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To say he's not what I was expecting would be the understatement of the century.
I mean, I figured he was probably a tough guy. War hardened. A grizzled, old movie-style drill sergeant.
I also assumed he’d be around my dad’s age which would put him late into his forties. Nope. This guy is maybe forty. And he is strong as hell.
The man is pure muscle and six foot plus. Easily 250 lbs., not that I’m a good judge of guys’ weight. But he makes the college jocks I threw parties for look like twigs with the width of his chest, shoulders, and the massive biceps that look like they're about to tear through the sleeves of his blood-stained T-shirt.
I think I’ve heard the term “brick shithouse” somewhere before, but I never understood it until now. Even so, he doesn’t look like a meathead gym-rat. He’s chiseled, with a bold jaw under dark stubble and stellar cheekbones that frame his hazel eyes so intensely.
Yeah. Intense is the right word.
And scary as hell. Rachelle wasn’t joking.
When he pinned me up against the side of the garage, I thought I was going to die. No question. It’s the second time in my life I’ve had a weapon held to my person, but the first time I genuinely thought I was going to lose my life.
At the same time, it didn’t feel as menacing as the drug dealers or my ex. There was no malice in his eyes, like he enjoyed hurting people. Which is why I was able to hold his gaze and actually explain myself, even if I was shaking the whole time.
It helped that the minute he realized who I was, something shifted, tangibly. His whole posture changed and became gentler.
I’m going to completely ignore the fact that when he was pressed up against me, I may or may not have found it unreasonably hot.
So. Embarrassing.
What’s not embarrassing is admitting that my jaw dropped when I saw him get out of the shower. I should have looked away, but damn.
Any leftover chills I had from standing out in the cold shot right out the window when I saw the way his body moved, powerful and rippling. Heat flooded my cheeks as I took in the curve of his spine, down to an ass that was just begging to be squeezed.
Then he turned around. I can pretend I didn’t see anything as he tucked the towel around him, but I’d be lying.
The man is endowed.
Auburn hair with just a touch of gray at the temples falls in wet strands around his forehead as he stands there in the doorway, staring at me in a way that makes my blood reach a boil in seconds. It must be the danger, the life-or-death situation I’m in that’s got me so flustered and riled up.
I manage to drag my focus back to why I am here long enough to ask him, “Will you help me?”
Sipping my beer gives me something to do while he stands there thinking, basically naked, because that towel is losing the battle with hiding what he’s got between his legs. I can see him weighing the risk, fighting with himself.
“Maybe I should just go. It’s not fair to put you?—”
“Stop. I just need a minute to think. It’s been a rough day.” The circles under his eyes make me think it’s probably been a rough month. It does nothing to diminish his handsome visage. “You can stay here tonight, at least. I’m not sending you driving back down the cliffs in the dark.”
“Thank you, Gavin.”
“Yeah, well.” His nostrils flare when I say his name. I swear that for a second he smirks at me, catching the way my eyes dragged down his body. Then he’s rubbing his neck as he shrugs and kicks the door closed to dress.
“I’ll, uh, take the couch,” I say a little louder so he can still hear me.
“Yeah. You will.” Gavin huffs a sarcastic chuckle as he pops back into the living room in a pair of sweatpants that are almost worse than the towel. His comment has me unintentionally scowling.
“Not that I wanted your bed, but really?” My eyebrows arch and my head cocks to the side.
“I’m not an Air BnB, Hellena. And it’s a pull-out couch, newer and probably more comfortable than my old bed. Besides that…” An odd expression pulls at the side of his mouth, twisting his lips, like he doesn’t know how to approach it.
“You don’t want me going through your stuff, huh? What’s the matter, got stacks of old porn under your bed?” Oof. I just manage to hide a cringe at my own joke. I sound like one of Todd's buddies teasing him like that.
“Oh, yeah, stacks and stacks.” He snorts, playing along as he downs the rest of his beer. “No. It’s actually… serious. I just didn’t want to sound like an asshole barking orders at you.”
“Oh. Oh. Like house rules?”
