In Bed with Mr. Wrong (6 page)

Chapter Six

“But this doesn’t make any sense.”

After a good ten minutes outside, Bri had been forced to retreat to the—marginally—warmer
cabin. It didn’t look any different than it had the first time she walked through,
a cozy setup that was used for hunters, based on the mossy oak pattern covering everything
paired with the heavy wooden features. It wasn’t somewhere she’d choose on her own,
in part because she wasn’t all that much for camping or hunting or anything that involved
crawling through the woods in less than ideal weather conditions.

She was mentally wandering, she realized. Or maybe just avoiding looking at the man
standing near the door, his arms crossed in front of his massive chest. The man she’d
practically thrown herself at every time they were within touching distance.

“They’re coming back,” she said. They had to be.

“No, they aren’t.”

She dug through her purse, cold fingers slipping over her phone twice before she managed
to snag it.

Damn. She had no cell reception.

Panic reared its ugly head. There had to be a way out of this. Her friends knew how
she felt about Ryan—or at least how she told them she felt. But hormones didn’t count
as feelings, so it didn’t matter if her body was perking up just from being in the
same room as him. Even though she wanted to go running into the snow and chase Avery
down, she also couldn’t help but remember how good he’d felt when she threw herself
into his arms back in the bedroom.

Granted, attacking him wasn’t her finest moment, but she’d been terrified when she
heard someone walking through the cabin and they didn’t call out. She was surprised
she’d had the courage to grab that chair—even if it hadn’t worked out like it had
for the heroine in the last book she read. Fiction rarely translated over into reality—a
fact she was all too aware of.

“Give me your cell phone.”

Ryan’s brows dropped. “I don’t think so.” He pulled out the phone and grimaced. “You
know what? Maybe if you see this for yourself, you’ll finally believe that my brother
and Avery have every intention of leaving us out here.”

She took the phone in shaking hands, skimming over the text message from Drew three
times before the words penetrated.
Work your shit out. We’ll be back for you on Sunday. Watch out for mountain lions.
To make matters worse, his phone showed the same “no service” emblem hers did.

“No. No, no, no, no,
no
! They wouldn’t do this to me! They can’t!”

“We’ve already covered this. They can and they did. So just relax.”

“Relax? How can you say that at a time like this? We’re trapped! We’re going to starve
to death over the next three days.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so.” He moved around her, keeping a careful distance between
them, and opened the nearest kitchen cabinet. It was stocked full of canned goods
and bags of chips. Then he opened the fridge, which was equally full. He pointed at
a fruit basket in the middle of the kitchen island and frowned as he reached into
it. “They put some planning into this.” He held up a packet of condoms that had been
nestled in next to the oranges and apples. “If circumstances were different, I might
be impressed.”

“
Impressed
? Of course you would! This is exactly what you want—me, trapped here where I can’t
get away from you.”

He dropped the condoms. “You really think I had something to do with this?”

She wouldn’t put it past him. He’d certainly been angry enough when she’d climbed
into Drew’s truck and left Ryan standing beside the toppled stoplight without a second
look. But… Bri shook her head. As much as a part of her wanted to blame him, this
had Avery and Drew written all over it. How many times had she seen their scheming
in the year she’d known them? “Let’s leave and forget any of it ever happened.”

“Leave? I don’t know about you, but I didn’t see any conveniently stashed snowmobiles,
or vehicles of any kind.”

Well, now that he pointed it out, she hadn’t either. There was only a tiny lean-to
visible through the back window with an equally tiny stack of firewood next to it.
Definitely no transportation hidden there. She ran her hands through her hair, nearly
knocking off her glasses. This cabin was nowhere near big enough for the both of them,
and she hadn’t missed the fact that there was only one bed.

It didn’t matter. If worst came to worst, he could curl up…on the massive rug in front
of the fireplace. Bri cringed at the sight of the white fur. God, she hoped that wasn’t
real, because having a bearskin rug in front of a fireplace was more at home in one
of her romance novels than the real world. And that thing was
huge
. The animal would have had to be hundreds upon hundreds of pounds, the spread of
fur more than enough space for even someone as large as Ryan to lie on.

As she rubbed her eyes, an image of his well-muscled shoulders against the white rug
planted itself in her brain.

Absolutely
not
. “Aren’t you a pararescuer? Getting people out of inhospitable conditions is part
of your job description. So get me out of here.” Anything was better than spending
three days closeted with him while her mind was offering up plenty of ways they could
pass the time—none of which had to do with talking.

“I don’t have any equipment and, between the snow and the cold, chances are one or
both of us would end up with hypothermia before we made it back to town. When you’re
that cold, your brain stops functioning, and it’s easy to get disoriented. We could
get lost.”

