I’m pretty sure I need CPR or some kind of life-saving equipment.

I can’t seem to catch my breath, even though I’m breathing just fine, but the way he just kissed me and then walked away has my mind reeling and my body confused as hell.

His lips were so warm and inviting, I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to pull away, and that’s even more confusing to me than I like admitting. However, I can’t deny the way his kiss affected me. The way his body pressed against mine or how my body responded like I was some desperate sex-deprived woman.

I’m not, by the way. Stupid, traitorous body.

I’m still trying to catch my breath when I leave and walk out the back door. Quickly glancing around to make sure Henry isn’t following me again, I walk the garden path and head inside the cottage.

I don’t have time to think about Ethan and that kiss, I remind myself.

I don’t have time to analyze the way that kiss made me feel, I also remind myself.

But fuck. It was a really good kiss.

But why did he kiss me? And why did I kiss him back?

Ugh! How dare he kiss me like that!

My mind is all over the place, and I can’t keep up with my own thoughts. His proposal repeats in my head. I’m trying to forget his offer while talking myself into considering it. Contradiction plagues me. Would it really be so bad to have one night of fun while I’m here?

What am I even saying?

I palm my forehead, trying to smack the oxygen back into my brain.

This man is making me second-guess everything I believe, and it’s driving me absolutely crazy! I write about heroines who have one-night stands or who fuck a guy after just meeting them, but that isn’t real life. At least not for me. I’ve seen firsthand what jumping into a relationship based on sex can do to a couple, and it isn’t pretty.

Deciding to march back over there, I don’t bother knocking before letting myself in. I stomp my way upstairs even though I have no idea where he went, but I’m not thinking straight anymore. My heart is racing, and I’m determined to give him a piece of my mind. Who does he think he is kissing me like that?

There are two doors on each side of the hallway, and one is cracked halfway open, so I decide to try that one first.

“Ethan!” I shout. My bare feet thump against the hardwood floor as I try to find him. I peek around the barely open door, which ends up being the bathroom. “Ethan, where are you?” I raise my voice louder, not sure if I should try the other doors or not.

I step farther down the hallway and hear bass thumping along the ceiling. He must be in the tower.

Rounding the corner, I spot the stairs that lead up to the third floor. The music becomes louder as I quietly take the steps. When I reach the top, I see his bare muscular back hunched over slightly as his hands work a chunk of clay on his pottery wheel. It’s loud and vibrates the floors, which is probably why his music is as loud as it is.

Wooden boards surround the room with clay mugs and bowls. Large white buckets are scattered around the room with glaze written on them, and it looks like a great working space. So peaceful and probably has a gorgeous view in the early mornings.

I watch him for a while, admiring the way his muscles contract in his biceps as he shifts in his seat between wetting the sponge and molding the clay between his fingers. I’ve never seen anyone make pottery before, but he makes it seem effortless. Actually, really fucking sexy. Studying him, I don’t realize how long it’s been, and when he shifts his body and glances at me, his face contorts. I expect him to scold me for watching when he didn’t know, but instead, he scoots back on the seat and tilts his head.

“Come sit,” he orders.

At first, I think I hear him wrong, the music must’ve jumbled his words, but when he jerks his head again, I know I didn’t.

Licking my lips, I take a step and walk toward him. He sits back just enough to allow me to sit in front of him, basically in his lap, but I don’t complain.

His arms wrap around mine, and he guides my hands to the clay in the middle of his wheel. Pressing his foot on the pedal, the wheel begins to spin again. His hands cover mine as we shape the clay, and he uses his finger to guide my thumb into the middle where a hole starts to form.

“I hope I don’t mess up your piece,” I turn my head slightly and tell him loud enough, so he can hear me.

His body maneuvers closer to mine, his chest against my back leaving no space between us. My body shivers at the close contact and how he’s holding me in place with his thighs and shoulders.

“You probably will,” he whispers, and even though his tone is serious, I feel his lips spread into a smirk against the shell of my ear.

I chuckle, leaning my body against his for support, not wanting to admit how good it feels to have him so close to me. I came up here to yell at him, and now his bare chest has captured my body, and unwillingly—my heart. He slowly removes his hands and slides them up my arms before reaching for his sponge. After wetting it, he squeezes it over my hands and clay.

Feeling his lips press softly against my neck, my eyes flutter as I lose focus. The scruff from his beard tickles my skin, and I feel myself unraveling. His hands slowly slide up my arms, leaving streaks of dirty clay water along them. My throat goes dry as his hand firmly wraps around my neck and tilts my face toward his. Warm lips capture my mouth, and I easily fall into his embrace. His tongue glides with mine, and soon the wheel is no longer spinning as my hands wrap around his wrists for support in a silent plea to not stop anytime soon.

His thumb rubs along my jawline as our kiss deepens, and as much as I don’t want to, I know I should stop. Except I can’t. His kiss is so fucking good, so controlled, yet desperate and eager. The way he holds me to him, the strength of his arms and body have me so entranced, I can’t do anything except fall into his embrace.

