Leave Me Breathless

I smile as I rip a bandage open, remembering the paint splatters all over her the other night. ‘Then tell me, what’s your favourite thing to paint?’

‘I love the outdoors. Colour, nature.’ She smiles, lighting up her face some more. ‘So landscapes, mainly. Things of natural beauty.’ Listening to her talk about something she so clearly loves is . . . enjoyable.

Hannah’s eyes glisten as she stares at me, and suddenly the easy atmosphere shifts, the air thickening. The bandage sits in my useless hand, her foot on my knee, and I’ve completely forgotten what I was doing. Her tongue wets her lips. Oh shit. Adorable and effortlessly sexy. Desire races through me with a vengeance. ‘Things of natural beauty,’ I say quietly, and she nods slowly. ‘So you want to paint me, right?’

A grin slowly forms, and she breaks out in laughter, her head thrown back. My eyes lock on her throat, the smooth lines down the column positively begging for me to put my mouth there. Fucking hell, Ryan. Sort your shit out.

I slap the bandage on her knee a bit heavy-handed, and she yelps, her laughter gone in a second. Hannah looks at me, startled, and despite knowing I should apologize, I don’t. I place her foot on the ground, then rise to my feet. I’m uncomfortable with how comfortable this woman makes me feel. She’s like a precious box of adorableness. Her blond hair is a mass of messy waves pinned up haphazardly, her dark roots bold and undoubtedly meant to be, and the scarf knotted on her head is the brightest of blues you could find. And don’t get me started on her big, sapphire eyes. They’re hypnotising. She’s so slim, I want to feed her. Does she eat? Look after herself? I should cook her a burger. A big one. And watch her eat it. Whoa! I clear my throat and back away.

‘So you live here?’ Hannah stands, aware of my sudden withdrawal.

‘Home sweet home,’ I say quietly as she gazes around. She’s impressed, and I don’t know why that pleases me. The only other woman I’ve ever so much as touched in Hampton hates this place. Hannah isn’t like her. Nothing like her. I push away thoughts of the woman who is the epitome of high maintenance. A woman who has an exceptional ability to make everyone feel beneath her. A woman who tried to take away the one thing in this world I adore. A woman I fucking hate.

‘Is that an outside shower?’ Hannah’s question yanks me back to the here and now, where a woman stands before me looking at my sanctuary like it’s the most amazing thing she’s ever seen. She’s not appalled in the least bit. Just awed. It feels . . . nice.

‘Yes, it is.’

‘And a hammock?’

I nod as she continues to take in my land, from the barbecue to the veranda circling my cabin. She turns and walks over to the shower stall and peeks around the wooden slats, up to the spray. ‘We’re in England. It must be freezing most of the time.’

‘It’s heated,’ I explain, joining her and flipping the lever. ‘Connected to the cabin’s central heating system.’ The water hits the polished concrete slabs and splashes up our legs, and she nods with a thoughtful smile, gazing around again while I turn off the shower, wandering here and there, looking back at me every so often.

‘You built all this, didn’t you?’ she asks, and I nod my confirmation. ‘So you’re good with your hands?’ My eyebrows shoot up without thought, and she laughs a little. Fuck, that sound. ‘It’s wonderful here,’ she says. ‘I love it.’ And why does that make me so happy? Since when have I cared what a woman thinks of me and my way of living? My mind is going off on a tangent, and I look back at my outdoor shower. A woman has never been in that shower. What would Hannah look like in it? I jolt, kicking myself into line, finding that Hannah has put herself in my hammock. She’s swinging back and forth, looking up at the treetops. I let her have her moment, not prepared to interrupt her when she’s clearly so serene. Peaceful suits her. And she looks damn good in my hammock. Now she’s humming, too. I smile to myself, though it’s curious, and watch her for a while, my head whirling.

‘Comfortable there?’ I ask as she lifts her head and squints to see me.

‘I’m moving in.’

I laugh under my breath, unable to stop myself. ‘You sure do move fast. You only straddled me ten minutes ago.’

Her eyes drop to my chest, reminding me that it’s still bare. ‘Yeah,’ she all but breathes, struggling to sit up. The hammock swings precariously, and she yelps, forcing me to dive forward and steady her. Though I make damn sure we don’t end up in a messy pile of bodies this time. ‘I’m not usually this clumsy,’ she blurts, holding my forearms and throwing her legs over the side.