After a light lunch of soup and some bread from my cabin, I help Aubrey over to his couch, where he can lie down while I look at his injuries more closely. “Okay, off with the shirt.” My voice is all business, professional as always when I’m in nurse mode, but underneath, I know I need to prepare myself for what I’m about to see. Aubrey is like a walking, talking dream in clothes. Shirtless, he’s the stuff fantasies are made of, judging by how many times I’ve pictured him the last few days.

Aubrey grunts, lifting just his right arm. He gets his left up only a few inches before his face tightens and I put a hand on his wrist.

“I’ll help you with it,” I say calmly while wanting to slap him right across his handsome face. The dumb, stubborn idiot. He intentionally hurt himself just to try and get me out of the house to talk to him. I mean, showing off a little, not giving up? That’s one thing, but this . . .

I ease his tank top up and off his body, my breath catching a little.

I know I should be detached, keep a clinical mind to assess his injury. But a baser, more needy side of me notices how close he his, the way his chest is heaving a bit from the work of taking his shirt off, and how the dusting of hair runs down in a line into the waistband of his jeans, making me want to follow it. His abs clench, and he hisses as he tries to explore his injured side himself. Clearing my throat, I try to focus on the more immediate problem as I run my hand carefully over the area, looking for any tender spots. My fingertips burn where they touch his skin and I wonder if he feels it too. “You did this on purpose.”

Even though he all but admitted it earlier, Aubrey plays innocent, grunting at me. “Had work to do.”

Shaking my head, I press gently, not feeling anything broken there at least. “Sure. Now you’re worse off than you were.”

Aubrey looks at me through hooded eyes, watching my hand trace along his skin. His voice is gravelly, deeper than usual, although it doesn’t seem to be from the pain. “I’d say I’m better. Got a pretty girl taking care of me. You know, you’re a hard one to crack. Almost as stubborn as me.”

The compliment and the admission that he knows he’s a stubborn ass make me blush, and I keep rubbing his skin, moving over his chest and biting my lip as I feel the rock-hard muscle underneath. I pretend I’m still searching for injuries, but we both know that’s not true. I appreciate that he lets me keep up the façade, though, because if he called me on it, I’d stop and we both know it. “I should’ve let you lie out there until your dog dragged you back inside.” My voice is a whisper, more seductive than admonishment.

“But you didn’t,” Aubrey says, covering my hand with his. “Because you care.” There’s a moment, both of us frozen, and I can feel his heart beating fast and hard under my hand. His eyes are locked on mine, daring me, begging me. It would be so easy to slip into his lap, carefully to keep from hurting his ribs, straddle his cock, and take his mouth. Let him fill me, shatter all this tension coiling through my core. So easy, and yet . . . so hard on my heart. He’s dangerous.

I don’t respond, letting the moment stretch until it snaps as Rex grumbles in his sleep by the fire. Thankful for the reprieve, I decide to change the subject. Getting the rubbing alcohol, I wash his ribs and a few scratches I find, not sure if they’re new or old, looking for another subject to focus on. Anything. “You sure have a lot of wood lying around. You must get a lot of splinters.”

Aubrey shrugs, looking at his calloused palms. “You get used to it. And I like to keep plenty handy for when I’m in the mood for woodworking.” He gestures to a large chair. “Made that.” He says it casually, like making a freaking chair is no big deal.

“Really?” I ask, glancing back. The chair is massive, definitely Aubrey-sized, with smooth runners to let it rock back and forth, a high back, and wide armrests. I have a flash of Aubrey working night after night by firelight to shape the posts just so. Then I picture him sitting in it, my legs spread wide over the armrests as he pumps up into me, rocking with the motion of our bodies joining. Fuck, I’ve got to stop. I gulp. “You do good work.”

“I’m good with my hands,” Aubrey says, his voice thick with meaning.

I breathe in sharply, wondering just how good and knowing that I’ve got to redirect the conversation to something safer or I’m going to fall into his trap, willing and begging. “I can’t imagine living out here like this. No Starbucks? No takeout Chinese? I’d go insane.”