“I’ve finally figured out what shuts you up,” he teases against my mouth, a smirk playing on his lips. “Turns out it was keeping your tongue busy.”

“If that’s your version of sexy talk, I’m not impressed,” I mock, barely audible.

“Your nipples say otherwise.” He lowers his hand and plucks my taut nipple along the fabric of my shirt. “Hard and aroused. And I know it’s not because of the weather.”

“I really want to prove you wrong, but I know the farther your hand goes, the more right you’ll be.” The words bravely come out before I can stop them.

Leaning in, he bites down on my lower lip, causing a surge of electricity to spark through me. The last guy I briefly dated never made me feel this way, and Ethan has barely touched me.

A moan escapes my throat, and I feel him smile against my lips. Fuck. Now he definitely knows he’s affecting me—not that I could really deny it anymore.

Keeping my face over my shoulder, he continues exploring my mouth as his hands pin my back to his chest. Even though the position is awkward, I don’t make an effort to move. I love the way he’s possessively holding me, my ass pressed between his thighs and rubbing against his cock.

Several moments pass of his lips and teeth teasing me before he presses his forehead to mine as we both try and catch our breaths. His hands roam my arms, neck, and face, and I now look like a living piece of art.

“We should clean up,” he suggests, though not making an effort to move.

“That’s probably a good idea,” I agree, half-winded.

He backs off the stool and stretches his hand out for me to grab it. I place it in his, and he leads me downstairs. Following behind, I notice when he walks past the bathroom.

“I thought we were going to clean up,” I say stupidly, assuming he was going to take us to the shower. I’ve let my guard down but am second-guessing myself now.

“We are,” is all he says, leading me down the next set of stairs until we’re on the main floor.

I can’t deny how his mysterious tone sends butterflies straight to my stomach. I hardly know anything about this man, yet that doesn’t stop me from following him.

We stay silent as we walk hand in hand to the front door and step out onto the wraparound porch. He continues leading me down the steps and onto the sidewalk, still giving me no indication of what he’s up to.

Only walking a couple blocks, I finally see where he’s taking me.

“What are we doing?” I ask, staring out at the creek.

He releases my hand and faces me. He smirks as he starts unbuttoning his jeans. “Cleaning up.” He nods his head at me and continues, “Strip.”

“Excuse me, what?” I gasp, taking a step back and thinking he must be crazy. “Out here?” Granted we’re in an isolated area, surrounded by trees and water, but that doesn’t mean other people couldn’t be out here as well.

“C’mon, city girl. Afraid to get dirty in the country?” He arches a brow, challenging me.

I know he’s mocking me, considering we’re already both dirty, but by the way he’s looking at me, I know he means it in an entirely different way.

I’m gettin’ dirty in the south with Ethan Rochester.

“I see more of that southern charm is coming out,” I tease, deciding to call his bluff and pull off my shirt. There’s no way he’s going to strip down to nothing.

“Down here we call it skinny dipping.” He winks, kicking off his shoes before sliding his jeans down to his ankles and taking them off too.

“No,” I say firmly, taking a step back. “I’m not going in there naked. With you.”

“Why not? Afraid you’ll actually have fun?”

I suck in a deep breath, my eyes gazing down his body—his beautiful, hard body. He’s everything I write about in my books. Undeniably hot. Cocky attitude. Abs of steel that could cut my teeth. Hair shaggy on one side that makes me want to run my fingers through it as I straddle him. Mesmerizing eyes and lips that take over my senses every time I close my eyes. He’s your typical bad boy hero, down to the ear piercings and rough scruff along his jawline that has me fantasizing how he’d feel between my legs.

Shit.

I’ve spent the last few years pushing men like him away, knowing they were bad news, yet here I’m standing in front of Mr. Bad News himself and not running away.

“Fine,” I bite out. Two can play this game.

I unbutton my shorts and slide them down to my ankles before kicking them into the pile in front of us. Standing in only my bra and panties, I feel him studying me. His eyes slowly trace over my chest and move down my stomach and legs. When his eyes slide back up to mine, there’s a knowing smirk taking place of his serious one.

His fingers wrap around the waistband of his boxer shorts, and I inhale deeply as he slowly peels them off. I tell myself to look away, but I can’t. His eyes pin me to him, daring me to look away. Bending down, he pulls the shorts all the way to his ankles before standing back up and showing me the whole package.

Sweet fucking hell.

His ear isn’t the only thing that’s pierced.

Blinking, I swallow and try to act as if I am keeping it together. His cock should be packaged with a red ribbon tied around it because the way it hangs between his legs is like a gift to all women. Not to mention, I’m shamelessly curious how a piercing would feel inside me.

I want to make some kind of joke about it being cold outside and insinuate I’m not impressed by his size, but I’m fairly certain my voice would crack and completely blow my cover. My throat is so dry, I’m not sure I could form coherent words even if I tried.

