Justin dreamed of Emily, naked and exposed for his pleasure. In his dream, they didn’t stop at a kiss. He didn’t drop her off at home, walk her to her door, and leave like a gentleman. Instead, he invited himself in and stripped away all the layers between them, unsatisfied until they’d been wrapped around each other, writhing and sweaty.
Consequently, he had woken bathed in sweat and hard enough to hammer nails. He’d showered, fed his demanding felines—Richie McCat and Dan Catter—named for two of the best rugby players in the world, and headed outside to burn off his frustrated energy. He drove his four-wheeler up a hiking track to a hut and spent a solid two hours chopping and stacking firewood.
Unfortunately, the hard labor didn’t distract him from his Emily-related fantasies. Instead, his body fell into the familiar rhythm while his mind wandered, wondering what she looked like under her clothes, whether her skin was the same milky shade everywhere, and whether all of her hair was that magnificent shade of red.
As he swung the ax, hearing the thunk of steel into wood, he speculated over what noise she’d make when she came undone. Would she be shy and quiet, or tumble headlong into passion, her generous nature ensuring her lover knew how much she appreciated his effort? He suspected the latter, but desperately wanted to find out for himself. He wanted to hear mewls of arousal spill from her lips, feel her shiver as he touched her, and shudder beneath him as pleasure overwhelmed her.
Fuck, he needed to get himself under control.
With how painfully aroused he was simply at the thought of her, he’d never be able to make her drunk with ecstasy before he lost himself. He returned the ax to the shed and rested a palm on the doorframe, listening. No one was around. The group who’d been staying in the hut had moved on and the next group hadn’t arrived yet. Birds chirped in the trees and cicadas hummed in the background. The stream that flowed past the hut bubbled merrily as it made its way down the gentle slope.
He crossed over to the stream and followed it for a hundred yards to where it formed a small pool, not very wide, but deep enough to reach his shoulders. Stripping his clothes off, he laid them on a rock and waded in. The frigid water lapped at his calves. He could have sworn his balls shriveled up as the stream inched up his inner thighs, but he carried on, swearing as it rippled over his sensitive abdomen, the muscles contracting in an attempt to fend off the cold.
He’d known the water would be icy. The stream was formed by glacier melt and stayed much the same temperature year-round, regardless of the warm summer air. He gritted his teeth and ducked beneath the surface. As soon as he fully submerged, he shot back out again and laughed, despite his tingling limbs. The stream had cooled his ardor as effectively as he’d hoped. No hard-on could survive such conditions. The dunk in the pool had also rinsed off the sweat that had accumulated on his skin while he’d worked.
Wading out of the pool, he shook off the excess water and squeezed it out of his hair. He yanked his clothes back on and moisture soaked them instantly, but they’d soon dry out on a day as fine as this one. Before leaving the hut, he checked that the recent visitors had tidied, left payment for using the facilities, and signed the logbook to say where they were going next. Satisfied, he climbed back on his motorcycle and returned home.
Usually, he’d visit another hut, or start a circuit of the traps laid out around the reserve to catch pests—most commonly stoats, which preyed on native birds—but he couldn’t focus on anything other than the phenomenal kiss he’d shared with Emily the night before. For months, he’d been attracted to her, but he’d written it off as hopeless infatuation since she’d never showed any sign of returning the attraction. After that kiss, he was confident she felt at least some of the chemistry he did. A kiss like that didn’t result from one-sided attraction.
The trouble was, he had zero game. He was a thirty-one-year-old man with minimal dating experience, having been with the same woman since high school. A woman who, incidentally, left him two weeks before their wedding.
What a catch.
But his skills, or lack thereof, didn’t matter. There was no need for games. Emily had indicated that she wanted to see him again, so he’d be direct about it. Then she’d be under no illusions that he was capable of grand romantic gestures, and he wouldn’t set her up for disappointment in the future. No point putting it off. He’d go to her immediately.
Except… Lifting his arm, he sniffed. A sour odor singed his nose hairs. Okay, he’d change clothes first. He may not know much about dating, but no woman wanted a man who could strip paint with his body odor.
Fifteen minutes later, having showered, deodorized and dressed in a freshly laundered khaki button-down shirt and cargo pants, he drove his old pickup truck into town. Since it was peak tourist season, and Emily’s shop was one of the most popular in town, he couldn’t find a parking spot nearby, so he settled for parking outside his sister’s house and walking into the town center.
Itirangi was bustling, with people crowded outside the bakehouse and Dux restaurant. Others had set up picnics along the shore of the lake, a beautiful blue body of water that stretched towards the mountains on the horizon and was fringed by forest. The lake gave the town its name—Little Sky, in the native Maori tongue.
The number of people around made Justin tense. He preferred Itirangi in the quieter spring and autumn seasons, when there wasn’t enough snow on the mountains for the skiing crowd, but it was still too cold for the summer crowd. But the glorious day reminded him of why he loved his home. God, it was beautiful. He’d never lived anywhere else, and he’d never want to. Itirangi was it for him. From the glorious outdoors to the quirky old buildings and peculiar small-town personalities, he adored it all.
Well, almost all of it. He could do without the gossip. It had been ruthless after he and Chloe had broken up. Everywhere he went, people had stopped to stare or express their sympathy with a glint in their eye that let him know him they’d be telling the next person they saw all about poor Jilted Justin. Yeah, he’d heard the nickname. Whispered as he entered a room, murmured behind hands when he turned away. He could admit public sympathy seemed to be on his side, but that didn’t make being the subject of gossip any more palatable.