“We’re
stuck
here?” And the cabin seemed to be getting smaller with every breath she took.

“They said they’d be back Sunday. Hell, if the weather clears before then, we can
hike out.”

“
If
the weather clears before then? There’s no guarantee of that. It might not let up
for the entire weekend.” Sunday seemed an eternity away. “We’re trapped here. Together.”

“You and I work better in close quarters—the closer, the better. Maybe you should
think of it as a chance to finish what we started the night of Avery’s party, instead
of throwing a snit.”

It felt curiously like the earth had fallen away beneath her. “A snit?
A snit
? This is not
a snit.
This is a totally and completely rational response to being stranded here with a
man I
despise
. And I wouldn’t touch you if you were the last person on earth!” She was screaming
at him by the end of the sentence, but she didn’t care because he just stood there,
as solid as a rock against the waves of her anger.

“Right. Because you’ve been so successful keeping your hands to yourself up to this
point.”

“That was then. This is now. It’s different.”

“Whatever you have to tell yourself to sleep at night.”

She wished she had a chair at hand so she could bean him again.

…

Ryan took one look at her narrowed eyes and recognized this as an argument he wouldn’t
win. Since he was far too tempted to yank her into his arms and prove Bri had no problem
touching him whenever he got too close—which wouldn’t help the situation any—sticking
around wasn’t the best course of action. So he turned on his heel and started for
the door.

“Where are you going?”

He gritted his teeth and tried to remember why he’d wanted to spend more time with
this woman. “I’m going to go chop some firewood so you don’t freeze your prissy little
ass off tonight.”

Her outraged gasp was music to his ears—especially since this time
he
was shutting the door on
her
. Petty as hell, but there was no denying the satisfaction he got from the action.
This woman had come along and made judgments about his reasons for leaving town that
were so far off base part of him wanted to dig out his accomplishments and throw them
in her face to prove he wasn’t some worthless POS who ran away from his problems.
Even if he
had
run from Wellingford ten years ago, the world didn’t begin and end in the little town
in central Pennsylvania, no matter what she seemed to think.

The satisfaction at pissing her off faded as he trudged through the snow to the lean-to.
There was some wood already chopped but the pile wouldn’t last more than a day or
so. He reached for the first log and cursed. Another packet of condoms had been tucked
into the top of the stack. He couldn’t figure out what Drew and Avery thought was
going to happen in a lean-to in the middle of winter, but apparently they were optimistic.

He shook his head and got started. He needed the physical aspect of chopping wood
to get his mind off the woman in the cabin behind him. She got under his skin in record
time but, even annoyed as hell, he still wanted to shove her against the nearest wall
and have his way with her.

How they could connect so well physically but barely stand each other mentally was
a mystery to him. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to fight with her or fuck her until
they both forgot their issues.

Which made him the biggest idiot of all.

Chapter Seven

The words blurred before Bri’s eyes no matter how much she tried to concentrate. She
wished she could blame it on the fact that she was tired and hungry, but the source
of her problems was the man currently hauling firewood into the cabin to build a fire.

Though he was easily six feet from her, she could barely draw a full breath. Smothered.
That was the feeling putting pressure on her chest until her breasts ached with it.
It must be.

Ryan stacked the wood and then grabbed paper from the pile next to the fireplace and
stuffed it into the crack. “What the fuck?” Before she could ask him what the problem
was, he reached farther into the fireplace and came back with a string of condoms.
Her face flamed as he tossed them at her. “Someone thought we were going to be banging
in some really weird places. There was some out in the firewood, too.”

“Lovely.” She toed them under the couch, wishing her mind hadn’t jumped to the ways
they could utilize the newest batch of condoms—and the ones in the fruit basket.

He pulled out a lighter and lit the fire. Almost immediately, heat licked through
the room, warming her when she hadn’t even realized she was chilled in the first place.

Before she could thank him or ask what he planned on doing next or any of the other
words that sprang to her lips, he stood and moved to the kitchen. Maybe she should
just stay silent. No one ever got into trouble by keeping their mouth closed.

She dropped her gaze back to her book, but the story held no more appeal than it had
five minutes ago. With a sigh, she closed it in favor of looking around the room.
The cabin really was cozy, the large windows giving a gorgeous view of the surrounding
snow-covered trees that made her want to curl up with a flannel blanket and a cup
of tea.

Except she wouldn’t be doing any relaxing with Ryan’s presence saturating the cabin.

He dumped a can of something into a pan and then grabbed a box out of the cupboard.
As he started adding ingredients, she reluctantly climbed to her feet and went to
investigate.
There’s no other form of entertainment in this place. I might as well see what he’s
up to
. Her questionable logic firmly in place, she slipped onto the barstool across the
island from him.

