Travis

I drop the basket of wood by the back door, kicking my boots against the wall to shake off the excess snow. The sound of someone approaching from behind causes me to turn.

Our eyes connect instantly.

“Liv, what’s wrong?” I ask breathlessly, taken aback by her presence. We haven’t spoken to one another since the night I confronted her about the music.

“Nothing,” she replies, tucking her sweater tighter around her lush body. It accentuates the natural curves of her body even more, causing my cock to pay attention. She shivers and steps closer. “Can we talk?”

“Sure,” I murmur, opening the back door. Confused, I turn and walk into my kitchen, shaking off the cold, trying to read her but failing at it. She follows behind, and I see her look around the room, taking in the dark masculine colors surrounding us. “But won’t your husband wonder where you are?”

“He’s my ex-husband, and no he won’t.” She stops at the kitchen island. Her eyes settle on me.

“You sure? You two looked pretty cozy under that blanket a few minutes ago,” I smart off, feeling a sting of jealousy. It didn’t look like they were exes from my vantage point.

“Oh, my god, were you spying on me?” she asks. Her eyes go wide, and I feel territorial about her and what she was doing with her ex.

Shit.

“What? No. I was filling my wood rack and happened to see out of the corner of my eye.” I cross my arms, knowing full well I look like a creeper. Sadly, I wasn’t close enough to hear what they were saying, but between the blanket and the wine, I had an idea. By her reaction, however, it seems like I misread it entirely.

“You were spying on me,” she exclaims.

“I told you—”

“Parker was right,” she says aloud to herself and shakes her head. “He’s the one who said I should come and make nice, but I really didn’t expect this.”

“Wait, please don’t tell me you’re one of those weird swinger couples? ‘Cause I got to tell you I’m not into that scene—”

“Would you shut up for two minutes, so I can explain?” she cuts me off, covering my mouth with her hand. The scent of coconuts fills my nose, and it hits me straight in the cock. Coconut and snow. “Parker is gay.”

“Still not going to change my—” I mumble underneath her hand, my body warming unseasonably to her touch and her tropical scent.

“Damn, you really do have an ego,” she groans and drops her hand. “You’ve got to start processing the words through that thick skull of yours first before you open your mouth.”

I shrug, and Liv groans. It’s a sound I can grow used to, especially if I’m the one making her do it. What is with this woman? She can rile me up, turn me on, and irritate me all in one sentence. I’ve never been challenged the way she does me.

“Like I said, me being here is his idea, and not because of any of those reasons. But because of all the shit going on between the two of us.” I cross my arms and lean a hip against the counter. “We’re neighbors, Travis, whether we like it or not. I don’t want to spend the next ten years feuding with you.”

“Believe it or not, I don’t want that either,” I admit, rubbing the back of my neck with one hand, while the other rests beside me on the counter. “What do you suggest?”

“A permanent truce of some kind.” She unwinds her arms and places her hands flat onto the island countertop in front of her. I get an amazing view of her cleavage in the process. My thoughts swirl, mainly thinking about what my cock would look like sliding in between the soft globes. “I think we can both agree things got out of hand.”

“We both can, although I still don’t understand what I did to earn the punishment.” I sober, moving my eyes away from her tits.

“Are you serious?” Her mouth drops open.

“I’m serious.”

“You hurt my daughter. She cried herself to sleep,” she explains, almost sounding shrill.

“Fuck, Liv, I didn’t do that intentionally. I had a lot to drink and was reeling over the run-in with you. I’ve wanted to apologize to her ever since, but I didn’t think you’d let me near her long enough to do it.”

“You were drinking because of me?”

“I didn’t say that.” I shake my head, unsure of how I feel about where this conversation is going.

“Not out right,” she fires back, and with those words I’m done fighting. She wants me to tell her I was drinking because of her. Because she makes me so crazy I can’t think of anything else but bending her over and fucking her into next week.

Tell her, then, my mind urges me.

“Fuck, woman, I’m done beating around the bush with you.” I exhale, but it comes out like a growl. “I’m attracted to you, and I shouldn’t be. That’s why I was drinking. I was trying to forget the way my cock jumps to attention whenever you start throwing your sass my way.”

“Wait, what?” she whispers, taken aback. My confession is clearly not something she expected. “But you hate me.”

“No, I don’t hate you.” I lower my voice and push off my spot next her to, and move closer, with no intention of turning back. “But I do want to fuck you senseless.”