Emily’s shop, Pretty Things, looked like her: sweet and feminine. Although he had only been inside a handful of times, he’d noticed how it reflected its owner perfectly. Excitement fluttered in his stomach when the street sign came into view. He couldn’t believe how badly he wanted to see her again, to confirm that last night really had happened, and that she was just as wonderful as he’d imagined.
When he stepped into the shop, he noticed three things:
- It was crammed full of women;
- They all turned to stare at him as the doorbell chimed; and
- Emily was exactly as gorgeous as he’d remembered.
Emily hummed under her breath as she worked on New Year’s morning, which was traditionally a busy day for her, being a public holiday. Tourists and locals alike flocked to Main Street and started the year by exploring beautiful Itirangi and all of its temptations. Luckily, her employee Sandra had prepared well yesterday, so the shelves were well stocked, a few popular items discounted, and both of them could spend their time with customers. The doorbell jangled constantly, and each time, Emily glanced up from whatever she was doing and greeted the customer with a smile and a friendly ‘hello’.
The busy shop kept her from daydreaming about kissing Justin, which had lived up to her wildest fantasies. So when the bell rang, and she looked up with a smile only to see his bulky frame blocking her doorway, heat spiked her blood and her she forgot whatever she’d been about to say. He came to a sudden stop, eyes widening with something akin to fear at the sight of twenty or so women perusing the store.
Many of the women stopped and ogled him in return. She couldn’t blame them. The soft khaki shirt he wore emphasized his thick torso and muscled arms, and his cargo pants displayed tree-trunk thighs. Emily’s mouth watered. The beard and wild hair completed the ‘sexy outdoorsman’ image. He looked ready to throw a woman over his shoulder and carry her off to a rustic cabin in the woods. More than one of her customers fanned themselves.
Justin’s eyes widened, the white becoming visible. Emily giggled, then clapped a hand over her mouth. The sharp noise seemed to jolt him into motion. His gaze fixed on her and he shouldered through the throng of women. Without a word, he took her hand and dragged her through the rear exit into her workshop. A laugh died on her lips when he pinned her to the wall, and she felt the delicious press of those muscles she’d admired from a distance.
His eyes searched hers, then his mouth curled upwards in a self-satisfied smile. “Not laughing now, are you?”
She shook her head, unable to speak.
“Good.”
He crushed his lips to hers, and all she could do was cling to him and pray he never stopped. Sparks crackled between them and she grabbed fistfuls of his damp hair. White-hot flashes of pleasure flickered across her vision and she closed her eyes, savoring the taste of him in the darkness. Spicy and very, very male.
He yanked free of her, chest heaving as his breath came in puffs. “I like you, Emily.”
She couldn’t help it. She giggled.
He frowned in confusion. “What’s so funny?”
“I’ve been waiting fifteen years for you to say that.” And she’d thought it would never be more than her favorite fantasy.
He blinked at her, as if gathering his thoughts. “You have?”
“You didn’t know?” She’d tried to keep her hero worship private, but few things remained secret in Itirangi.
The poor man looked utterly baffled. “Know what?”
Apparently, she’d been a better actress than she’d thought. “I’ve had a crush on you since I was fourteen,” she admitted, watching the play of emotion across his face. “Chloe was picking on me and you told her to stop being a bitch and leave me alone. This was back before you started dating her.”
She could see the moment he remembered.
“She was making fun of your hair,” he said.
“And my weight, and my freckles,” Emily added. “I was an easy target. I didn’t fight back. But you stood up for me.”
“And you’ve been in love with me ever since.”
“Hey now, I didn’t say that! I had a crush, that was all.”
He smiled smugly despite her protestation. “You can deny it all you like, but you want me, Em.”
She didn’t deny it again. To tell the truth, she enjoyed being responsible for the supremely confident masculine expression he wore, especially after he’d admitted to doubting himself yesterday.
“I do.”
He lowered his head to kiss her again. Light and flirty at first, so she could feel him smile against her mouth, but it deepened as she rose on her toes and arched up. She purred contentedly as one of his hands curved around her neck, caressing the hollow of her throat.
She could kiss him like this forever. Forget the customers on the other side of the door. They could make do without her. This was far more important. But as the devil on her shoulder was convincing her to slip out the back and take Justin home with her, someone barged into the workshop and rudely interrupted the best kiss of her life.
“What is it?” Emily demanded breathlessly.
“Sorry, Em,” Sandra said from somewhere off to the side. “We need you back out here. I can’t keep up with all of these customers.”
Burying her face in Justin’s chest, Emily sighed. “Okay,” she replied, reminding herself that Sandra wasn’t personally responsible for her sexual frustration. “I’ll be there shortly.”
The door clicked shut again. Justin’s lips trailed fire down her neck. “I wish you could tell them to go to hell.”
She moaned. “So do I.”
She pushed his big chest. He moved back, nipping at the crook of her shoulder. His teeth sank into her flesh and scraped gently. The contrast between roughness and tenderness set her pulse racing, and moisture rushed to her core. She’d always craved that hard edge with her pleasure, but she’d never known how to ask for it. Justin seemed to know and instinctively give her what she needed. As if he was made for her. She shivered. If he’d kissed her back when she was fourteen, her crush would have been taken to a whole new level.
“Have dinner at my place tonight,” he murmured against her skin. “Please?”
“Yes,” she sighed as he licked over the spot he’d bitten, soothing the sting. “What time?”
“Seven o’clock,” he replied, stepping back, holding her waist so she didn’t fall. Her weak knees would have buckled beneath her weight. Once she was able to stand, he kissed her cheek and said, “See you later, Em.”
She waited until he left, then sagged to the ground.
“Oh, my God,” she said to herself.