My car stopped my retreat, and I placed my palms flat on the cold metal. He stared down at me for a long second, and maybe I should’ve been unnerved by his intensity, at the way his dark eyes were penetrating and latched on to me like an unbreakable bond.
It was as if he couldn’t bear to look away. I know the feeling.
“I don’t think anything would make me happier right now, Dolly.”
I exhaled and nodded slowly, not sure what to say—if I could even find the words to converse with him. He reached his hand out, and my entire body tightened, my mind envisioning him running those long, strong fingers along my arm, over my neck, and gently curling around my throat as he held me immobile for whatever he wanted to do.
I’d never wanted a kiss as much as I wanted that from Tristan.
I’d never wanted to have sex so much until right this very moment, until I knew without a doubt Tristan would claim me in a way that would ruin all other experiences in the future.
And if he ever did take me, claim me, mark me as his… I knew I’d never be the same. I might not be very experienced, but I could handle anything a man like Tristan gave me.
But he didn’t touch me. Instead, he reached over and opened the back door again, which I had closed when I'd retreated from his massive form.
I moved to the side and exhaled as he opened the back passenger door farther. He grabbed a couple bags, and when he faced me again, I swore my heart stopped when he winked. I knew he was fully aware of the effect he had on me, and I didn't know how to handle that.
He turned and started heading toward the house, and I sagged against the car as I watched him leave, his strides powerful as he stepped into the house.
My house now.
Yeah, I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to last with my sanity intact living under the same roof as Tristan. And for a moment, I played with the idea that going insane wasn’t the worst thing in the world to happen, especially if it was because of him.
7
Dolly
He’d been watching me the entire time I cooked dinner. I felt his gaze on me, but I thought I’d done a good job of pretending like I didn’t notice him. It had been harder said than done. I set the last dish on the table, smoothed my hands over the apron I’d tied around my waist, and finally glanced up at the doorway of the kitchen and dining room to see him leaning against the frame, staring at me.
His big arms were crossed over his chest, and I told myself over and over again that I would not stare at the clear definition of his muscles under the material of his shirt. I knew he worked at Blake Auto, but it was also clear he kept in prime physical condition working on his land. That was evident by the slabs of muscles and obvious strength he exuded.
It was also evident in the way calluses marred his big, wide hands… ones I’d pictured far too many times holding me down as he did totally inappropriate and filthy things to me.
“I hope you like lasagna.” The rag I used to carry the hot dishes to the table was in my hand, and I twisted it tightly, using it as something to calm me down, to keep my thoughts grounded. Of course even that didn’t help. I felt so unbalanced where Tristan was concerned. “It’s my father’s recipe, and my favorite meal. I hope it’s yours as well, or at least one you don’t hate.” I tried to tease, but the serious look on his face had the amusement fleeing.
He pushed away from the frame and stepped inside, stopping by the table and looking down at everything I’d placed on top of it. The dish of cheesy, browned, and bubbly lasagna. There was a side salad, a plate of homemade garlic bread, and a few small ramekins of freshly grated Parmesan and mozzarella.
“It looks incredible,” he said deeply and lifted his head so we were gazing at each other again. “Thank you. I’ve never had anyone make me a home-cooked meal before.”
I felt my eyebrows rise in shock. “No?” He shook his head slowly and walked around to the side of the table to pull the chair out, gesturing for me to sit down. Once I was seated, I watched as he walked to the fridge and grabbed a couple beers out for us. He turned back and held one out for me, a silent question that I nodded my agreement and thanks to. He popped the cap and came closer. I grabbed the beer, our fingers brushing. I hoped he didn’t see the way my body slightly shivered in response.