Left, right, left right.
Bria rocked from side to side in a steady rhythm that reminded her of her grandfather’s old sailboat. He’d had a summer down in the Florida Keys, and she’d loved to visit when she was a kid. But that had been years ago. Something rumbled beneath her, like a giant motor and she tried to rack her brain for where she was but came up empty.
It was no good. Time to wakey…
“When did we board a boat?” Bria asked and blinked herself awake.
She didn’t smell the ocean, but that same, steady, side to side rocking had to be caused by one seaworthy vessel or another. By the time she opened her eyes, she realized her error. She wasn’t on a boat, and the hard, warm bed cushioning her body was, in fact, a man.
It was him. Her stranger. The man who rescued her from the big bad, er, Wolves. Trench Tora in the flesh.
And what nice, firm flesh it was, she thought, feeling her cheeks heat at the errant thought.
“Ooh!”
Bria gasped, almost upending herself. Good thing he had a firm hold of her with one arm across her back and the other beneath her knees. She tightened her arms around his neck, afraid she’d break something falling from that ridiculous height. How tall was he, anyway?”
“Six feet, eight inches,” he replied.
Crap. She’d asked that aloud.
“My cabin’s a mile and a half into the woods from the access road,” he said in a pleasantly deep voice that had shivers racing across her skin.
“Oh?”
“Yep. We’re almost there.”
“You’ve been carrying me for a mile and a half?” she asked astounded.
“Almost a mile and a half,” he corrected.
Holy crap. That was not okay. Bria was not a small girl. Well, she was short, but height was the only thing small about her.
Bria was what polite folks called pleasantly plump, and what her older brother affectionately called cute, but chubby. What could she say? She liked food.
In all honesty, she could probably afford to lose weight, but she’d been on every fad diet that had passed through all the talk shows, and those cheap women’s magazines you found at the checkout line at the supermarket, since high school. The result was always the same.
In self-defense, she’d learned to love her curves. And she had plenty of them. Even her curves had curves. No matter what she’d tried, there was just no getting rid of the soft belly, big breasts, and thick thighs.
Genetics was real, people, and her name wasn’t the only thing she’d gotten from her Italian paternal grandmother. Apparently, the first Bria Grotto had an ass that wouldn’t quit when she’d been younger. Something her granddaughter was keenly aware of since it bumped against Trench’s rock hard abdomen with every step he took.
She couldn’t believe he walked for a mile and a half carrying her. Did she mention that already? That he was still carrying her?
Gulp.
That was so hot.
“Um, I can walk---”
“Quicker this way,” he murmured.
She had to admit, he wasn’t wrong. His long legs plowed through the budding foliage of the forest as easily as a hot knife through butter. Just as quickly, too. She’d bet she’d need to take three steps for one of his. Oh well, she might as well let him have at it.
Was it wrong she was enjoying the ride?
Bria rarely got the chance to feel so dainty and small. And this guy was a veritable giant. Good looking too. Bria was a fan of beauty. She loved attending museums and reading books. Especially those juicy fun romance novels she digested chapter by chapter.
Trench Tora was seriously beautiful. She took stock of all the tanned skin revealed at the low V of his shirt, the bulging biceps that strained the material, and the pecs and abs that protected her like a heated wall. His chiseled jaw, hard mouth, and gold eyes were stunning. The man could be a model.
He must have to fight them off with a stick, she mused and studied his face with an appreciative eye. She felt him slow down, that gorgeous face turning to her.
“Something wrong?” he asked, with one perfectly arched eyebrow raised inquisitively.
“Hmm? Why do you ask?”
“You’re staring,” he said, seemingly concerned.
“Am I? Sorry, you’re just really good looking,” she said, opting for honesty.
“What?” he asked, and she thought she heard a chuckle.
“You heard me,” she repeated, rolling her eyes. “Anyway,” Bria continued. Just cause he was handsome, didn’t mean she had to fan his ego. “Nothing is wrong. I just, well, I mean you told me your name, but I don’t know anything about you.”
“Um, well, aside from my good looks and impressive walking skills, you mean?” he joked.
“Oh, come on. I wasn’t that bad.”
“You were, but I appreciate it, Bria. Um, we’re here,” he said, breaking their previously prolonged eye contact.
He climbed a set of wooden steps that led to a narrow porch. Trench swallowed, allowing Bria to slide down his body till her feet touched the step. There was no ick factor at all.
In fact, he was disappointingly appropriate about the entire thing. Sigh. She lamented the wasted opportunity, giving him a small, somewhat embarrassed smile. Bria was, after all, heavy for a woman. But then, the man was not even breaking a sweat.
Curious.
“Let me get the door,” he murmured.
He slid past her carefully, probably so he didn’t knock her down. The staircase was narrow as well. She assumed the small patio just ended there, but curiosity had gotten the better of her, and she’d walked the few steps to the edge.
Mouth agape, Bria took in the rest of what was actually an immense wrap-around porch. From the front, the cabin was small and unassuming, but the back was positively luxurious. A wooden deck expanded a few dozen feet in every direction. It held a large firepit shaped like a roaring tiger’s mouth and beautiful Adirondack chairs.
Everything was lacquered to protect against the elements, but none of that red or brown paint. This was all clear coated, allowing for the beauty of the wood to shine through.
