Page 10 of Take Me Slowly, Part 1 (Aurora Hollow duet #1)

LEAH

I stared at his hand, totally not wondering how it would feel between my legs, his fingers sliding inside me.

"Turn around."

"I can't help you with my back turned," he said. He was starting to look irritated.

"Close your eyes then," I insisted. "You don't need to see you to help me."

He stared at me for a moment. Drew back his hand and pushed his sleeve up to his elbow. Before I could say anything, he plunged his hand into the bath, down between my legs and pulled out the plug.

"Now, are you going to sit there and get cold, or are you going to let me help you?" He straightened up and shook water and bubbles off his arm.

"That was a dick move." I watched the water turn in increasingly rapid circles as it disappeared down the drain.

"What can I say, I'm a dick." He shrugged and offered his hand again.

"Just remember you said it." I grabbed his hand and levered myself to my feet before carefully stepping over the side of the bath and onto the floor. I snatched a towel from the rack and wrapped it around myself before he could get too much of an eyeful.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" He took a couple of steps back and leaned against the wall, his half-lidded eyes on me. Yeah, he'd seen plenty. And he seemed to like what he saw.

"Is that something you want to admit?" I dried my hair with another towel and wrapped it around my head.

He grinned. "I have no problem in that department, honey."

"If you say so." I stepped past him out of the bathroom.

"Thanks for helping me." My joints still ached, but they'd be better tomorrow.

Sleeping during a flare-up was often almost impossible.

Every time I rolled over, my body screamed at me.

I didn't want to rely on Tylenol, but some days I had no choice.

While I dressed quickly in a pair of sweatpants and a tank top, I heard him rustling around in the kitchen, opening cabinets and pulling things out. Walking carefully and gingerly, I stepped out to see what he was doing.

"You don't have much," he said over his shoulder.

"I've been meaning to stock up." That was today's plan before the flare-up had other ideas.

"I'll bring you some things for dinner, then I need to get back to the Frosty Brew." He closed the cabinet in front of him and stalked towards the door.

"I can manage," I said.

He stopped with his hand on the doorknob and looked back. "How?" His gaze travelled down my body to my swollen feet. "They still hurt."

I glanced down. "Yeah, but?—"

He cut me off. "Then lie down. Or sit down. Stream a romcom or two, read a book. I won't be long."

I wanted to argue, but all of that sounded too good. Everything except the bit where he'd want something in return at some point.

"What's Riley going to say?" I asked.

"Why would he say anything?" Connor asked. Yet, he didn't seem surprised by the question.

"He seemed to think I was hoping to choke on his cock," I said as I lowered myself onto the couch. "He also seemed to want me to leave town. I don't want to cause trouble between you."

Although, if there was trouble between them, they'd be the cause of it, not me. I was an innocent bystander.

"He needs to get to know you," Connor said. "He'll realise you're not leaving. Don't worry about getting between us. When that happens, it'll be completely consensual." He smiled slowly, very sure that would happen. Certain, like he was of everything else.

"What makes you think I'm interested in being the meat in your sandwich?" I asked.

Was I? Okay, yes I was. There'd be worse things in the world than being between two hot mountain men, even if they were assholes.

"What makes you think you have a choice?" With that, he twisted the knob and stepped out of the door, leaving it ajar behind him.

I gaped, but I knew he wasn't being literal.

His hands on my feet and legs and the way he made the bath the perfect temperature told me I always had a choice.

Connor Ferguson was gentler than he tried to let on.

The asshole mountain man routine was a facade.

A mask against…what? I didn't know, but in spite of myself, I was curious to find out.

I grabbed up the TV remote from where I left it on the coffee table and rolled through the streaming services on the big screen TV.

Not looking for a romantic comedy. I finally settled on a cooking show, where the host was making some kind of elaborate dessert.

The kind that made me put on weight just by watching them add ingredients to the bowl.

I half-watched it while I kept an eye on the door, and listened for his footsteps outside.