His cock is thick. Thicker than I’ve ever seen and without staring at it too long, I shift my eyes away. I hear him chuckle as if my reaction to his naked body is funny.

“What?” I snap my eyes back to his, although I can see his cock in my peripheral vision. It’s there all thick and big, and it might as well have a huge neon sign on it that says Look at me! I’m your wet fantasy!

“You act like you’ve never seen a naked man before.”

I glare at him, making sure to keep my eyes above his waist.

“Wait. You have, right?” he asks, stepping closer.

“I’m twenty-seven years old. I’ve seen a naked man before,” I snap.

“Then why are you acting like I have a poisonous snake between my legs?”

“Snake,” I repeat with a laugh. “Sounds appropriate,” I mutter to myself, though I’m sure he heard me.

“You want to feel it?” he asks, palming his fingers around it as he takes another step closer.

“What?” I gasp, blinking my eyes back to his and making sure I heard him correctly.

“The creek,” he clarifies, but I know his purpose was to shock me. “It’s like bath water.”

“Oh.” I swallow again, wishing my throat would stop feeling so damn dry. This guy has turned me into an idiot.

“Are you going to go in like that?” He jerks his head down to my bra and panties.

Looking at him, I try and find the courage to follow suit. I’ve already had to give myself permission to have fun this week, but I’m not sure this is a good idea. In fact, I know it’s not a good idea. A guy like him could ruin me, and that’s something I’ve promised myself since I was a teenager that I’d never let happen since watching my father verbally and emotionally abuse my mother for years.

You’re a worthless piece of shit, and maybe if you ever took that stick out of your ass, you’d actually be a joy to be around. My father’s words repeat in my head for the hundredth time since he’s said them to my mother years ago. I hate how I allow his words to get to me even after all this time. I force them away when they surface, but I don’t know why they’ve surfaced now.

I push his ugly words away and wrap my arms behind my back, so I can unhook my bra. Ethan watches me, and when my bra slides down my arms, he arches a brow.

“What?”

He rubs along his scruffy jawline, a noticeable smile charming his lips. “Keep going,” he tells me, having no shame as he stares intently at my breasts.

I hook my fingers in my panties then slide them down my legs before adding them to our clothes pile. Thank God I waxed before this trip, which was mostly because I had a gift certificate to use at the salon before it expired. A birthday present from Nora who gets on me for my lack of self-care since I’ve starting writing full-time.

“No carpet, huh? Interesting.”

I roll my eyes, shaking my head and pinching my lips together, so he doesn’t see me smiling. He’s totally eye-fucking my body, and it feels good knowing someone appreciates it.

“Only during the winter months when we Midwesterners need to stay warm,” I tease as he grabs my hand and walks us down to the water.

“Remind me to never visit during cold season.”

“Oh my God,” I say, bursting into laughter as the water hits my ankles. “Wow…it is warm.”

“I told you.” He turns and winks, pulling us deeper into the water until it’s up to my breasts.

“I guess you did.” I roll my eyes. “At least the view was worth it.”

“I’d have to agree with you on that one actually.” He pulls me close until our chests are pressed together.

“I meant the sunset,” I correct him with fake annoyance in my tone. “You’re so egotistical.” I shake my head.

“So did I,” he corrects with a knowing grin. He’s such a fucking liar. “Now who’s egotistical?”

“I’d believe you if you weren’t staring so hard at my chest.”

“Well, you have nice tits. They’re distracting.”

“My tits are distracting?” I ask with laughter. “You want to touch them?”

His eyebrows shoot up, probably wondering if it’s a trick or not. When I don’t waver, he licks his lips and clears his throat.

“What happened to you not being desperate enough to sleep with a man like me?”

Pinching my lips together, I try to think of the perfect comeback, but nothing clever comes to mind. Probably because every time I glance at him, his gorgeous pierced cock invades my brain.

So my tits are distracting to him, and his cock has me thinking all kinds of bad and inappropriate thoughts.

The irony isn’t lost on me.

“I decided to throw out all my standards,” I finally answer. It’s not a complete lie, but it’s not the whole truth either. I’d be a fool to not want to sleep with a man like him. He can probably do things to me I’ve only ever written about or dreamed about, and even then, I don’t always write those scenes based on experience. Sometimes it’s based on fantasy, pure imagination, or porn.

“Are you saying I don’t meet your standards?” he asks, offended.

“Quite the opposite, actually. I didn’t mean physical standards, I meant emotionally. I came back over to yell at you for kissing me and then when you kissed me again, I don’t know…I didn’t want to use the energy to fight it any longer.”

Keeping his eyes focused on mine, he brushes his finger along my jawline and to my cheek before moving strands of hair behind my ear. My long hair sticks to my shoulders and back, but that doesn’t stop his urge to touch me. Keeping his hand cupped along my jaw, he pulls me forward until our lips connect. My hands wrap around his waist and hold onto him as if I’ll drown without his support.

It’d be worth it, though.