She jerked her hand away then took two steps backward, nearly colliding with her suitcase as she folded her arms across her breasts. “Thanks.”
“If I’d known that getting eye-fucked was going to be my thank you, I would have come to your rescue a lot sooner.”
Her eyes narrowed while he fluidly moved past her into what she assumed was a bathroom.
Before shutting the door he turned and barked, “Take the master.”
Chapter Fourteen
Take the master”. Could he be more of a dick? What the hell was wrong with him, ordering her around like she was a servant?
Damn it.
All he’d wanted was to be away from her—her and the memories of this once happy home.
And then she’d gone and touched him, and all his wants—every single one of them—had suddenly shifted into dangerous territory, one he knew wouldn’t be fair to either of them.
He would be auctioned off to the highest bidder in a few weeks.
He was basically in a committed relationship.
With a complete stranger he hadn’t even met yet.
And lusting after another.
He swore as his mind rewound images of her pert breasts, rosy peaks straining behind nearly sheer lace, and her rain-slickened skin. He’d wanted to run his tongue down the side of her neck. Just a taste, just one, maybe two, three. Hell, he’d been five seconds away from tugging her onto the bed and helping her out of the rest of her clothes.
He cursed as his body tightened painfully, and then he flipped the hot water to the frigid cold he needed to get himself under control.
These were going to be his last few weeks of peace before his grandfather decided yet another element of his future.
He wasn’t going to waste them wanting something he couldn’t have.
If there was anything he’d learned in his life, it was that the minute you got something you wanted, or cared for, it hurt that much more when it was ripped out of your hands.
He knew that firsthand.
Because everything he’d ever cared about had been taken from him in this very house.
The master bedroom.
He hadn’t set foot in that room since his parents’ deaths.
His grandfather had preferred a smaller room—leaving the larger to his parents—and God, it felt like their ghosts were still there.
If he had it his way, he’d re-do the entire west wing of the house and bulldoze the shit out of the walls in an effort to get rid of the memories.
Sighing, he grabbed one of the towels and dried off, then quickly dressed. Maybe being here was a good thing. Maybe he could battle his demons once and for all.
*
Somehow he managed to make it out of the shower without jacking off to the vision of a shirtless Jane.
“Fuck.” He pulled a clean T-shirt over his head and ran his fingers through his hair. So she was going to be cleaning the house; it wasn’t like he would see her every second of every day.
And it wasn’t even that dirty—his grandfather scarcely used it.
Maybe she would finish early?
Besides, she was an employee.
Which meant she would be making herself scarce.
That was what he should want.
He slammed his fists against the bathroom counter and glared at his reflection in the mirror. A man of thirty-five stared back at him, but he didn’t see the man. He saw the exterior, the shell, but on the inside, he knew what he felt like.
What this fucking house made him feel like.
A lonely boy.
A terrified lonely boy whose only plan in life was to please everyone but himself.
With a growl he ran his hands over his face. Amazing that all it had taken was walking in the door, and his emotions were all over the place.
Jane’s presence wouldn’t help matters either.
Having her clean things, rifle through his family’s stuff—it wasn’t just uncomfortable, it was—well he wasn’t sure what it was, but he didn’t like it.
With a sigh, he picked up his phone and called his grandfather.
Of course, the old man answered on the first ring.
“Brock! I take it you’ve made it? How’s the ass?”
Brock paused, then rolled his eyes. “I haven’t had the opportunity to greet the animals.”
“A shame.”
“Yes,” he said in a dry voice. “My thoughts exactly. Then again I’ve been a bit distracted. You wouldn’t know anything about that, now would you?”
“Hmm?”
“Grandfather—”
“Don’t take that tone with me. I taught you that tone, boy,” Grandfather grumbled. “She’s only there helping air out the property and clean the rooms, unless you’d rather tend to those things while you’re there?”
“It hardly needs a deep clean.”
“Of course it does, especially after the chickens got loose in the hall.”
Brock frowned. “Since when did the chickens get loose?”
“New Years’.” Grandfather chuckled. “To be fair, we weren’t actually betting on the cocks, but you know how parties tend to get out of control.”
Hunh?