It was breathtaking. For one fanciful moment, Bria wondered how it would look in the snow. Or even better, in the middle of springtime with the promise of summer on the breeze. Bria would love to sit in one of those gorgeous chairs with an afghan over her legs and the morning sun shining down while she drank fresh brewed coffee from her favorite mug, an open book on her lap.
“You coming in?”
“What? Yes,” she replied, bringing herself back to reality.
She turned towards where the big man waited, just watching her with that unwavering stare. Bria didn’t know how long she’d been standing, simply staring, but his voice didn’t startle her. That meant he must have been there just as long. It was likely then that she’d been aware of his presence.
An intuitive person, she believed in signs. She depended on her inner alarm system, the one that set off warning bells inside of her, alerting her to times of danger.
Like when those goons had tried to pounce on her, and she knew instinctively that she had to scram. That trusty system of hers had stayed blissfully quiet with Trench near.
And wasn’t that interesting? There was just something about Trench Tora that made her feel safe. Foolish? Maybe. But she didn’t think so. Bria had always been a big believer in the innate goodness of people.
Also, there was that one other little quirk she’d inherited from her grandmother, besides the fat ass and her name. Of course, her mother and father were not too keen on it, but Bria was a stouthearted believer in her advanced female intuition.
Grandma had called it knowing. She’d told Bria that sometimes a Grotto woman simply knew things that no one else would or could. Maybe it was from just paying attention. Or maybe she was truly blessed by the saints, as Nonna seemed to think. Raised Catholic, she knew all about miracles and divine intervention.
Still, Bria was wise enough to know there were more things in the universe than a person could possibly imagine. She would be foolish to believe otherwise. But anyway, back to the matter at hand.
“Trench?”
“Yeah,” he replied, his unblinking gold stare kept her rooted to the spot.
“Would you come here a sec?”
“I’m right here, Bria.”
“I know, but would you mind,” she said, biting her lip.
It was presumptuous of her, but she placed her hands on either side of his gorgeous face and tugged him down to eye level. The fact that he went willingly was telling. His skin felt equally rough and smooth. How he managed that, she couldn’t hazard a guess. He was drop dead gorgeous though, devastatingly so this close.
Bria pushed everything else away. Removing herself from the very real awareness of her intense attraction to him, his ridiculously delicious scent, like candy apples and sunflowers, and the fact he was perhaps the most handsome man she’d ever seen let alone touched, Bria refocused.
“I’m here,” he said, closer now than before.
“Shhh,” she replied.
She inhaled a deep breath, taking in the scent of the woods and his own special fragrance with that gulp of breath. Concentrating solely on her knowing skills, Bria allowed the whole entire world to just fade away while she took him in.
“What are you doing?” he whispered.
“Making sure I can trust you,” she whispered back.
Trench Tora, she thought his name, saw it written out in fiery bold letters in her mind. The man was fierce, but she didn’t need any intuition to tell her that. Loyal? Yes.
There was darkness in him, but it was too small to consider a threat. He could be violent and lethal, but that was what made him a good protector. No, what she saw was his goodness. And that mattered the most.
Trench was good. Very, very good. Especially deep down inside where it counted the most. He was a good man. Strong, honest, dependable, and sweet. She saw his sweetness buried beneath the rest, as if he were hiding it from the world. And didn’t that make her want to dig it out? Yes. It really did.
“Okay,” she said, making her mind to stay put.
“Okay?”
“Yep,” she replied, moving past him to get inside the cabin.
“Bria? What the hell just happened?” Trench asked.
His voice was slightly louder, and he was seemingly confused. She watched the big man run a hand over his head and Bria noted the unusual colors. Having turned on the porch light when they’d arrived, she now saw he had hints of red in the predominantly brown locks. But stranger, were the thick black streaks throughout.
Somehow, it worked on him. Trench’s hair was thick and impossibly glossy. Her fingers itched to test its softness, and she wondered if he would let her.
Once again, she had to work to stay focused on the topic, though. Pushing away all inappropriate thoughts of touching the big man. He’d rescued her, and she didn’t think it wise to push her luck.
“Can’t you tell me what all that was?”
“Oh, you mean that thing I did a moment ago?” she asked.
“Yes,” he replied patiently. “That.”
“Like I said, I was just making sure you were trustworthy.”
“Trustworthy? And looking at my face told you I was?”
“Yep.”
“But you don’t know me.”
“Don’t have to know you to know you’re a good man,” she said easily.
“How can you possibly know I’m a good man from that?”
“Well, are you?” she asked, unwilling to share her little quirk just yet.
“I guess that depends on who you ask,” he answered.
She could tell it was as forthright a comment as she was going to get out of him. He was tense and deep in thought. Bria didn’t like that. Not one bit. So, she headed for the clearest path to be happy, and that was to be honest.
“Am I safe with you?” she stopped and asked him point blank.
“What?”
“Am. I. Safe.”
Bria believed in being frank and getting to the heart of things quickly. Life was too short for beating around the bush. She noticed a twitch at the corner of Trench’s straight mouth. Like he was fighting a grin. She had to admit that was something she’d love to see. Later maybe. When he trusted her a little bit more, then she’d make him collapse into bales of laughter.
“You are safer with me than anywhere else in the entire world, Bria Grotto,” Trench stated with absolute certainty.
“There,” she replied, nodding. “I told you.”
Then she walked inside his cabin, and her jaw hit the floor.
WOWZA.