I watch Azalea’s ass as she saunters toward the bathroom, her hips swaying, stirring something fierce in me. I told her we had plans, which was an outright lie. The truth is, I needed a few to process everything she just told me.

So much of this drama between us was nothing more than miscommunications and totally avoidable. It eats me up that we lost time together, but it makes me more determined than ever to secure our future.

While she’s occupied with getting ready, I put plans into motion to make sure she ends up where she belongs—with me. Always with me.

Half an hour later, Azalea pads back into the living room, her hair wrapped in a towel with her robe cinched tight at her waist.

I stalk toward her, loving the way she looks fresh out of the shower. “You are so damn beautiful,” I growl into her ear, sending a shiver down her spine.

“Hush up.” She tries to step out of my grasp.

“Never. You’re beautiful inside and out.”

“Such a charmer. What’re our plans for the day?”

I pull her even closer so that her head is nestled just below my chin, with my hands gripping the firm globes of her ass. “I figured we could whip up a late lunch and maybe hike a bit in the woods around the lake? Did you bring your boots?”

She nods against my chest. “I did, thanks to your dad. Yeah, that sounds nice. Why don’t you go shower, and I’ll see what I can make us to eat?”

I pin her with a smoldering look. “I know exactly what I’d like to—”

“Shh,” Azalea hushes me. “Not like that. Food. For both of us.”

“Yeah, yeah. Dash all my hopes and dreams, why don’t ya.” She gives me a playful shove before heading into the kitchen to start on lunch.

After a quick shower, I dress and make my way back to Azalea. Quietly, I sneak up behind her as she stands in front of the stove, waiting on the microwave to finish. “What’s cookin’, good lookin’?” I say into her neck, making her jump a little.

“You’ve got to stop sneaking up on me! I’m gonna die from a heart attack one of these days.”

“I’m sorry, Bit. What’re we eating though?”

“Nothin’ fancy. Just steamed some veggies in the microwave to go with the rotisserie chicken we bought.”

“I don’t need fancy. I just need you.”

Azalea spins to face me, a wide grin lighting up her face. She waves her hand up and down her body as if she’s showcasing it. “Well, ya got me!”

We devour the chicken and veggies, leaving just enough meat for Azalea to pull it from the bones to use in a soup.

“C’mon, Azalea, catch up,” Drake calls from the top of the hill I’m desperately trying to make my way up. I pause to glare daggers at him but get caught up in the way his thermal shirt fits him like a second skin. The man is too good-looking for his own good.

He shakes his head at me and starts moving down the hill toward me. “You tired?”

“Exhausted,” I tell him, shivering as I pull my scarf up to cover my mouth and nose.

“It’s not that cold, Bit.” His eyes dance with mirth.

Rolling my eyes, I lazily drag them over him. Truly, he’s a work of art. Meanwhile, I’m a cold, sweaty mess. Cold and sweaty! “Speak for yourself, sir. I’m dripping sweat from exertion, and every time the wind whips through the damn trees, I swear to God I can feel the sweat turning to ice!”

Drake steps into my space and wraps me in his strong arms. “Dramatic much?”

Snorting, I tell him, “Like that’s some kind of surprise?”

“I love your antics, Azalea. I love you.” His words send a warm zing through me, and I slip my hands into his back pockets.

“I love you, too, ya know?”

He nods against me. “I do. Now, let’s head back before you become an icicle.”

“So, you admit it’s cold!”

Drake turns and presents his back to me. “Hop on.” And I do, my body melting against his, trying to absorb his heat. “And for the record, I admit no such thing. I’m simply conceding that you’re cold.”

“Potato, po-tah-to, D. Now, take us home!”

* * *

With each step over the bumpy terrain, I rock and jolt against Drake’s strong back in the most delicious of ways. I feel like I’m on the verge of insanity by the time the lake house comes into view.

My thighs tighten around his hips as I try to find purchase—anything to relieve this ache building in me.

“Squirm much?” he asks, sounding smug.

“I . . . I just . . . put me down.”

“Why? Something bothering you?”

