Say It's Forever (Redemption Hills 2)

The dread and the relief.

My heart fisted while my head spun.

Enchantress.

“What’s your name, darlin’?”

She hesitated a beat before she whispered, “Salem.”

A disbelieving chuckle got loose without my permission.

Yeah.

Black-fuckin’-magic.

TWO

SALEM

“Come on in, darlin’. Don’t be shy. Make yourself at home.” The man’s voice was basically sandpaper, rough and raw, though it somehow carried an undertone of casualness.

My heart thudded. A wild stampede that beat out ahead of me as I inched toward the door Jud Lawson left open.

I had to have lost my mind.

Following this stranger into his apartment.

Giving him my name like it didn’t matter.

Hell, getting on his bike in the first place.

Like he could command any truth out of me, and I had no power to control it, even when I knew better than giving him anything.

But I’d called my brother about fifteen times while I’d been stranded out in the rain in the middle of nowhere. Each call had gone without an answer.

My spirit had sunk deeper into hopelessness with each attempt.

It’s funny how I’d prayed for help, then I’d wanted to turn around and refuse it when the single headlight had come spearing through the storm.

As if he were some kind of wicked savior, the man had emerged through the hazy darkness.

Bearded and muscled and covered in tattoos.

An imposing force.

A liberator or a conqueror, I couldn’t be sure.

The only thing I’d known was my knees had knocked and my stomach had flipped and every ounce of self-preservation I possessed had flared in warning at my recklessness.

But when you were desperate? You were left with few options, and the ones you were given you had little choice but to take.

Which was precisely the reason why I warily stepped through the door at the top of the stairwell and into his loft.

My eyes raced to take it in. It was just as massive and over-the-top as his shop downstairs. Everything was matte black, burnt metal, and expensive leather.

Rugged and rough and jaw-dropping.

Just like the man.

Jud Lawson moved ahead of me. Each step of his boots across the black bamboo floors sent a shockwave of heat blistering through the cool air.

I fought for conviction. To remain unaffected and aloof.

Not to be the fool that melted on the floor in a puddle of need at his feet.

Accomplishing it would be a feat of nature because the man was outrageously gorgeous.

Forbiddingly so.

So ridiculously tall and wide he had to double me in size.

Intimidating and raw.

Nothing but a beast of a man with this sexy, devilish smile.

And somehow, he seemed soft at the same time, rippling with this charm that tweaked the edges of his plush, sexy mouth and sent a skitter fumbling through my chest.

The hardest part was the way he kept looking at me with these obsidian eyes that were darker than the night. That gaze left no question that if I gave him the chance, he would devour me.

Sucking in a deep breath, I stepped into the loft on shaky legs. I was soaked through, dripping, unsure of what to do.

I wrung my fingers.

The man felt my pause, and he shifted to look back at me with mischief playing across his handsome face.

My stomach twisted in a show of want.

Crap.

I knew better, I knew better.

But attraction was something you couldn’t control.

It was instant.

Unstoppable.

Awakened in a beat before you even knew what was happening.

So, I’d deal with it. Not act on it.

Lifting my chin, I gestured at myself.

I shouldn’t have.

Because those eyes swept over me, head to toe.

Energy lashed.

A crackle in the air.

A whip of lust.

“I’m wet.” I said it like a challenge.

His tongue darted out like he was suddenly thirsty.

Shit.

I took a slippery step back, realizing what I’d said. Where his mind had gone. My thighs pressed together because with the way he kept looking at me, it was the truth.

But seriously, he just wanted me to go parading into this ridiculous luxury that he called a house? It looked like a friggin’ showroom for pretentious masculinity.

Except the man—the man didn’t look so uptight.

A rough chuckle scraped from his throat, and I was wishing it didn’t sound so nice.

“As am I, darlin’.”

He gestured at the giant wet footprints he’d left in his wake.

My throat tremored and my tongue swept my dried lips.

Double crap.

He chuckled more, the deep sound mixing with the pour of the rain on the roof. It was a low whirr that whispered and cast a hazy tone over the space. Lightning flashed at the windows and thunder rumbled through the heavens.

“Wait right there.”

He turned and hulked away, across the living area that took up the right side of the open-concept loft, through the kitchen, and toward the set of double doors at the far back wall.

The man was nothing but bristling, thick muscle, arms and legs bound in overbearing strength.

The exposed skin on his arms was covered in a labyrinth of ink.