need to do that? Because honestly, I feel like running toward him and straddling him like a maniac in heat.

“You did scare me, but to be fair, I’m pretty sure the universe saw an opportunity and ran with it.”

He glances at my chest, then quickly looks away, nervously rubbing his neck—a recurring gesture of his.

I make him nervous.

I cross my arms over my breasts, trying to hide any evidence that I’m a horny mess. “Um… yeah. I was trying to plant flowers, but it got extremely hot out. Hence the hose.”

“It is a scorcher.” He nods, trying to focus his attention anywhere but me. I’m doing the same. But every now and again, my gaze falls to the hard ripples of his abs. And… the tattoos. Oh God.

“I should probably go inside and change,” I say breathlessly, stealing another selfish look at my sexy neighbor. I really do appreciate how his shirt is clinging to him right now.

His chest rises with a sudden urge, and I swallow, scraping my teeth along my bottom lip.

“That’s probably a good idea,” he agrees, and I should be happy to leave this behind, but every hormone in my body is yelling at me to throw myself at this poor guy.

My lack of affection from any man is to blame I suppose.

We both decide to move simultaneously, with neither one of us having time to dodge the other.

I land right into his stone chest, my breasts bouncing off him, sending my body backward.

It’s not the movement that almost makes me trip, but my damn foot getting caught in the hose.

He catches me with an arm around the waist, my palms planted on his pectorals, and I swear I stop breathing.

I don’t dare look up, my heart thudding against my chest. But the impulse is impossible to ignore.

His eyes are fire looking down at me and his grip for a second tightens before he pulls me even closer to him. My vagina is in a frenzy with him teasing, nudging my legs apart with his knee.

His hardness begs to pierce me as I feel him through his jeans . My breath catches with lust and a fierce sensation rush through my veins.

But he jerks away, leaving me with the sight of his rose-colored cheeks.

“Sora,” he says my name with a labored breath.

“Logan.”

His hulking frame stalks off as I sprint up the stairs to Lana’s front door. Only once I am securely behind it, am I able to release the tension in my shoulders.

“Holy fucking crap.” I stay still, breathing in what air I can find. “What just happened?” I place a hand over my thumping heart then chug a glass of water.

I’m on fire. Everywhere. Sizzling. Men don’t do this to me. Well, not the men I’ve been around, and Jason would clock my every move, making sure I didn’t stray off. He could have his side flings, but I was stuck, trapped with his loveless affection.

With Logan I’m turned on, beaming in the brightest fucking setting. But it’s still only a crush. A physical attraction which I believe he would agree.

Jason’s handsome, sure. But he’s also arrogant. Prim. Proper. Boring sophisticated. Where Logan is rugged. Rough. Manly. Panty dripping sexy. Which isn’t my first time thinking that.

I’m intrigued, to say the least, but nothing more.

Lana comes bursting through the front door into the kitchen and I almost drop my cup. Everyone needs to stop coming out of nowhere.

“Heya.” She halts, checking me out. “Why are you soaked?”

“Long story.” I get another round of water, chugging it down. “By the way, I don’t have a damn clue on how to plant flowers.”

She closes the door, softly setting down her purse while never losing eye contact. “Oookayy.”

I shake my head. “Lana. I don’t know how to plant flowers!” I sink into my shoulders as I lean on the counter.

“It’s okay. I’ll show you. It’s easy. All you do is—”

“No. You don’t get it. I can’t do anything. I don’t know how to survive in the real world, Lana. I have zero life skills.” My voice shakes and I know the tears are coming.

For a long time, I’ve maintained composure. I can keep it up. I have to.

“Hey.” She approaches, turning me to face her. “You are smart. Caring. Fucking beautiful. And you’re my best friend. Let’s not forget you bake the best damn desserts I have ever tasted. You’re finding yourself again.”

A hiccup of a sob escapes me. I am trying to find myself again. A woman lost in her past. But I don’t want that to define me.

“Sora. Look at me.”

I do as I swipe a tear from my face.

“What happened? Why did you run? Please tell me. I won’t judge. But you gotta let me in.”

I want to tell her. So badly I did. The words are there. Begging to come out. Everything that has happened, but I can’t. I don’t want her to carry the weight of the skeletons in my closet.

“Thank you, and you know I love you. You’ve always been like a sister to me. Even if I’ve been… closed off all these years.” Not sure if closed off is a good way of putting it, but that would have to do for now.

Hurt flashes in her eyes. “I love you too, Sora.”

Disappointing someone so important to me is a knife in the gut.

I leave my best friend to let the warm shower drown away my sorrow. With the odd feeling of someone watching me, I snap the shower curtain open and wipe away the condensation from the small window. As I stare out of it, my body ignites, the water still streaming down my back.

Logan is swimming. In the lake. And now he’s getting out of the lake. Hard muscles flex when he pulls himself up on the pier.

Ugh.

I yank the curtain closed, mentally cursing myself for finding Logan so undeniably sexy. If he wanted to cool off, why doesn’t he just take a cold shower?

With the soap and water cascading down my skin, I fight like hell to not imagine Logan’s hands all over me, rubbing every part of my nakedness.

And it’s his soap. That cedar fragrance.

The smell that makes my insides flutter.

Then he would tease me with his powerful hardness of his because my God, Logan is packing.

Logan

Sora. The most beautiful woman I have ever seen, and she was wet.

Dripping wet in a see-through tank top. My mind won’t quit playing the scenes of her and that fucking hose.

I fought the impulse to throw her over my shoulder, march her inside to hide her away from any possible prying eyes.

I wanted to be the only one to see her like that.

How she tilted back, showing off her delicate neck while the water trickled down between her perfect breasts.

Jesus Christ.

And me with my fucking cock I couldn’t control.

I run my hand down my face, taking the lake water with it. I went for a run and then a swim. Nowadays, staying active has become an addictive distraction. For the sake of my sanity, I wish I ran an extra block.

I wonder what she’s doing at this very moment. Is she thinking of me like I’m constantly thinking of her? Is she still soaking wet? And did it even fucking matter?

I can’t place it. Can’t figure out what it is about this woman. Why she drives me so goddamn crazy. But she did. She’s intense. Mysterious. And my interest eats away at me like a disease. Only she isn’t a disease, she’s my addiction. A powerful, crippling addiction.

But how? In just a matter of days, how can this woman have such a strong impact on me?

I want to peel back every layer Sora has, one by one, until I discover her demons. Because whatever they are, I’d destroy them.

That’s what she did to me.