The Path to James (5 page)

I step back as he steps forward. My heart is pounding, I don't know this man. I look him up and down apprehensively. You know, Ted Bundy was rumored to be such a nice guy.

Sensing my apprehension this stranger stops and leans with his arm outstretched. He is still a good four feet away, and I'm forced to close the distance between us to accept his amicable handshake. My free hand keeps a firm hold on my mace. I don't care how affable this guy appears, from what I've heard, John Wayne Gacy was thought of as quite the gentleman.

When our hands meet, I can feel his firm hold lower inside me. I find myself biting my lower lip again. Between my legs is just warmth and tingling. My stomach flutters.
What is wrong with me!

His eyes have brightened, from a distance I thought they were entirely brown, but up close I can see flecks of green. “Will you have breakfast with me?” His lips quirk into a smile and his teeth are straight, white and perfect.

He keeps hold of my hand longer than the span of a customary handshake. His long fingers wrap around my skin in a firm grip. It's okay though, I don't really want him to let me go.

Thinking about the time, I pull my phone out of my pocket.
Crap
, I forgot it was dead. I flash this stranger the lifeless screen, as if that explains why I just rolled my eyes at myself. I look up, tracking the sun's position. He finally lets my hand go. My skin feels oddly bereft without his touch.

“I don't know the exact time, but it's way past breakfast,” I'm deflecting.

His grin broadens, “Lunch with me, then. And I have an outlet with your name on it,” he gestures to my phone.

“You're inviting me to eat when you don't even know my name?” Now it's my turn to sound chastising.

This stranger arches a brow, “Are you always this difficult?”

“I don't know what you mean,” my eyes gleam. I reach to take his hand once more, it's an excuse to touch him again, but it doesn't feel awkward through introductions. “Alex Henton.”

“
Alex,
”
he breathes my name, and my pelvis tenses. “I'm James,” I note the absence of his last name, and I feel immediately shortchanged.

“Lunch then, Miss Henton?” The 'miss' is as much in question as the meal. I flush when I notice he is holding his breath in anticipation. I'm suddenly more aware of my own scent, of my sweat and grime coated body, of my unwashed clothes and skin.

“Can—” I shift uncomfortably. I am not entirely certain why I'm asking this, “can I use your washing machine?”
There. I said it, can't take it back now.

James cocks his head, assessing me.

I pinch the form-fitting fabric of my tank-top, peeling it away from my skin. “You have no idea. You don't want me in close proximity in this condition.”

“Debatable.”

“What?” I had to have misunderstood him.

“I would be perfectly happy to wash your clothes for you,” he doesn't repeat himself. For a moment I think I see his eyes heat. “I also have a shower, but I wouldn't want to sound too forward.”

Oh, this just got worse. I'm biting my lip again. Fine, I'll get to the real reason I am hindered in making a decision, “You swear you won't...ax-murder me?”

James' mouth falls open a second, he is actually stunned. He falters. I stunned him, I beam. I can't help but feel proud of myself.

“I swear,” he manages after a moment, “no murdering of any kind.” He gives me a peculiar look.

I've never felt so attracted to someone, I can't stop staring. Even when I didn't know Jaren was a psychopath, I'd never felt this kind of desire before. I eye James a moment longer. He is handsome, so what the hell? “Lunch, then.”

His grin returns, and my heart melts. He doesn't seem like a crazy person, but I've been fooled before. As he leads me inside, just as a precaution, I keep a firm hold on my bear mace while I have my mind trained on my Taser.

Chapter 8

“
Towels are in the linen closet,” I tell Alex as she shuffles timidly through my home. I point to the closet as we go by. She reminds me of a frightened animal, all wide-eyed and twitchy. I don't think she's listening to me. “Here is the bathroom, leave your clothes outside the door and I'll get them washed for you.”

Alex's eyes scan everything but me. She looks as though she is waiting for a trap to spring.

Do I really appear that menacing?

“Are you okay?” I ask. I wish I knew how to put her at ease. I want to reach out and take Alex's hand again, but I don't want to make things any worse.

“I'm fine, sorry.” She flushes, pulling a lock of hair behind one ear. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

“Thank you for your company,” I sound like an idiot. I squeeze my eyes shut. “I am going to change into something more presentable. Make yourself at home,” I continue down the hall refusing to turn back to stare at my guest.

There is an audible click of the bathroom door behind me, and I sigh in relief at the sound. The way she was acting I thought she was going to dart off. When I first saw her, I don't know what came over me. She was just...perfect. Tan and lean, a sheen of sweat glinting off of her skin. She was the most beautiful creature I'd ever seen. If I hadn't gone to work outside today, if I had gone in for breakfast when I had originally planned, if I hadn't fully charged my laptop last night, I could have missed her. She could be gone and I would never know what I had been missing.

I can hear the shower switch on from the bathroom. I grab boxer-briefs from my top drawer, followed by jeans and a t-shirt.

Alex's full lips come to mind as I loosen the drawstring around my waist. The curves of her body and the way she looked when she blushed. Her mannerisms and her sense of humor. I step out of my current outfit and go for my boxer-briefs. Even her voice was soft and sweet, it made me think first of her tongue—then lower.

I can't help the oncoming erection as I think about the woman down the hall. I lift my leg to step into my boxers when there is a knock at the door.

“Sorry, where did you say the towels—” Alex pushes into the room without a response from me. And here I am, fully nude with a mostly hard cock hanging out. “Jesus! I'm SORRY!” She slams the door closed and I scramble after her.

I'm terrified she'll bolt. I'm still naked, my underwear in one hand, as I chase after her. “Wait!” I call for her. “Alex!”

She turns around at the sound of my voice, then her face heats to about a thousand degrees.
Shit!
She averts her eyes. Now that she has stopped, I can at least put some underwear on.

