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Sawyer headed to those older cabins.
I cling to the idea that it could be him driving so late, and I hurry to the porch.
Too many questions sit in my mind about him. While I’m stubborn enough to avoid the vulnerability of reaching out to him, I wish he would come to me.
Stop getting your hopes up. Clearly, it was a mistake. As I prop my forearms on the porch railing to watch him inevitably drive past, I sigh and think back to how Kevin judged me earlier. He was so quick to think Sawyer wouldn’t ever be with a woman like me. He pointed out that I was the opposite of his laid-back brother, and it hit me like a lightbulb going off.
Was I too needy that night? Doubting myself and rejecting his compliment? Did I make myself too vulnerable that Sawyer felt like he had to take care of me, getting nothing in return? Maybe that’s why he’s done and moving on.
To my surprise, his truck slows, then stops in the drive.
I hold my breath as the driver’s door opens. It’s like I’ve summoned him here, and I don’t know what to think or how to act.
He steps out of the truck, his intense gaze on me. The lights on the porch show me plenty of details on his rugged face, and I swallow at the instant hit of desire that cloaks me.
I want him. Damn, do I want him as he stalks toward me, climbing the steps to reach me up here. Without a word, he stares at me so intensely, and I fall under the spell of wishing he could just be mine.
“Did I do something wrong?” I regret that it’s the first thing I blurt out. Not a hello. No question as to what he’s doing here. Just an automatic worry and assumption that Sawyer and I can’t work. That Kevin is right to scoff at the idea of his brother wanting me.
Sawyer shakes his head, sighing as he sets foot on the porch. He pauses for so long that I get impatient, too curious for any mind games.
“No. You didn’t do anything wrong,” he says carefully.
A tense moment spans between us, but beneath the silence of our stare-down, I want to crumble under the suspense. This electricity still sizzles between us, and more than ever, I’m drawn to him.
“I—”
I lose track of whatever I was going to blurt out, cut off by his quick steps over the wooden planks. He approaches me swiftly, sauntering toward me with an unreadable expression that looks a lot like desire.
He reaches out to grab my sides, and I give in. I cave. Leaning close, I fall against his hard chest as he hugs me tightly and slams his lips to mine.
Chapter 22
Sawyer
Hearing the worry in Claire’s voice cuts at me, but feeling her soft lips pressing against mine soothes that ache. I have her in my hands, and as I clutch her sides, I feel better just knowing she’s here, with me, and still holding this passion that I can’t shake off.
The very idea of her doing something to turn me away is ridiculous, but I’m not shocked that she’s taken that route of wondering and fretting about where things stand between us. Avoiding her like I have been, I’ve given her nothing but every reason to assume the worst of this situation.
But it’s not her fault. None of this is her fault. Shying away from the depth of my feelings for her is all on me, and I hate that I went so far to push her away.
“No,” I tell her again as I walk her back to her still-open front door. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
She peers up at me with wide, trusting eyes. I see the vulnerability there. She has a shaky, iffy trust in me now, but she’s giving me hope at the same time. I’m glad she doesn’t protest and demand that we stand out here and talk. Instead, she’s open and willing, maybe just as desperate as I am, to be led inside her cabin.
I kick the door shut after we enter, and I waste not a second to cup her face and kiss her soundly. Her moans make my dick hard. Every time she pushes up to secure our mouths in this sloppy, messy kiss, I want to growl. And when she slips her tongue out to find mine and duel, I stumble through her living room.
I kick my boots off and leave them by the door; I don’t want to dirty up her personal space by bringing the outside in here.
“Then why—” She pants hard, catching her breath as we cling to each other and weave our way toward her room. “Why—” She’s not stammering or stuttering, but confused and torn. I wouldn’t expect any less of her. While she wants me, she’s not a pushover to forget about the way I’ve shunned her after Denver.
At the door to her bedroom, she fists my shirt and sharpens her gaze on me. “Why did you dismiss me? Was I too needy?”
I choke on a laugh, incredulous that she’d ever go there. Too needy? “When the hell did I ever suggest that?”
“When…” She licks her lips, reaching for my jeans and sliding my belt through the buckle. “When you took care of me. When you treated me so affectionately. Like I was fragile and delicate—”
I pick her up and carry her to the bed, where I drop her onto the mattress. She bounces and looks up at me, grinning as I stare down at her. I’ve never wanted a woman more, and I hope I’m not making a bigger mistake by going weak with her.
