I try not to groan as I think about jerking off in the shower, knowing Kylie had watched. Did she think I wouldn’t know—that her very presence could go unnoticed by me? Hell, all I had to do was envision her, and my entire body lit up like Fourth of July fireworks.

I clench my teeth and spear the fork into one of the steaks I’m grilling on the stove. After Kylie cursed at me while she marched down the hallway to grab a towel, she settled into the love seat and fell asleep with the dogs. A couple hours later, I decided to start making dinner to distract myself from the image of her ass swaying back and forth as she opted from putting my shirt back on after her bath. I knew it’d piss her off, which is why I did it in the first place, but then she got me right back by walking naked right in front of me.

The way her tits bounced as she shimmied back to her room, the water still dripping down her back and ass, her lean legs teasing every inch of my dick as she cocked a hip and glared at me—fuck. I’m so fucked.

No amount of cooking is going to get those images out of my head. Especially when I roamed my eyes in between her legs and saw her bare, sweet pussy.

I’m so goddamn doomed.

The moment she came into the living room with the towel wrapped around her hair instead of her body, I snapped. Grabbing one of my old, baggy sweatshirts, I threw it at her and demanded she cover herself. She knew exactly what she was doing—taunting and torturing me—and it was working, too.

The storm has picked up again, shards of ice slamming against the glass as the wind whips around the cabin. Glancing over my shoulder, I see Kylie is still curled up in a chair with one of my books in her lap and notice both dogs are passed out in front of the fireplace. In this moment, where everything is quiet and still, and fucking Kozmo isn’t running around my place like he’s on speed, it feels pretty damn perfect—even if it’s only temporary.

Facing the stove again, I take the slabs of meat off the heat, letting it marinate in the sauce for a few minutes before cutting into it. I haven’t cooked for anyone in years, but I can’t stay I hate it.

Having Kylie in my home, invading my space, and testing my willpower has been a challenging forty-eight hours. I’ve jerked off four times in the last couple of days, and it was all because of Kylie. I don’t know what it is about this woman—she aggravates and turns me on all in the same breath.

Desire is something of a foreign experience to me; hell, it’s been years if I’m being truthful. But I’ve been focused on working and building my client list all this time, staying stocked up for winters, and keeping myself busy with my cabin. I’ve like it this way—the isolation and solitude.

“I meant to ask.” Kylie’s voice comes from behind me and my entire body strings tight.

I curl my fingers around the fork, telling myself to get fucking control. Turning around and facing her, I have to look down at her in order to stare into her eyes. She’s so much smaller than me. Her hair is a wild mess, the long waves making my fingers itch to reach out and pull her head back, slam my mouth on hers, and fuck her that way.

God, this woman drives me fucking crazy.

She’s stubborn and gets under my skin, and I am pretty damn sure she enjoys that fact. I look at her and see something more—gazing into her big blue eyes, I can see a future.

I don’t need any of that, but I find myself wanting it—with Kylie.

Fuck. This woman has me in knots.

“You meant to ask what?” I finally respond, my voice thick and husky. I’m hoping she doesn't see how she affects me, even if she watched me jerk off. I grin at that thought, and she narrows her eyes at me as if she knows exactly what I’m thinking about.

I have to give her credit. She doesn’t break her stare, rather she holds her own and silently tells me she’s not backing down.

Damn, this woman has some fire in her bones.

Shit, I like that about her. I like it a hell of a lot.

“I noticed you don’t have any pictures of family or friends around here.” My entire body tightens because I know where this is headed. “But,” she pauses for a second, “I did see a framed picture of a woman on your nightstand.” She looks down at her feet, perhaps thinking this might not be the best topic of conversation to bring up. I sure as fuck don’t want to talk about it, but I can tell she’s curious. When she looks at me again, I can see she’s guarded. “I was just wondering who she was since it’s the only photo in your home.”

I don’t answer for long seconds, not really sure what to say. Truth is if she was anyone else I’d tell her to mind her own fucking business. Maybe I should do that anyway, but I know she means well. Being stuck in a cabin for days with another person isn’t the easiest thing, especially when those two people fight like cats and dogs.

Her curiosity clearly won out.

I turn around and start cutting into the steak, not sure if I even want to answer her question. Maybe if I’m silent enough, she'll take the hint and leave it as is.

“I’m sorry I brought it up,” she finally says, and I can sense her retreating.

Without turning around, I say, “Her name was Justine, and she was someone who meant a great deal to me.” Just thinking about her has all kinds of pain returning tenfold. It’s been years since she’s been gone, but shit, thinking about it right now feels like it just happened yesterday.

After plating the steaks, I grab the baked potatoes that are warming in the oven and walk toward the table to set the two plates down a little too hard. Thinking about Justine has put me in one hell of a foul mood, and although I know it’s not Kylie’s fault what happened to her, I can’t help but have my shitty mood come through loud and fucking clear.