Aubrey looks out the window, seemingly lost . . . in the woods? In the past? In something, for sure. “At first, it was a big change for me. I traveled around, just sort of drifted for a while, trying to find peace. To find what I really wanted. But when I came here, it was like finally, everything was calm. I started to feel right at home.”

Trying to find what you really wanted? I thought I was what you wanted, I want to scream. It takes effort to shove down the anger and to not burst out and tell him the heartache he’d caused me. But what good would it do now? It’s been ten years. And until this trip, I was all but over Aubrey O’Day.

Aubrey, though, seems to notice my expression. “You’re mad at me.”

“Annoyed,” I partially lie, “for your being a damn fool about your foot.”

“No,” Aubrey says quietly, his voice a low rumble that has my belly filled with butterflies and my pulse starting to race, “No . . . you’re mad at more than that.”

I scoff, but it’s weak, unconvincing. “How would you know? You don’t know me. Not anymore.”

“Oh, I know you well,” Aubrey says. “But even if I didn’t, you’re practically thinking out loud. It’s written all over your face.”

I pale, wondering what’s slipped between my lips as I’ve been trying to find something to distract myself. I get up, gathering the mess of cotton balls and supplies from my earlier doctoring, but Aubrey reaches out and grabs my wrist. “Hey . . .”

Without thinking, I yank my hand away, needing the distance. But Aubrey hisses in pain, his eyes tightening, and I immediately feel sorry even though he grabbed me.

Shit, he jerked and tweaked his ribs when I pulled my hand away. “Aubrey, are you okay?”

“Fine,” he growls. “Probably deserved it.”

I sit and place my hand on his ribs again, not pressing hard but just feeling his warm skin. “How does that feel? Any pain?”

Aubrey winces slightly, but not much. I move my fingers gingerly, watching his face for signs of pain. “Not really. I think it’s lower,” he says, heat rising in my chest as I move my hand lower, just to the edge of his ribs, almost to his abdomen. I glance at my hand, noting with a hitch of breath that he has not a six-pack but an eight-pack. So unfair when I’m trying so hard to be good. God, why does he have to be so tempting?

“Here?”

The corners of his lips tilt up, so slight I wouldn’t have noticed if I wasn’t watching so closely, and his voice lowers to a commanding rasp. “Lower.”

In almost a trance, my heart racing and my pussy starting to ache, I move lower. “Here?”

“Not quite.”

I slide my hand lower, almost to his waistband, where I can see his happy trail begin. I watch, seeing the bulge in his jeans thicken, my cheeks red-hot as Aubrey growls. “Ana . . .”

I jerk my hand away, blushing fiercely. “Keep dreaming, asshole.” I stand once again, needing even more to get away before I do something stupid. His cock was right there, barely an inch from my hand, and my fingers tingled to touch him, stroke him.

Aubrey sighs, trying to sit up. He gets about halfway up before he flops back, groaning in pain. His fist punches into the couch cushion on his good side as he mutters, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“What happened?” I ask, my nurse instincts immediately taking over. “You may have a fracture . . .”

Aubrey grunts, shaking his head. “It’s not the ribs, just put too much weight on the ankle. Help me over to my bed?” The tension is gone, replaced with frustration on his part. I get the feeling he’s mad at being hurt, hates needing help. I think maybe he’s accustomed to being alone, not needing anything or anybody.

I nod, helping him up. I’m fully aware of how close his stripped and ripped upper body is as he leans on me, hopping on his left foot as we make our way to the bed. It’s awkward and time-consuming because he’s so much bigger than I am. “Three . . . two . . . one,” Aubrey says as we get closer.

“Okay, nice and easy,” I whisper, my hands holding him tighter as I move in front. I can’t help it. I feel the swell of his cock press against my belly as I look up at him, my hands on his back to steady him. “Now down in one . . . two . . .”

