How dare he talk to me like that, like he knows me? Sure, he used to be the person who knew me best . . . even better than my own best friend.

But, I’m a different person now. I’m a grown-up, and he doesn’t get to order me around like that.

For all he knows, I had already set up an alarm to go off so I would wake up around now.

For all he knows, Eddie could have already called me and told me he was coming.

For all he knows, my clothes aren’t wet but just patterned.

I stare at him. After the way he broke things off between us, he doesn’t have any right acting like he knows me.

But, at the same time, I can’t deny he’s right.

He looks up at me from the couch, his dark gaze steady and calm. The flame from the fireplace behind him casts his face in shadows, making him appear sinister and dangerous. He exudes a certain alpha quality I can’t quite pin down, a certain authority I can’t just dismiss.

“Fine.” I realize my voice sounds bratty and petulant, so I add, “If you insist, I’ll stay.”

“Good,” Eli says. “Take your wet clothes off and put on this blanket.”

I grab the striped fleece blanket from his hand. He has taken off his own jacket. I can’t help but notice his beautiful, veiny forearms and big, masculine hands.

“Don’t peek.” I walk around the couch to stand between the back of his couch and the fireplace.

“Of course not,” he says. “Not if you don’t want me to.”

What does he mean by that?

I’m glad Eli’s not looking my way because his careless words are enough to send a chill down my arms. My face heats up, and it’s not just because of the flame from the fireplace.

My heart races, making it hard for me to take off my clothes as my fingers grow unsteady. But eventually, I manage to shed my shirt again and wrap the large, warm, soft blanket around myself.

I take a seat in front of the fireplace, letting my skin soak up the heat again.

“Are you done?” Eli asks.

“Yeah.”

I don’t turn around when I hear the floor planks creak under his weight. Somehow, I know he’s about to join me.

Eli drags a big bear rug toward the fireplace and sits down on it. “The rug is much softer than the floor,” he says. That’s an invitation, I guess.

I plant my butt on the animal pelt. It really is soft. It’s warm, too.

“Why are you sitting so far away from me?” he asks.

“It’s a big rug.” I shrug.

“I won’t bite.” Eli cocks me a crooked smile. “Are you afraid your city boyfriend will be angry if you get too close to some dirty, country bumpkin?”

“No.”

“Is there a husband who might get angry about it?” Eli asks.

“I’m not married.”

“Boyfriend?”

“No.” I don’t know why I give him an honest answer. If I really want to make it seem like I’ve been doing well in the city without him, I should tell him what a great time I’m having with my sophisticated, city boyfriend instead.

Eli’s lips spread into a small smile, but it doesn’t escape my attention.

That answer pleases him, for some reason. Is he feeling smug because he thinks I haven’t gotten over him? Or, does he want me for himself?

Don’t be silly, I scold myself.

If Eli wanted me, he could’ve had me. There was a time when I would’ve dropped everything to be with him.

Things are different now. It’s been seven years. We’re different people.

Besides, have I seriously forgotten what I did yesterday in front of him, how much of a fool I had made myself?

My mind thinks back to the cupcakes he bought yesterday. It looked like he was a regular at Bertha’s shop, too. Surely, he doesn’t buy them all for himself.

I certainly can’t imagine a rugged mountain man like Eli to be a big fan of Bertha’s sweet, pretty, little cupcakes, even if they’re delicious.

“Why is that?” Eli asks.

“Huh?”

“Why no boyfriend?”

I shrug.

“I see.” He nods.

“What do you see?”

“You’re still chasing your dream career, huh?”

“Something like that.” Partly to change the subject and partly to satisfy my curiosity, I ask, “Is there a wife who might get angry about a naked girl being alone here with you?”

Eli chuckles and shakes his head.

“Girlfriend?”

“Nope.” Eli gazes at me. A reflection of the flame dances in his eyes as his lips curl up into a smile.

“Why is that?”

Eli shrugs.

“You’re what, thirty-two?” I ask, knowing full well how old he is. “Most people are already married at twenty-five in Ashbourne—or so my mom tells me every time we speak on the phone.”

Eli bursts out laughing, filling the log cabin with the happy sound. “So, your mom is anxious to see grandchildren, I take it?”

“Hey, it’s my turn to be asking questions, Eli,” I protest playfully. “Why aren’t you married? Don’t you believe in love?”

“I do.” Eli smiles. For a moment, I think I see a flicker of sadness in his eyes, but it disappears in an instant.

“I don’t.” I avoid his gaze and stare at the flame, afraid of what he might see in my eyes.

The room is quiet except for the crackle from the fireplace and the ticking of the clock.

