Leaning against the fridge opposite the mudroom, he stood in the dim glow of the stove light. Wearing black athletic pants, legs crossed at the ankles, arms folded across his bare chest, he studied her with a calm, unreadable expression. She swallowed hard and dropped her eyes. Jesus, even his bare feet were intimidating.
Who knew how long he'd been standing there, watching her? She'd been so caught up in her pity party he could've been there the whole time.
He didn't move or speak, his stillness thick enough to strangle the air. What if he made her leave?
That was when she felt it, deep inside, breaking free. Her missing backbone. It straightened her back and invigorated her with a thrilling rush of strength. If he didn't want her, he could...he could go climb a wall of stretched-out vaginas.
She met his eyes. Pale, piercing eyes that told her he knew her next four steps before she did. With her eyes, she said, Bet you didn't see this one coming.
She rose—gracefully and steadily, despite the burning in her legs—and walked to him. The proximity forced her to look up to hold his gaze. Arms relaxed at her sides, posture strong and proud, she smiled without force or agenda. She smiled because it felt right. “I've decided to stay.”
“Uh huh.” The corner of his mouth ticked up. “Too scary out there?”
She glanced over her shoulder, acknowledging the door, and looked back at him. “Well, there's that. And while I could continue to fight through it and maybe someday make it beyond the porch, I've lost interest in escaping.” She put the strength of her backbone in her voice so he would hear her earnestness in the most absurd, childish, fucked-up reason ever. “Because I like you, too.”
Van had perfected the pose of lazy nonchalance years ago, but as he leaned against the fridge, he embraced it for no other reason than fucking exhaustion. Of course, Amber would pit her fear of him against the agoraphobia. But the first night? Good thing he'd wound her hair around his fingers like little trip wires.
No one could say she wasn't tenacious, especially considering her willingness to risk another panic attack so soon after the last one. No sweat off his balls, though. He'd been too curious to stop her. Besides, it moved her a step closer toward acceptance of her new life.
So he'd followed her down the stairs, blending into the shadowed corners of the cabin as she fought her demons in the bathroom and kitchen. When she'd opened the silverware drawer, he'd been ready to stop whatever cleaning fest she might've been envisioning. Honestly, his cabin could use a good scrub, but not at the expense of the OCD thing. He wanted to shake up the disorder, not enable it.
Big brown eyes glared up at him, her expression expectant, and challenge evident in the lift of her chin. Damn, she was willful and tireless. He was a year younger than she was, yet her energy ran circles around him. Apparently, he needed to workout more.
Judging by the fists that now moved to her hips, she was waiting for him to respond to her announcement. Impatient little twit. He'd already picked through her words, not only what she'd said but how she said it.
I've lost interest in escaping.
The steady resolve in her voice and her unwavering eye contact had been convincing. But her revelation wouldn't keep her from going outside. He'd make sure of that.
Because I like you, too.
Five easy words, but the promise they imparted filled him with fierce belonging. And an uncomfortable amount of sentimentality. He rubbed the back of his neck. He needed sleep. They both did.
“How about you like me upstairs...while we sleep.” He added that last part to make his intentions clear. Though he could be up for something else with a little coaxing.
She smiled, and the illumination of her eyes flooded the kitchen with light. “Yeah, okay. I'm beat.” Her voice hardened on the last syllable, asserting her disapproval of his heavy hand.
Bring it, baby. Fuck, he looked forward to her fight. After a good night's rest.
He let her lead up the spiraled stairs because really, how could he refuse an opportunity to be eye-level with her backside? And fuck him gently with a two-by-four, she flexed that ass with the grace of the gods. The sight of her round cheeks straining the fabric of her dress would chase his dreams for an eternity.
Then he remembered he hadn't packed any of her panties. Christ, she was too damned tempting. Halfway through the climb, he shoved the dress up to her waist, found two unmarred spots of supple flesh, and pinched the hell out of them with both hands.
Her shriek echoed through the cabin. “Hands off my ass!” She reached back, wriggling to his delight, her fingers curling around his wrists. “I mean it.”
He released her, chuckling. “Darling, my hands and your ass are meant to be together. Don't fuck with destiny.”
She sighed, adjusting the dress, but he didn't miss the smile dimpling her face.
“You're insufferable.” She shook her head, then flew up the remaining steps, and vanished into the loft, leaving him standing there grinning like a fool. A deliriously happy fool.