Page 57 of Theirs for the Holidays

“Good,” he growls, and his eyes seem to burn even hotter.

For a breathless moment, I think maybe he’s going to kiss me again. Or maybe he’ll push me against the wet shower wall and take me himself. My heart stutters in my chest at the thought of it, and my exhausted body gives a throb of interest.

But Rhett lets me go and steps back, turning on his heel and leaving the bathroom as quickly as he came into it.

20

RHETT

My body ison fire as I stride out of the bathroom, closing the door behind me like it’s going to do something to put a veil over what just happened. I stop, just outside the door, breathing hard while I try to get a hold of myself. When I look down, there’s a wet spot in the front of my pants. I was so fucking turned on, just from watching Violet touch herself and fuck herself on that toy, that I came just from kissing her.

That’s never happened to me before, and if someone had asked me about it before now, I would have said it was impossible for me.

But then—Violet.

I can still taste her on my lips, that sweet warm flavor that’s all her. It takes all of my self-control to not turn around and go right back into the bathroom. To resist the urge to show her how much better I can make her feel than that toy.

It would be good. That much is pretty fucking certain. She’d look at me with those big, luminous eyes, and she’d moan my name and clutch at me while her body gripped my cock and?—

I rip myself out of that thought and walk into the living room with purpose. It’s not happening, it’s not a good idea. So there’s no use fantasizing about it right now. I already crossed a line Ididn’t think I would cross, and I need to clear my fucking head about it.

My stuff is in the living room, crammed into my duffel and out of the way, and I shuck off my wet pants and boxers and put on new, clean ones. I shove the dirty ones into the bag like I can hide from what they represent and then go outside.

The cold air is a relief on my heated skin, and I realize I didn’t bring a jacket. I’m just in a sweater and my jeans, but that’s fine. The bite in the air will help with this.

I grab the axe from where I left it last time and start stacking logs to chop. Violet has a near endless supply of them from the big oak tree that she had taken down in her yard, and that’s good. I need something methodical and simple to focus on. Something to push my body through physical work while letting me process and tame my raging thoughts.

Before I came back here, I was at the park playing chess with Simon. His offer to come play with him was a good one, and Simon’s a good man, so I can see why Violet’s grandmother liked him.

He’s a simple, down to earth guy, easy to get along with, the kind of man I like to be around. And it turns out that he’s fucking great at chess. I’m pretty good myself, but Simon thoroughly beat me and didn’t feel bad about it for a second.

Maybe that’s because I’ve only had myself to play against for months, living alone in my cabin with no one else around. It’s hard to get better when you’re only up against your own skill, with no challenges other than the ones you invent to keep the game interesting.

My fingers tighten around the handle of the axe and I bring it down with more force than necessary, splitting the log into two pieces that scatter from the stump and fall to the frozen ground.

I huff out a breath and pick them up, splitting one and then the other. I’m on edge, but it’s better for me to take it out on the wood than anything else.

My head feels so full right now, all the thoughts swirling around in a chaotic mass. Before now, everything was under control. I had my cabin, my peace, my quiet little life. I did only what I wanted to do, and no one was there to throw wrenches into my routine.

I knew coming back here was going to change that, but I didn’t know just how much. I liked my simple life, and now there are so many fucking complications. Now it all feels like it’s unraveling around me, and I’m left clutching the fraying threads, unsure how to move forward.

Ithunkthe axe into the wood and set up another log to be chopped. This one is bigger, heftier than most of the others, and I set it on the stump with a grunt.

It takes two swings to get all the way through it, and my arms burn pleasantly from the movement. The sound of the axe splitting through the wood, the logs hitting the ground with their predictable noises, it’s all what I’m used to.

It helps.

But at the same time… there’s a part of me that wonders if my life was really as uncomplicated as I think. If I was actually trying to get rid of all the distractions, all the little snarls and tangles that made things difficult to deal with, or if I was just running away. If I was just hiding from the messiness of everything.

It’s hard to say.

Before I can work through it, I hear cars pulling into the driveway, and the slam of the doors, followed by voices talking.

Lennox and Sawyer must be back.

A few minutes pass, and then the back door opens and both of them step outside to see me there.

“What’s with you?” Lennox asks.