“It didn’t use to be that way,” Eli breaks the silence.

“What?”

“You used to believe in love,” he says, his voice so gentle I might forget how cruel he can be. He speaks as if he wasn’t the one who broke my heart, all those years ago.

“Yeah, well, I grew up,” I say the words casually even though my chest tightens.

“Things were different then,” Eli says.

“Yeah, they were.” I speak through the lump in my throat. Oh, how things have changed.

“Do you ever miss those days?” he asks.

I hesitate. All the time, I want to say. But instead, I ask him, “Who doesn’t miss their younger days?”

Eli lets out another amused chuckle. His eyes take on a faraway look, like he’s seeing an old film reel play in his mind. “You’re right. I know I do. I miss those days all the time.”

“You do?” I ask, genuinely surprised. I stare at him.

“Of course.” He fixes his gaze on me. “Remember how we used to come here all the time, whenever Angela was busy with something else?”

“Yeah . . .” I carefully answer. We’re getting into dangerous territory here. I can feel my heart beating faster, just like it did whenever Eli was around.

“I was supposed to be ‘hiking,’ and you were ‘at the library,’” he says, drawing air quotes with his fingers as he laughs softly. He gazes at me with the same tenderness I saw in those stolen moments.

“Yeah,” I say again as my heart jumps to my throat.

“I loved those moments. I loved being here with you. Just you and me.”

Eli’s deep baritone sends vibrations straight to my heart. How can he still make me feel this way after all these years?

With just a few words, he has transported me back to a simpler time, a happier time. A time when we had a chance to be us, no matter how limited.

Eli sits up and leans closer, making my heart hammer in my rib cage. I almost can’t believe it when he puts his big, warm hand on my cheek and caresses my skin. He tilts his head as he looks deep into my eyes like he can’t quite believe I’m here either.

“What are you doing to me, Sophia?” he asks softly. “Why does it feel like . . . like we’ve never left?”

I look up into his hypnotizing eyes, nuzzling into his hand. “You’re doing the same thing to me, Eli.”

“I remember everything.” He lightly runs his thumb over my lower lip. “I remember how these lips used to taste. They were the sweetest thing.”

My body remembers his touch, too. As soon as he starts to lean closer, my eyelids flutter shut. I don’t even think about it.

Then, I wait. I wait for what I know is coming, what I’m sure must be coming. I know because it has happened hundreds of times before in real life and thousands of times more in my dreams and fantasies.

When Eli’s lips brush against mine, they feel firm. Smooth. Hot. His arms wrap around me, more comforting than the blanket I’m wearing and warmer than the flame burning beside us.

As his mouth teases me, coaxing me to respond, I part my lips and let him sweep inside. He traces my bottom lip with his tongue and nibbles on it, harder and harder until it start to hurt. He has always enjoyed mixing pleasure and a little bit of pain.

“A little pain enhances pleasure,” he used to say.

My senses reel as he grabs the bottom of my skull, pulling my hair. He starts a fire burning in my body; he makes me hotter than the fireplace ever could. He heats me up from the inside.

When Eli pulls away, a smile plays on his wet lips.

His gaze is hungry, predatory. His touch is forceful. But, what really makes my emotions wage war in my chest is this gentleness pouring out of him, flooding my whole being.

“I’ve missed this,” he whispers, his breath softly falling on my skin.

And just like that, the magic is broken. Despite the yearning in my soul, I put my hands on his broad, brawny shoulders and push him away.

“I . . . I’m sorry. I need to go,” I say.

It would be easy for Eli to stop me. He’s so much bigger, so much stronger than me. But, he lets go, even as he shoots me a thousand questions with his dark eyes.

“I need to . . .” I get up. The bearskin rug feels soft under my feet. I want to stay, but I need to go. I tell Eli, “I should take a bath before I go home.” I catch a glimpse of my wet clothes lying on the floor by the fireplace and add, “Maybe my clothes will be dry by the time I’m done.”

With that vague explanation, I dash to the bathroom. My head spins as I shut the door behind me, lean back on it, and let myself slide to the floor.

Eli didn’t see that there was anything wrong, but I feel like I’m about to shatter into tiny pieces, the way I did when he left me the first time.

Tears stream down my face. Before Eli can hear me sobbing, I turn on the tap, and the tub starts to fill with hot water.

If I’m not careful, I won’t survive this. I may be older and wiser, but apparently I still haven’t developed immunity to my biggest weakness. I can’t go through what Eli put me through seven years ago.

A big, old wound gapes open. And all it took was a few minutes alone with Eli.

Get a grip, Sophia.

* * *

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