I knew that I’d be chopping most of the wood, with Dad’s bad back and all, but I hadn’t anticipated how sweaty I’d get. Thank fuck for hot showers. As soon as I stopped moving, the sweat had frozen against my skin. The steamy hot shower is just what I need to thaw out my frigid body. Once I’m clean and warm, I turn the shower head off and open the curtain, brushing my thick mop of hair back off my forehead.

“Ah, fuck,” I say under my breath. I forgot a towel. I’ll have to walk out into the cold living room and over to the linen closet now, freezing my ass off all over again in the process. So much for the warming effects of the shower.

When I open the bathroom door, the steam billows out in thick white swirls. The cold hits my damp skin and sends shivers straight through me. I jog down the hall towards the linen closet, exhaling loudly as I try to ignore the freezing cold air.

I swing the linen door open and bend down to find a towel.

That’s when I hear it.

Rustling.

Rummaging.

Movement.

Someone is here.

I grab the first towel I see and wrap it around my waist. Then, I lean back and peer around the open closet door. My eyes widen when I see the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen standing near the kitchen sink.

Who. Is. That.

She’s got long brown hair—it’s almost black. It frames her face and gives her an ethereal look. Her dark, almond-shaped eyes are wide as she stares directly at me.

“I didn’t see anything,” she stammers, and I know that she did, in fact, see something. A blush stains her cheeks as her eyes drop down to my chest, and then she looks away.

“I’m just here for the first aid kit.”

“Is someone injured?”

“Yes. I mean, no.” She looks at the floor, and then the couch, and finally turns towards the sink. “I got a splinter.”

Who is she? What is she doing here? One of my mother’s friends, perhaps? She seems too young for that. A friend’s daughter? I take a few steps towards her and let my eyes drift down her perfect figure. She’s wearing a thin sweater and skin-tight jeans, and damn, she looks good. I walk towards her and she pointedly avoids looking in my direction.

“A splinter?”

She glances at me, then at my chest, then at my towel, and finally takes a deep breath. She nods.

“Well why’d you go and do that?”

Her eyes glimmer. “I could almost say it’s your fault. You chopped the wood, did you not?”

“I did,” I grin. I lean against the counter as I watch her fumble with the latches on the first aid kit. She inhales sharply, pulling her hand away and looking at her palm. I take another step towards her and take her hand gently in mine.

“Here,” I say. “Let me help.”

I ignore the ripple of electricity that passes through my arm when my skin touches hers. Did she feel it too?

She bites her lip and my cock throbs. She is hot. Her hand is small and delicate, and my palms feel rough against her soft skin. She’s staring at me with those big, dark eyes of hers, and I’m loving the way they keep drifting down to my body. I see her gaze drop to my arms and I automatically flex my muscles.

She takes a deep breath and pulls her hand away.

“It’s nothing.” She shakes her head.

“It’s about an inch long,” I say. “It must hurt like a motherfucker.”

She laughs, then, and her whole face lights up. She bites her lip, as if she’s embarrassed to be laughing, and finally nods.

“It does hurt like a motherfucker,” she laughs. “You’re right.”

Hearing such a pretty woman say something like that sends a thrill through my body. I wonder what she’d sound like if she were saying dirty, dirty things in my ear.

I shake my head, turning towards the first aid kit. I flip it open and find the tweezers.

“You can… shouldn’t you get dressed? You’re still wet. Aren’t you cold?”

I look down at my body. It’s covered in goosebumps, and I realize that yes, I am cold. But I don’t want to let this woman out of my sight for a second, so I just shrug.

“I’m fine.” I find the tweezers and hold out my hand. When she places her hand in my palm, another thrill passes through me. She’s staring at my chest again, and she’s blushing. Why is that turning me on so much?

I shake my head and turn to her splinter. “Here, come closer,” I say, flicking on a light switch above the stove. She takes a step towards me, and I can smell the sweet perfume she’s wearing. My whole body feels like it’s pulled taut.

I bring her palm closer to the light, ignoring the heat that’s pooling at the base of my spine. My cock is rock hard, and suddenly I wish I was wearing more than just a towel. She makes a noise when I nudge the end of the splinter.

“Sorry,” I say, glancing up at her.

She shakes her head. “It’s fine. I’m a wuss.”

“You’re not a wuss,” I chuckle. “This thing would have me in tears. You ready?”

“Get that fucker out of me,” she grins. “Come on. Do it.”

God, that’s hot. I grin, loving the way her eyes are sparkling. She takes a deep breath and squeezes her eyes shut, and I turn to her palm. I grab the end of the splinter with the tweezers and pull it out in one smooth motion. She groans as it comes out, and then exhales. She pulls her hand away to cradle it against her chest. Her eyes are watering and she’s shaking her head.

“That was sore.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“That’s not what you said when you first walked in.”

She grins. “Well, you’ve redeemed yourself. Thank you for helping me.”

Her eyes linger on mine, and then on my lips. Her cheeks flush again, and I try to ignore the steel rod between my legs. I clear my throat.

“Here,” I say, pulling out some alcohol and gauze. “We should clean it.”

Neither of us says anything as I clean the small wound. She inhales sharply as the alcohol touches her skin, leaning towards me. I run the cotton ball softly over her injury as I cradle her palm in mine. Then, I take some gauze and tape and I cover the splinter wound.

“There,” I say, keeping her hand in mine. “All better.”

She’s blushing again, and I’m trying to ignore the throbbing between my legs. She smiles. We stare at each other for a few moments. I’m still holding her hand, and I don’t want to let it go.

“You want me to kiss it better?”

“You asking for a slap across the face?” She laughs.

Her eyes flick down to my lips and a sizzle of heat runs down my spine.

She points to my chest. “What happened here?” Her fingers just brush against my damp skin before she pulls them away. She drops her other hand from mine. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” I say, wishing she was still touching me. Her fingers ran the length of the long, jagged scar that cuts across the left side of my chest from collarbone to sternum. “Happened when I was a kid. My brother and I were horsing around. It was an accident.” Or at least that’s what I always say. Her eyes widen and her mouth drops, as if she’s remembering something.

She shakes her head.

“I’m sorry, I never introduced myself. You’re Jesse, right? I’m Farrah. I’m Elijah’s girlfr—fiancée.”

Oh. Fuck.

“Ah, of course! I thought you were a bit young to be a friend of my mom’s.” I try my best to cover my disappointment with a grin. I run my fingers through my wet hair. “It’s nice to finally meet you. We seem to keep missing each other at family events.”

“Yeah,” she smiles. She shakes her head and mimicking my movement by tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. The movement makes her sweater stretch over her chest, and my whole body throbs.

Congratu-fucking-lations little brother.

“I should probably...” She points her thumb over her shoulder.

“Yeah, I gotta…” I gesture to my body. I’m still only wearing a towel, with freezing-cold drops of water covering my torso. Farrah laughs, her cheeks reddening again. She flicks those enchanting eyes up towards mine again.

“See you in there.”

“I hope so,” I say without thinking. Her eyes widen and her blush deepens. A smile twitches at her lips and then she turns towards the door. I watch her walk out, and then head to the window to see her jog across the yard towards the house. When she disappears through the patio doors, I let out a huge sigh.

Well, fuck. The first woman I’ve been attracted to in months also happens to be my brother’s new fiancée.