Honestly, I wasn't expecting him to return at all.

I might have been his good deed for the day, and now he was done.

If that was the case, I'd order food in.

I'd have to be careful of my dwindling finances, but a girl had to eat.

Having sold all of my paintings at the market the day before helped, but it wouldn't last long.

I needed to draw and paint more, be ready for the next influx of tourists.

With any luck, they'd be hungry for a visual reminder of their time here.

If I had to, I could do caricatures of them, but that was a last resort.

"Honey, I'm home." Connor pushed the door open and stepped inside, bags in either hand.

"You don't live here," I reminded him. "You shouldn't have got all of that for me either." It looked like he spent a small fortune on groceries.

"I'm not taking it back." He placed the bags on the kitchen counter and started to unpack and put everything away in the fridge and cabinets. "I bought a couple of things for you to heat up, so you don't have to cook until you're ready."

"If you're not careful, you're going to ruin your reputation of being an asshole," I said.

"No, I won't, because no one would believe you if you told them." He smirked over the door of the fridge as he placed a bottle of milk inside.

"I should have videoed this," I said with mock regret. "Then I'd have proof."

"I'd make you delete it," he said.

"You think you can make me do anything?" I leaned against the back of the couch and watched him move around the small kitchen like he belonged there.

"I know I can." He closed the fridge and folded the empty grocery bags, leaving them carefully piled on each other.

"Okay." I watched the television chef scrape ice cream into neat balls and place them on the dessert plate. The whole thing looked fancy and delicious.

"Leah," Connor said.

I ignored him and instead watched the chef dig into the desert they'd just finished making.

"Leah." Connor pressed. He stepped over and knelt down between me and the TV.

"Is this where you threaten to spank me for not replying?" I asked.

What was I saying? I couldn't believe those words came out of my mouth. Now they had, I waited for his response, my breath hitching in the back of my throat.

"This is where I say I have to go," he said with regret. "The spanking will have to wait for another time." The look in his eyes suggested it was definitely a when and not an if.

I glanced down to where the front of his shirt was open, showing a sprinkling of dark hair.

"Seriously, thank you," I said softly. "Flare-up days are the worst. Usually I just…

I don't know, push through. You made it easier today.

" Without him, I would have relied on heat packs and pain pills, doing my best to manage the inflammation while attempting not to lose my shit and cry at the frustration of my body betraying me like this.

I knew some people had it a lot worse than I did, but it still sucked.

It felt like a sentence I'd been given without knowing why.

He might never know how much his help actually meant to me. I might not even admit it to myself. Pride was a difficult thing to put aside, especially given everything I'd lost to my semi-broken body. The things I didn't want to think about right now.

Connor glanced away. He seemed as comfortable with receiving gratitude as I did with asking for help. Like he wished he was anywhere but there in that moment. Doing just about anything.

"Don't mention it," he mumbled. "Really don't. Like I said, no one would believe you anyway." His mouth turned down and his brow creased. His grumpy mask was pushed firmly back into place.

"Why do you want everyone to think you're an asshole?" I asked. The more I saw of him, the more I realised there was a lot more to Connor Ferguson than he let on. He was arrogant and smug on the outside. On the inside, there was someone decent. A man who cared about people other than himself.

His gaze settled on my lips, as if he was thinking of kissing me. "Because it's easier."

"Easier than what?" I asked. "Easier than people thinking you're actually a nice guy?"

"Easier than people hoping I'm a nice guy and being disappointed." He pushed himself to his feet and stalked out the door, closing it forcefully behind him. The doorframe rattled from the impact, making me wince. His footsteps slapped on the ground as he walked away.

"I'm not sure that's what they'd think," I whispered to my empty cottage. Was I reading too much into this? Just because someone was nice once didn't make them a good person. He'd probably spend the rest of forever being a dick to me, just to prove he really was one.

If that was how he wanted to play it, fine. Either way, I was going to have to find some way to repay him for this.

Whether he liked it or not.