Not looking at Kylie, I go back to the counter to grab silverware and the rest of the food. Once seated at the table I look at the spread. I’d been starving before I started cooking, but now I had no appetite.

“Sit,” I order, avoiding her gaze. “Hope you’re hungry.”

“I am. Thank you.” She takes a seat across from me.

Digging into the food, I keep my eyes on the plate in front of me, but I feel her gaze on me as I eat.

“Kylie,” I say in a warning tone, wanting her to eat before the food gets cold but I have a feeling she won’t until we get through this awkward conversation.

“I shouldn’t have mentioned it. I’m sorry,” Kylie repeats, and I finally glance up at her. She’s not looking at me, but even so, I can see that she looks like she truly is. That genuine emotion is expressed all over her face.

Exhaling, I run my hand over my mouth, the days’ worth of stubble covering my cheek and jaw.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” I finally say, wanting to console her because the look on her face has me softening like butter. Kylie looks up at me, pulling her lips into her mouth. “It’s just…” Shit. I haven't allowed myself to think about Justine and her accident for a long time. Too long if I’m being honest. “She was my sister.” The silence stretches on between us, and I watch as she shifts on her chair. “She passed away a little over five years ago.” The air thickens, getting uncomfortable.

“Wow. I’m sorry to hear that.” She flashes a genuine, comforting smile. “I imagine that was a hard time in your life.”

“It was,” I admit. “Still is sometimes,” I find myself adding. Watching her, I see her shoulders relax. “You thought it was an old girlfriend, didn’t you?” I reach for my beer, pop the cap, and swallow half of it, all the while watching Kylie over the rim.

“I…” She glances away, but I know she’s not finished. “I’m not sure what I thought.”

She definitely did. I can see the truth written on her face. She’s too embarrassed or maybe uncomfortable now to admit. “I’m sorry I brought it up and made you talk about it. I should’ve kept it to myself.” She sighs, finally picking up her fork and knife to cut into her food, and a long moment of silence passes between us. “And yeah, I thought it was a girlfriend.” She doesn’t look at me as she speaks.

I can’t help but chuckle despite the dark way the conversation had turned. “No, definitely not a girlfriend—old or new,” I confess. Although I’m not about to reveal that I haven't been with a woman in longer than I care to admit. “I’m not in the habit of keeping mementos of past relationships.”

She doesn’t say anything in response, but I can tell she’s still feeling weird as fuck for where the conversation turned. We eat in silence for a while before I decide to tell her the whole story. I haven’t talked about my sister in years, though I think about her daily.

“At the time, Justine had been dating this guy for a couple years. I thought he was a stand-up dude, one she could be happy and finally settle down with.” I feel my anger start to rise at the thought of what I was going to tell her next, how I was going to bare a part of myself that I’d kept buried for a long time. I scrub my hand over my jaw again, thinking back to that time. It makes me pissed and sad all at the same time.

“We don’t have to go there,” she reassures softly when she notices my hesitation.

I stare into her blue eyes, wanting to tell her this part of myself. I don’t get personal or share emotional stories, but with Kylie I find myself wanting to do a hell of a lot of things that are out of the ordinary for me—like bleed my soul to her.

“Long story short, because truthfully I don’t want to rehash all that shit, the motherfucker she was dating was a drunk, abusive prick. He started hitting her, and when I beat his ass for it and threatened to kill him if he ever touched my sister again, he went off the rails.” I think about that night, about how it had been Justine who’d pulled me off the bastard. She’d been leaving his ass, but the asshole hadn’t wanted any of that.

I clench my jaw as I picture that night. It’s still so clear in my mind. I can even smell the blood in the air after I broke his nose.

“My sister was smart, really fucking smart, but he talked her into getting in his car. I don’t know if he promised all kinds of shit or not, that he wouldn’t touch her again, or that he’d do better, but the weather was shit because of an incoming storm. He’d already been drinking that night, and one thing led to another.” I stare right at Kylie’s face, seeing her eyes widen, that look of horror written on her face. I’d seen that expression plenty of times after Justine passed away, those sorrowful reactions from everyone around.

But it’s different with Kylie. I want to pull her in close and hold her, let her ease my emotions in the same way I’d do for her.

“He slid on a patch of black ice, crashed the car and killed my sister.” I lean back in the chair, trying to keep my emotions in check. On the outside, I’m an apathetic asshole, but on the inside, I’m ready to tear out of my damn skin. My hands are in my lap curled into tight fists, my nails digging into my palms.

“God, Luke,” she says softly. “That’s horrible. I’m so sorry.”

I stare down at my plate. “Yeah, it was a long time ago, but shit,” I say as I run a hand over the back of my head. When I look at Kylie again, I can see how genuinely concerned she is for me. “Anyway, she used to stay in that room when she’d visit me. Only seemed appropriate that she’s always there now.”

And just like that, I bared my fucking soul to Kylie—a woman who I loved to hate.