Insufferable. This man is insufferable. Sweetly, I tell him, “If you set me down, I’ll show you exactly what’s bothering me.”

Instead of doing as I say, Drake hikes me higher on his back, causing goose bumps—that aren’t from the cold—to rake my body. “Pretty sure I know what’s wrong, Bit.” He takes two more steps and lowers me at the front door. “Also, pretty sure I know how to fix it.”

I’m about to ask him exactly what he thinks needs fixing, but before I get the chance, he’s on me. His lips clash with mine, and we’re all teeth and tongue as our bodies reunite.

He has me pinned to the front door as he explores my body over the layers of clothing, only serving to make me want him more. “Inside,” I mumble, unable to string enough words together to form a sentence.

Luckily, Drake speaks my cave-woman language and lifts me by my thighs, guiding my legs to wrap around him. He quickly unlocks the door and walks us inside, never once removing his lips from mine—it’s like the man has superpowers.

“Undress,” he commands, his voice dripping with authority and seduction.

Silently, I obey. First, I remove my boots and thick socks, followed by my fleece-lined leggings, jacket, shirt, and scarf. He pulls my hat from my head before I have a chance to and runs his fingers through my hair, holding my body—clad in only my undergarments and gloves—to his.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he tells me as he drops to his knees, peeling my panties down my legs along the way.

My body is taut with anticipation, more than ready for his next move. More than ready to feel him exactly where I ache for him. But instead, he presses a chaste kiss to my left hipbone before rising back to his full height.

With precise movements, he unhooks my bra, sliding the straps down my arms. He removes it and my gloves simultaneously, leaving me stark naked in front of him.

My first instinct is to cover myself, but I fight it, standing tall and proud, letting him look his fill. The fire in his eyes is enough to warm me all over. Silently, he moves toward me. He trails his fingers down each arm, starting at my shoulders before taking my hands in his.

“I want you so much. So. Damn. Much.” His words are husky and filled with a longing that matches my own.

“Then have me,” I whimper as he brings my arms around his waist and presses his lips into mine again.

This time, our kiss is controlled, with Drake setting the tempo. He nips at my lower lip and licks away the sting, his tongue slowly tasting mine. “Not yet, Azalea. Not yet.”

I keen toward him, following his lips with mine as he pulls away. “Why?” I whine, sounding weak and needy—which is exactly what I am for this man.

“Because it’s not time yet.” Holding my shoulders, he steps an arm’s length back from me.

“When? When will it be time?” I ask, borderline begging.

“You’ll know. Now, go take a bath and warm up, and I’ll tend to the fire and start reheating the soup.”

I do as he tells me, not because I’m feeling particularly obedient but because I want to show him that I really do get it, and that I’m okay with things being more than physical between us. It’s one thing for me to say it, another for me to show it.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, I’m still soaking in the bath, watching through the huge picture window as the sun begins to dip below the horizon. I’m so mesmerized by the beauty of the landscape and the feel of the hot water licking at my skin that I don’t hear Drake as he enters the bathroom.

“Warm enough yet?” he asks. I jolt at his words, sending water sloshing over the side of the tub.

“You have to stop sneaking up on me, Drake.”

“I wasn’t sneaking. You were just distracted. For real, though, are you warm enough?”

“I am. How long until the soup is ready?” I ask, watching on in delight as he begins shedding his clothes.

“I’ve got it simmering. Should only need about another twenty minutes.”

“Yeah, okay. Great.” I trip over my words, distracted by all the skin on display as Drake stands there in his boxer briefs. “Sounds good. Perfect.”

“Little Bit, you’re babbling.” He moves to get a towel and holds it out to me.

Using my big toe, I pop the drain and stand from the water. His eyes rake over my body like hot coals, but he makes no move to touch me other than wrapping me in the towel and offering me his hand to step over the side of the tub.

“I’m gonna rinse off while you get dressed, and then we can eat. I might even have a surprise for you.”

“I hate surprises,” I deadpan.

“Well aware, but this one is different.”

Rolling my eyes, I leave the bathroom without another word. We’ll see if I like this surprise or not soon enough.