When I turn down the rutted lane that leads to my cabin, my fingers are drumming a rhythm against the steering wheel, a sure sign that I’m nervous. I force myself to stop.

This is no big deal. It’s just a hookup, though it promises to be a spectacular one.

True, she doesn’t have her own car, so eventually I’ll have to take her home. But hell, if things really go sideways, I can always plead the demands of being a business owner and ask one of my cousins to drive her back.

I can’t remember now why bringing her here seemed like a good idea. Fucking her in the back of my car would have been better. Or right there in the club, if I found a dark enough corner.

But she’s here now. And she’s just a girl. A hot, sweet girl. Not an enemy combatant.

When the cabin comes into view at the end of the lane, I speak briskly, a little too enthusiastically, every inch the bon vivant host. “Here we are. Home sweet home.”

Sasha doesn’t reply. She cuts her eyes toward me, and I know she’s read my false cheer for the bullshit it is. Instead of leveling with her, I amp it up.

“Problem?” I ask, looking her right in the eye while I shut off the engine. She shakes her head, not quite meeting my gaze, and fumbles with the door handle.

Shit. I’ve got to get it together or this’ll be over before it has a chance to start. I spend the next few seconds, while I get out of the SUV, clamping down on my emotions with an iron grip.

By the time I join her at the front door, I’m as remote as an Arctic village. I don’t look at her or say anything while I deal with the security system. If Sasha wonders why my little cabin is locked up tight against anything short of a missile strike, she doesn’t mention it.

I hold the door open for her and she crosses the threshold, her arm just barely brushing my stomach. A whiff of her scent reaches me, something light and floral, and in a flash the ravenous hunger I felt in the club returns with a vengeance.

It’s all I can do not to grab her and drag her down to the floor. Keeping my movements slow and deliberate, I close the door, lock it, and then lower the heavy crossbar into place. When I look up, Sasha’s staring at the door, but she turns away without saying anything.

She surveys the space while I watch her, keeping my distance. When she doesn’t comment, I feel compelled to fill the silence. “Kitchen, dining room, and living room downstairs. That door there leads to the pantry, and the one over there to the laundry and the bathroom.”

There’s a cathedral ceiling, with the second floor taking up half the space of the lower level, and a railing running the length of the hallway. “Upstairs has three bedrooms. The one on that end I use as an office. These two share a bathroom, reachable from the hallway as well as access doors in each bedroom.”

Sasha gives me a tiny smile. “Nice place. You’ve got a fancy kitchen.”

“I gutted the original and put in a new one. Tearing down walls and expanding the cabin was more project than I wanted to take on, so I made it fit in the space available. But I’ve got a big kitchen at work anyway, and this one is large enough for me to test recipes and make normal-sized meals. I just needed the equipment to be top of the line.”

“Makes sense. Kind of a hassle to have to drive somewhere every time inspiration strikes.”

“Exactly. Something to drink?”

She starts to speak, stops, then says, “Whatever you’re having.”

I’m guessing she’s not twenty-one yet and doesn’t want to admit it. I haven’t dated anyone who was too young to drink since I was a kid myself. The fridge has cold beer, so I grab a couple and hand her one, clinking my bottle against hers. She lifts hers in a silent salute and takes a small sip.

I almost laugh at the look on her face. Not a beer drinker, then. Taking a healthy swig of mine, I gesture toward the sturdy leather sofa against one wall.

She reaches it first and goes for the center cushion. Good; she’s not playing hard to get. I sit close, but not smashed right up against her.

Her scent hits me again and I will my cock to behave. There’s a flat-screen tv facing us, hung on the same wall as the front door. “Movie?” I ask.

“Sure.”

I grab the remote and start clicking through the offerings. “Not a big fan of horror,” Sasha says when I pause on a Stephen King adaptation. “One of the Avengers films, maybe?”

“Guardians of the Galaxy?” I suggest.

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

I start the movie, impressed that she’s confident enough to tell me what she likes and doesn’t like. Turning my head just a little puts my face almost in her hair. Closing my eyes, I draw in that delicate fragrance that’s already branded on my brain as hers alone.

When I open them again, she’s ignoring the film and watching me. “You smell good,” I tell her.

She doesn’t answer, doesn’t look away, but a faint blush tinges her cheeks. There’s a weighted pause, and then I close the distance and fit my mouth to hers.

Oh, fuck. It’s even better this time. Scraping together every shred of self control I possess, I kiss her slowly but deeply, turning my body at an angle to hers, pressing her back against the sofa.

When I finally lift my head, her face is flushed, her eyes half lidded. My cock is about to burst out of my pants, but I lift her into my arms and carry her upstairs. I’m not going to fuck her on the couch like a randy teenager.

Not the first time, anyway.