Katee Robert - In Bed with Mr. Wrong

Her outraged gasp was music to his ears—especially since this time he was shutting the door on her . Petty as hell, but there was no denying the satisfaction he got from the action. This woman had come along and made judgments about his reasons for leaving town that were so far off base part of him wanted to dig out his accomplishments and throw them in her face to prove he wasn’t some worthless POS who ran away from his problems. Even if he had run from Wellingford ten years ago, the world didn’t begin and end in the little town in central Pennsylvania, no matter what she seemed to think.

The satisfaction at pissing her off faded as he trudged through the snow to the lean-to. There was some wood already chopped but the pile wouldn’t last more than a day or so. He reached for the first log and cursed. Another packet of condoms had been tucked into the top of the stack. He couldn’t figure out what Drew and Avery thought was going to happen in a lean-to in the middle of winter, but apparently they were optimistic.

He shook his head and got started. He needed the physical aspect of chopping wood to get his mind off the woman in the cabin behind him. She got under his skin in record time but, even annoyed as hell, he still wanted to shove her against the nearest wall and have his way with her.

How they could connect so well physically but barely stand each other mentally was a mystery to him. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to fight with her or fuck her until they both forgot their issues.

Which made him the biggest idiot of all.

The words blurred before Bri’s eyes no matter how much she tried to concentrate. She wished she could blame it on the fact that she was tired and hungry, but the source of her problems was the man currently hauling firewood into the cabin to build a fire.

Though he was easily six feet from her, she could barely draw a full breath. Smothered. That was the feeling putting pressure on her chest until her breasts ached with it. It must be.

Ryan stacked the wood and then grabbed paper from the pile next to the fireplace and stuffed it into the crack. “What the fuck?” Before she could ask him what the problem was, he reached farther into the fireplace and came back with a string of condoms. Her face flamed as he tossed them at her. “Someone thought we were going to be banging in some really weird places. There was some out in the firewood, too.”

“Lovely.” She toed them under the couch, wishing her mind hadn’t jumped to the ways they could utilize the newest batch of condoms—and the ones in the fruit basket.

He pulled out a lighter and lit the fire. Almost immediately, heat licked through the room, warming her when she hadn’t even realized she was chilled in the first place.

Before she could thank him or ask what he planned on doing next or any of the other words that sprang to her lips, he stood and moved to the kitchen. Maybe she should just stay silent. No one ever got into trouble by keeping their mouth closed.

She dropped her gaze back to her book, but the story held no more appeal than it had five minutes ago. With a sigh, she closed it in favor of looking around the room. The cabin really was cozy, the large windows giving a gorgeous view of the surrounding snow-covered trees that made her want to curl up with a flannel blanket and a cup of tea.

Except she wouldn’t be doing any relaxing with Ryan’s presence saturating the cabin.

He dumped a can of something into a pan and then grabbed a box out of the cupboard. As he started adding ingredients, she reluctantly climbed to her feet and went to investigate. There’s no other form of entertainment in this place. I might as well see what he’s up to . Her questionable logic firmly in place, she slipped onto the barstool across the island from him.

Bri stared at her fingernails, the dark-pink paint she’d put on for her blind date already starting to chip off. She wanted to make a smart comment, but nothing came to mind except how good he looked in that fitted white thermal shirt. It clung to his shoulders and biceps, highlighting them in a way that seemed designed to remind her of how his muscles felt under her fingers. So she went with a generic, “What are you doing?”

“You’re a smart girl. I’m sure you can figure it out.”

This was why she should have stayed on the couch. Every interaction they’d had fell to extremes—they either ended up fighting or throwing themselves at each other.

Not that she needed those particular memories at this moment. Bri took a tie off her wrist and pulled her hair up, mostly to give herself a moment before she went off on him. The extra five seconds didn’t help her temper any, but at least she wasn’t ready to throw something. “My friends are terrible people.”

Ryan glanced up from where he was dumping the mix into an eight-by-eight pan. “You’ve known them for a year and you’re just now figuring it out?”

“They haven’t exactly made a habit of stranding me in deserted cabins with strange men before now.”

“I hardly think I can be considered a ‘strange man’ since I’ve been inside you.”

She choked, air not quite making it to her lungs. “I can’t believe you just said that.” Even worse was her reaction to his words. Her nipples pebbled, rubbing almost painfully against her bra as she shifted, and her thighs clenched together, as if that would do anything to ease the unnameable feeling centering between them.

As she’d found over the last week, the only way to ease that feeling was to utilize her buzzy friend. It hadn’t helped that he seemed to know she’d been doing just that. He’d completely called her on it the day of Avery’s birthday party. Of course she’d pictured his face above her and his hands on her—he was the first man she’d been with in years. Her being borderline-obsessed with him was a perfectly natural response. She hoped. Because any experience she had from here on out would be compared to how things had been with him, and like it or not, he’d set a high bar.

Oh God, what if he really did ruin me?

Seeming oblivious to her mortification, he put the pan into the oven and then used a wooden spoon to stir the pot. “It’s just sex. What’s the harm in talking about it?”

When he put it like that, he made her sound like a frightened virgin. They needed to talk about something—anything—else. So she blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “I’m worried about my fish.”

Ryan frowned, his mouth twisting as if he wasn’t sure if she was joking or not. “Your fish?”

“Mr. Smith. What if he starves while I’m gone? I didn’t get a chance to feed him today.”

He rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand. “Bri, your fish isn’t going to starve.”

“How do you know that? I’ve never left him alone for this long.” What if he gets lonely? Sure, she’d put the mermaid statue in the tank with him, but a statue wasn’t going to check in on him or read to him. She managed to keep that last bit inside. There was no reason to give him more ammunition to make fun of her.

He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. “Fish are hardier than you give them credit for. Drew and I had a goldfish when we were kids. That thing went six years without being fed and it still managed to survive.”

“ Six years ?”

He shrugged. “We were kids. We left it bread crumbs when we remembered, but it wasn’t a regular thing.”

She should have been horrified at the neglect he’d just admitted to, but instead, she had to stifle a smile. “That’s terrible. That poor animal.”

“He had a good life. We took him on a few adventures, so he didn’t get bored.”