Aubrey sits down suddenly, pulling me with him so that I land on top of him in the middle of the bed, my legs splaying to feel him pressed against me. I look down at his prone form beneath me, pissed but also so turned on I just want to stay here for a while. He hisses in pain, and I try to shift off him.

He grabs my waist, holding me still. “Worth it,” he grunts.

“Don’t tell me you faked that. You bastard.”

Aubrey’s hands stay on my waist, just above my waistband as he smirks up at me. “Not quite. Hurts like a bitch. But you love it. You want me too.”

“Ugh,” I growl, pushing up, but that just presses me harder against his bulge, and I whimper. “You don’t know what I want—”

Aubrey interrupts me. “I saw you. In the shower.”

I freeze. No . . .God, no. I look in his eyes and see that he’s telling me the truth. I blush furiously, embarrassed that he saw me . . . like that, doing that. I’m well on my way to covering my embarrassment with righteous anger when he continues. “It was the sexiest fucking thing I’d ever seen.”

I bite my lip, the heat from the anger turning into lust as I imagine him watching me, what he thought, what he did. Needing that visual, I whisper, hoping that if I’m quiet enough, I won’t have to admit that I asked. “What did you do?”

Aubrey’s hands drift lower to rest on the top of my ass. I want to pull away. I know I should . . . but I can’t. Too much of me doesn’t want to.

“I jacked off for you too. Right there in the woods, leaning against a tree with my hard cock in my hand, watching you fuck your fingers, wishing you were taking my cock in that sweet little pussy.” His words are dirty, letting me picture him that way too. It’s something I’d like to see for real, if I’m honest, this wild, untamed beast pumping furiously as he watches me with an intense predatory gaze, knowing that it’s all because of me.

I feel like prey, even now as he stares up at me, but there’s a hint of control in knowing that he’s following me, wanting me.

“I think I’d have liked to see that too,” I reply, my voice catching as another tingle runs up from my pussy. God, I’m so wet. Why am I even fighting this at all?

“My balls are still aching from it. I haven’t come that hard in . . . forever.”

I look down, my voice a needy rasp. “Good.”

“Good?” Aubrey snarls, his hands dropping to cup my ass fully. He squeezes, and I can’t help it, I whimper. “Oh, Ana, that’s far from good. You know why?”

“Why?” I almost whisper, trying with all my might to not just start riding him right now.

“Because I promised myself I was going to give you just as big a load as you got out of my cock when I came all over myself watching you. All over your tits, your ass, in your pussy. Wherever you’ll let me.”

His words are like a punch to the gut, my breath taken away. It takes a moment for me to gather myself. “In your dreams,” I reply, but it’s a futile argument, and I know it as I look into his smoldering eyes. And in mine, too.

Aubrey seems to read my mind and pulls my hips down until I’m pressed against him, another helpless whimper rising in my throat. “In my dreams, I fuck you hard until you’re screaming my name,” he growls. “Deep, hard, and raw until you can’t take any more.”

Oh, God, Aubrey never used to talk to me like this. No one has ever talked to me like that. I love it. I don’t even want to protest. I’m so turned on my pussy is aching, desperate for him to make good on his promise, at least this time. His big cock filling me until he empties every last drop he’s got inside me? Yes, please. But I’m breathing so fast and my heart is pounding so hard I can’t even speak.

His hands squeeze my ass, hard enough to leave fingerprints, and then he moves deeper, between my legs. I cry out softly as he cups my pussy, his arm so long he can reach all the way around. “I want to fuck you, Ana. Right here, right now. I want you to come all over my cock ‘till you beg for mercy. What’s it gonna be?”

Even with how turned on I am, I’m unsure. My body is screaming yes, but a tiny niggle in my brain gives me pause. Can this just be physical? Can I do this without having closure on why he left? Am I setting myself up for a broken heart again?

He grinds his cock against me and my body wins the argument. Fuck it. Fuck him. And please . . . fuck me.

I lean down, and our lips meet in a fiery kiss.