Show Me the Way (Fight for Me 1)

Carefully, I climbed his steps, hand on the railing as if it offered moral support, and crossed his freshly stained deck. I stopped at his door, my heart the thunder that incited a storm within my chest.

What was I doing?

This was insane.

This guy hated me for no apparent reason at all.

Still, I found myself lifting my hand, my fist quietly knocking at his door.

I was shaking all over by the time the latch turned and the door flew open, and I was again met with the same unwarranted fury from earlier. Although this time it was harder.

All of it.

His scowl and his glare and every gloriously defined ridge of his body.

Oh. My. God.

There was nothing I could do to keep my eyes from dropping to explore the wide expanse of exposed flesh. His shirt was missing, and he was wearing nothing but boxer briefs.

I gulped. That foolish attraction drenched me through, wet and hot and sticky. Flaming free and leaving me weak in the knees.

My gaze latched on the tattoo that ran the entirety of his left upper arm. It was a landscape of a jagged cliff with a waterfall pouring over the side. The splashes rising up from the seething pool of water were bright, colorful feathers that floated and twisted as if blown by the breeze.

Sorrow and hope.

They were so clearly impressed into the depiction.

“What are you doing here?”

The severity in his voice cut through the night, impaling my stupor, jerking my attention up to his face.

Of course, it had to be equally as striking as the rest of him.

Powerful and dominant.

I shook as I took a fumbled step back.

Oh, wow, was this stupid. So damned stupid.

Still, I lifted my chin. “I was just . . .” I fumbled for an excuse to be standing at his door at one in the morning. “Wondering if you had any almond extract?”

His head cocked, and if it were possible, his eyes narrowed even more. “Do I look like I have almond extract?”

“Ummm . . .” I stammered.

Great.

I was a blubbering fool.

This man set me totally off balance. He was so different from the men I was used to back in San Francisco.

Rougher.

Unpolished and raw.

More dangerously beautiful than any man had the right to be.

Maybe it was because he reminded me a tiny bit of Aaron. The asshole back in high school who’d had a hand in the breaking of my heart.

But this was more.

Different.

Everything about Rex Gunner was unique.

Blinding in his darkness.

Warm in his coldness.

“I just—” I gestured back to my house across the street. “I was making my gramma’s cherry pie and was missing almond extract when I saw a light on over here. I thought I would take a chance.”

All moments matter. We just rarely know how important they are until the chance to act on them has already passed.

Was this one of those moments that mattered?

And why did I feel like I had to take this chance?

4

Rex

Lust sieged my body as I stared at her standing in the moonlight like some kind of vision.

Like some kind of wicked enchantress with the face of an angel.

Baking my fucking favorite pie, nonetheless.

Her scent was all around me. Cherries and sugar.

My mouth watered, and I clenched my fists in an effort to keep myself from reaching out and taking a taste for myself.

Maybe I was still back in bed and this was just a new element of the nightmares that haunted me night after night.

If this were a dream, I’d be inviting her in and sinking into that tight body. Fucking her hard and wild. Just the way I liked it. That would be right before she grew fangs and ripped me apart. Hell, with the way she was looking at me, it was clear she was already poised to tear me to shreds.

“Some chances aren’t worth taking,” I said, voice rough with warning. She needed to know she was crossing into territory where she wasn’t welcome. Banging on my door in the middle of the night was completely off-limits. How could this girl possibly think this was okay?

I set my forearm high on the jamb, knowing every inch of me was bristling with the challenge.

All except for my dick. Apparently, that was the only part of me that didn’t seem pissed off at the intrusion.

Her strong chin lifted in her own challenge. “No? Haven’t you ever heard you never know if you don’t try?”

“And how many doors have gotten slammed in your face because of that philosophy?”

“More than I could count. And why do I get the feeling you’re about to add another to that number?”

A disbelieving chuckle rumbled in my chest. This girl was all kinds of grit and determination. “I’m easy to read, I guess.”

A tiny snort huffed from her nose. “Hardly.”

She angled her head, and those warm eyes turned almost pleading. “Listen, I’m going to be living right across the street . . .”