Bri stared at her fingernails, the dark-pink paint she’d put on for her blind date
already starting to chip off. She wanted to make a smart comment, but nothing came
to mind except how good he looked in that fitted white thermal shirt. It clung to
his shoulders and biceps, highlighting them in a way that seemed designed to remind
her of how his muscles felt under her fingers. So she went with a generic, “What are
you doing?”

“You’re a smart girl. I’m sure you can figure it out.”

This was why she should have stayed on the couch. Every interaction they’d had fell
to extremes—they either ended up fighting or throwing themselves at each other.

Not that she needed those particular memories at this moment. Bri took a tie off her
wrist and pulled her hair up, mostly to give herself a moment before she went off
on him. The extra five seconds didn’t help her temper any, but at least she wasn’t
ready to throw something. “My friends are terrible people.”

Ryan glanced up from where he was dumping the mix into an eight-by-eight pan. “You’ve
known them for a year and you’re just now figuring it out?”

“They haven’t exactly made a habit of stranding me in deserted cabins with strange
men before now.”

“I hardly think I can be considered a ‘strange man’ since I’ve been inside you.”

She choked, air not quite making it to her lungs. “I can’t believe you just said that.”
Even worse was her reaction to his words. Her nipples pebbled, rubbing almost painfully
against her bra as she shifted, and her thighs clenched together, as if that would
do anything to ease the unnameable feeling centering between them.

As she’d found over the last week, the only way to ease
that
feeling was to utilize her buzzy friend. It hadn’t helped that he seemed to know
she’d been doing just that. He’d completely called her on it the day of Avery’s birthday
party. Of course she’d pictured
his
face above her and
his
hands on her—he was the first man she’d been with in years. Her being borderline-obsessed
with him was a perfectly natural response. She hoped. Because any experience she had
from here on out would be compared to how things had been with him, and like it or
not, he’d set a high bar.

Oh God, what if he really
did
ruin me?

Seeming oblivious to her mortification, he put the pan into the oven and then used
a wooden spoon to stir the pot. “It’s just sex. What’s the harm in talking about it?”

When he put it like that, he made her sound like a frightened virgin. They needed
to talk about something—anything—else. So she blurted out the first thing that came
to mind. “I’m worried about my fish.”

Ryan frowned, his mouth twisting as if he wasn’t sure if she was joking or not. “Your
fish?”

“Mr. Smith. What if he starves while I’m gone? I didn’t get a chance to feed him today.”

He rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand. “Bri, your fish isn’t going to starve.”

“How do you know that? I’ve never left him alone for this long.”
What if he gets lonely?
Sure, she’d put the mermaid statue in the tank with him, but a statue wasn’t going
to check in on him or read to him. She managed to keep that last bit inside. There
was no reason to give him more ammunition to make fun of her.

He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. “Fish are hardier than you give
them credit for. Drew and I had a goldfish when we were kids. That thing went six
years without being fed and it still managed to survive.”

“
Six years
?”

He shrugged. “We were kids. We left it bread crumbs when we remembered, but it wasn’t
a regular thing.”

She should have been horrified at the neglect he’d just admitted to, but instead,
she had to stifle a smile. “That’s terrible. That poor animal.”

“He had a good life. We took him on a few adventures, so he didn’t get bored.”

“How thoughtful.” They may not have remembered to feed it, but they made sure he wasn’t
wasting away from boredom? It was such a little-boy thing to be concerned about.

Bri shook her head. She wasn’t supposed to be thinking about Ryan being cute. “How
long will you be in town?”

“I fly out in ten days.”

So soon. She couldn’t say why the news sent a pang of regret through her since she’d
known all along Ryan wasn’t staying—and didn’t want him to, even if he changed his
mind about Wellingford. This wasn’t one of her romance novels, and Ryan wasn’t the
Prince Charming she’d always dreamed of. It just seemed strangely difficult to picture
her life going back to what it’d been before he barreled into it. But she couldn’t
afford to think like that right now—or ever. He was leaving.

End of story.

…

Ryan wasn’t sure what had brought about that lost look in her eyes, but he didn’t
like it. Not when they seemed to finally have found a topic that didn’t lead to them
fighting. Her damn betta fish, of all things. He’d buy her twenty more if it kept
that smile playing at the edges of her lips.

As soon as he’d told her he was flying out next week, her eyes had dimmed and she’d
picked a spot on the kitchen island to focus on. Even knowing he should leave well
enough alone, he couldn’t help asking, “You love this town, don’t you?”

