Finding Him (Covet 2)

“You don’t understand.” Panic set in. “I couldn’t do this at home, couldn’t get the words out—” Damn it, I felt weak. “I thought being in the one place . . .” I squeezed my eyes shut. “Never mind, you wouldn’t understand.”

“Rich-girl problems?” He smirked.

“Really?”

“Sorry,” he quipped. “Old habits . . . I’m not the most trusting person on the planet.”

“Yeah, well, waking up to a world very much changed probably does that to someone . . .”

He was silent and then he whispered, “It really does.”

“I need to come back.” I tried again. “I promised him and the publisher that gave me an advance that I’d write our story.”

His interest seemed piqued as he tilted his head and pulled my body tighter against his. I couldn’t think clearly when he was that close, when I could see the gold flecks in his eyes. “I bet that’s hard.”

“Why would you say that?” I said defensively.

His eyes softened. “Because the story has to end, and you’ll have to type the final words that nobody wants to repeat let alone release into the universe . . . The End. You may as well be typing The End of Us, The End of Love, The End of Everything. I don’t envy you that, not one bit.”

He spoke like he knew of loss. Was he talking about his fiancée? No, there was genuine hurt in his eyes right along with fear and anxiety. It was like looking into a mirror.

I stared at the fur blanket surrounding us. “How about those pancakes?”

“Almost forgot.” His smile was forced. “Stay by the fire and I’ll be just a minute. Any requests?”

“I’m shocked you can even cook,” I teased.

“I can’t.” He let out a laugh. “So if they taste like shit, eat them anyway and keep my pride intact, yeah?”

I gulped because when he stood to his full height, the fur blanket loosened from my body and pooled around his legs. I sucked in a breath and tried not to look affected, but he was everything I didn’t realize I’d been missing in a man.

I wanted to hate him for pointing it out without realizing.

He was healthy.

So healthy.

Strong.

Virile.

With thick legs and corded muscles around his midsection.

Even his color screamed health.

I locked eyes with him and nodded. “I’m starving. Beggars can’t be choosers.”

“Hmm.” He crossed his arms and then gave me a view of his ass as he quickly grabbed a pair of sweats lying across the couch and pulled them on.

I would never admit I was disappointed.

Just like I wouldn’t admit that I felt guilty because I stared.

Guilty that I found him attractive.

Guilty that my heart was beating so wildly against my chest.

Guilty that Noah’s wasn’t.

Guilty that Julian was right.

I didn’t want to type the words.

The End.

And a part of me worried . . . I never would.

Chapter Ten

JULIAN

I didn’t show any outward reaction, when internally I was a complete mess. What were the odds? Both of us in the same cabin at the same time, miserable, angry, and without electricity until the generator finally kicked on?

She’d lost the love of her life.

And part of me wanted to say, I know how it feels.

The staggering conclusion my brain came to had me reeling for the next thirty minutes as I read directions and tried to make pancakes that didn’t taste like complete shit.

My mom.

She was the love of my life.

When I thought about loss.

Losing something precious and valuable.

I thought of her.

Only her.

My hands shook as I dumped the batter into the skillet and waited for it to bubble so I could flip it. Keaton had been silent, dozing in and out of sleep. Every few minutes I’d glance over my shoulder to make sure she was alright, and every few minutes I would curse the blanket that kept inching down the right side of her body until I saw nipple.

Not just any nipple.

But the perfect nipple.

I’d seen a lot of naked women in my life, not because I constantly cheated on my fiancée, though I did make one unforgivable mistake, but women had a tendency to pull off their clothes in my presence. Didn’t matter if it was a bar, a seedy bathroom, the boardroom—they wanted me to see the goods, and all of them thought the same thing.

If I saw, I’d take.

They had no clue that I didn’t give a fuck.

That I’d stopped feeling the minute I realized I couldn’t get Isobel back. A drowning man doesn’t want more water—he just wants a life raft.

And I’d been drowning so long without any hope of rescue.

Until I almost died.

Should have died.

I snorted and flipped the pancake over and waited while the sun started rising over the horizon. At least three feet of snow covered the mountainside, and what I could see of the outside was so bright that it burned my eyes.