“Alex,” I slip one leg into my boxer-briefs, then the other. They're black and tight. They hold my cock snug against me, and I hope this makes my erection a little less threatening. “I'm sorry, I didn't know you would be coming in.”

She looks at me now that I'm partially dressed, but she's still flushing. “No, I shouldn't have barged in like that,” she is biting her lip again. “I just couldn't find the towels.”

I sigh in relief. She must still be planning to stay if she's asking about towels. “Let me grab them,” I give her a half-smile as I step past her, she presses against the opposite wall to avoid contact with me. She is so skittish, if anyone should be embarrassed it should be me.

I grab two large towels from the closet and bring them back to deposit them in her arms. “What would you like for lunch?” Her eyes are beautiful. Albeit wide and frightened, but beautiful.

Alex shrugs and I can't help staring at her bare shoulders. I wonder how she tastes and I fight the urge to kiss along the exposed skin.

“I'm vegetarian, but whatever you have would be great.” She smiles, and I want to press my lips against hers. “Thank you. I'm sorry about…that.”

“Don't mention it, unless you'd like to compliment something,” I run a hand through my hair.
Why did I just say that? Oh, I am an idiot!

Alex flushes crimson again. “Something tells me you need no commendations in that department.” She clutches the towels closer to shield herself from me. But I'm warmed by her obvious praise.

I clear my throat. “Right,” I'm sure I look a bit awkward. “I'll let you shower.”

“Yes,” she points toward the restroom, as if telegraphing her movements. “Thanks, I'll be right out,” She smiles and retreats to the safety of the bathroom. I want to follow after her, but I know better.

Her eyes linger on mine as the door drifts closed. I stare, locked in her gaze until the sight of her is lost.

Chapter 9

I will not touch myself in this man's home. I will not touch myself in this man's giant mansion of a home.
I keep chanting these words as my skin is pelted with cold water. I had to cool off. After barging into his bedroom with him fully nude, his penis mostly erect. Another wave of arousal hits me.

I need to get a grip.

My blood was humming as he placed his hand on the small of my back and he'd led me into his home, onto his expansive deck and in through one of the sets of French doors. I knew I was in trouble. Or he was, really. If he hadn't stopped touching me he would have been in great danger of me jumping his bones. He walked me in and his home was warm and comforting. Huge, but welcoming. The walls were a soft cream and the floors made of recycled barn wood. The second floor balcony showed off rows of books and the rooms upstairs. Natural light filled the home through the giant floor-to-ceiling windows.

I can't believe I'm doing this. I've never bathed in a stranger's home before—seen them naked within five minutes of meeting them. I'm not that type of girl.

I shut off the cold water and step out of the shower. I'm almost tempted to sneak out of the window instead of having to face James again. I just have to get through lunch, but really I didn't know if I possessed that much self control.

My mind goes to when I'd opened his bedroom door, seeing him standing there, naked and gorgeous. His muscles rippling as he looked up at me, stunned. What would have happened if I had come into the room instead of running away? If I'd pressed myself against him and locked onto his lips, or, better yet, fell to my knees to sample a taste of him.

I glance in the fogged mirror, shocked by my own brazen thoughts. My nipples are hard and my face is flushed.
Where is Maurice when I need him?

When I step out of the bathroom fully clothed, the smell in the air shifts from soapy sexual tension to orgasmic deliciousness wafting from the kitchen. I don't have anything aside from hiking clothes, but I'd chosen my most attractive outfit. My pack is strung onto one shoulder and one hand holds firmly onto the bear mace. You can never be too careful.

What is my handsome stranger up to?

I wander down the hall to find James in his kitchen. He's sauteing vegetables in a wok while quinoa finishes in a separate pot. A bottle of wine is open with two glasses next to it on the kitchen island. The sight of this man standing there, cooking for me, it's about the sexiest thing I've ever seen. Hell, it's the sexiest thing I've ever imagined.

The thought of him naked and hard comes to the front of my mind and I realize I'm mistaken.
Geez,
Jaren had never driven me this crazy. Even when I'd first met my ex—when I didn't know he was an asshole. Looking at James I feel like a wayward teenager
.

James catches my admiring stare when he turns to get himself some wine. I'm biting my lip and thinking of how it would feel to wrap my arms around him from behind, undo his pants and slip my hand inside, taking charge for a change. When his eyes meet mine I'm rattled from my fantasy and fight to look natural, like a chaste girl who isn't enraptured by the dream of this man's body sliding naked against hers.

“Lunch is almost ready,” he grins, as if he knows what I am thinking. He is fully dressed now in jeans and a T-shirt, his feet are bare. His hair is wet and I realize he must have showered too. I sense the lost opportunity, it’s a shame he hadn't just joined me in my bathroom.

“Thanks for cooking,” I take a seat at one of the bar stools in front of the island. I drop my pack on the ground. “You didn't have to do that.”

You hardly know me
, is what I wanted to add, but I keep the comment to myself.

James slides a glass of wine to me and grabs his own. “I'll admit you threw me for a loop with the vegetarian thing, but I figured something out.” He takes a sip and I'm entranced by the movement of his lips and the bob of his Adam's apple.

He turns to plate our food and I'm mesmerized by the grace of his body. His whole body. He ladles the quinoa onto two plates then spills the teriyaki vegetables on top. He adjusts some unruly snow peas that threaten to fall from a plate then sucks the juice from the end of his finger.

I have never been jealous of an appendage before. I wanted that mouth on me, or that finger on me. In me. I swallow hard. I wanted him sucking my juices from his fingers.

James deposits one of the plates in front of me. “I hope you like it,” and my face flares. I know I'd love it.