She shifted her gaze to him and smiled, the expression so sweet, it hit him in the
chest with the force of a Mack truck. “I have a place here. It’s only been a little
while, but it already feels like it’s become home in a way I’ve never had before.”

He wished he could see Wellingford through her eyes, but the thought of being forced
into the role he’d grown up in, of seeing the pity in people’s eyes when his dad got
in another fight at the bar or was found passed out somewhere public, made the walls
feel like they were closing in. Having a place obviously mattered a lot to Bri, so
he choked back his issues and rounded the island to stand before her. “I’m glad you
like it.”

She frowned, as if trying to puzzle out his game. “What—”

He kissed her to chase away the lost look on her face, to add to the good memories
she seemed to so desperately crave, to give her something of the present to focus
on. At least that was the excuse he told himself. The truth was he’d been thinking
about kissing her nearly nonstop ever since he’d taken out that goddamn traffic light.

So much of Bri was held in reserve, as if she were shielding herself from something.
Her mass of gorgeous dark hair seemed to always be down, bangs a blunt edge that brushed
her black-framed cat-eye glasses. Her clothing was strategically loose, conveying
comfort without looking sloppy, but effectively hiding the body he wanted to memorize
with his hands and mouth.

And those lips—the same lips softening against his own right now—were the devil’s
own temptation, with their marked Cupid’s bow and full bottom lip that begged to be
nipped. Ryan gave in to the temptation to do just that, and she gasped, her hands
going to his shoulders as she swayed against him.

It was all the invitation he needed.

He sank his hands into her hair, angling their mouths so he could plunder hers. She
tasted of wintergreen, so fresh and clean that he groaned. While he was distracted
with relearning her lips and tongue, Bri started her own exploration, her hands drifting
from their perch on his shoulders to his chest. He wanted to strip off his shirt so
he could feel her fingers against his skin, but Ryan contented himself with stroking
his tongue against hers. They already walked such a fragile tightrope. He wasn’t going
to do anything to risk her doubts creeping in to put a stop to this.

But when she slipped her hands beneath his shirt, fingers brushing over his stomach,
a shiver worked its way through his body, all the way down his spine to his cock.

That level of reaction from a single near-innocent touch almost made him pull back.
What the hell was he getting himself into? Then she hooked the top of his jeans with
one hand while she palmed him with the other and he decided he didn’t care. He held
perfectly still as she stroked him, his muscles actually shaking from the need to
yank her against him and rip off their clothes.

Bri broke away, kissing along his jaw and down his neck. “You need to tell me what
cologne you use. I’m going to sue them.”

His laugh cut off when she unzipped his pants and took his cock in her hand. “
God
.”

She jerked back. “Did I hurt you?”

No, but she might if she stopped doing what she was doing. Ryan took her hand and
maneuvered it back to where she’d been. “I like it when you touch me.”

“And I like touching you.” She cupped him more firmly, sending pleasure sparking through
him.

He kissed her again, but this time he let himself return her touch, pushing up her
skirt until he could get to her skin beneath it. He moved his hand up her thigh and
pressed his palm against the thin barrier of fabric shielding her from him. She moaned
and any plan he had of taking this slow and teasing her disappeared in a puff of smoke.

With a groan, he slipped his hand into her panties and, finding her already wet, slid
a single finger into her. Her hand spasmed on his cock, and she began touching him
with renewed fervor. The way she explored him was the most exquisite torture he’d
ever experienced. Her fingers danced over his skin, thumb dragging up the underside
and then circling the head.

He wanted inside her. Wanted it so bad he could barely hang on to the reason why it
wasn’t a good idea.

Ryan dropped to his knees, already mourning the loss of her hands on him, but he wanted—needed—to
taste her again. From the way she eagerly lifted her hips so he could slide off her
panties, she wanted the same damn thing.

Seeing her spread out for him made a deeply hidden part of Ryan roar to the forefront
just like it had on the porch. He wanted to follow through on his threat to ruin her
for other men, so that no one could even come close to making her feel how she felt
with him. Only him. He wasn’t proud of the possessive feeling coursing through him,
but he wasn’t going to deny it. He wasn’t going to deny a damn thing when it came
to Bri.

He dragged his tongue over her, savoring her taste just like he savored the feeling
of her nails dragging over the back of his head, urging him on. Already, she rocked
against his mouth, whimpers turning into his name chanted over and over again.

This was perfection. They didn’t need to talk. All they needed was the language created
between two bodies. He sucked her clit into his mouth, using his lips and tongue to
drive her crazy, until she went rigid and screamed his name.
Fuck
. A man could get used to giving a woman that kind of orgasm. He licked his lips and
lifted his head to tell her just that.

Then the goddamn smoke detector went off.