“Yes.” Instead of giving it to her, Mitchell delved under the blanket, and the shirt and placed the cold compress against her ribcage where she was the sorest. “How’s that?” he asked, stepping back and flipping the covers back up.
“Freakin’ cold, how do you think it is?” She sounded bitchy but damn, it was cold.
“Be careful, pet, or you won’t like the way I warm you up.”
She gritted her teeth at the nickname. “Is that a threat? I thought I could trust you?”
“I don’t threaten, just warn. Remember that and we’ll get along fine. I also don’t hit, but I do have ways to punish a woman you wouldn’t care for.”
He turned from her but she wasn’t about to let that go. Burying deeper into the comfortable bed, she whispered on a tired sigh, “What do you mean, women like me?”
Mitchell settled in the recliner and pulled a book out of the side pocket, flicking her a look of exasperation. “Never mind. Go to sleep, Lillian.”
Her eyes drifted closed of their own accord, rousing sometime later from the loud crackle of logs added to the fire. The ice pack was no longer nestled under the shirt, its removal without her waking proving how deeply she’d slept but not for how long. The room was dark except for the glow from the fire where her eyes focused as soon as she lifted her lids. In appreciative silence, she gazed upon Mitchell’s bare back as he bent to remove his jeans. It didn’t surprise her to see he went commando, or to note his lean muscled body was as pleasurable to look at as she’d imagined. Those broad shoulders tapered to a narrow waist and taut buttocks topped his long, muscled legs.
He turned, lifting an inquisitive brow at catching her staring. “You must not be as out of it as I’d thought.”
“I’ve sworn off men but I’m not dead, at least I don’t think so.” If he wasn’t going to act prudish then neither would she, but holy moly, the man had an impressive package and build.
“No, you’re not,” he replied, strolling around to the other side with complete disregard for his nudity. “Go back to sleep. I won’t bother you.”
Bummer. Lillian drifted back to sleep as the bed dipped with his weight, a giggle lodged in her throat from that one-word, wayward thought.
She slept through the snowstorm as it raged into a full-blown blizzard, the snow piling up past the one window over the next few hours. She didn’t wake up when Mitchell did, or when he dressed and started bacon sizzling on the stove. His conversation with the sheriff via his satellite phone went unheard, the coffee aroma didn’t tickle her sense of smell. It wasn’t until mid-morning when her body’s demand for the restroom won out over some explicit dreams that she rolled out from her warm cocoon, shivering from head to toe as her bare feet hit the wood floor.
Blinking to clear her sleepy vision, the first thing to come into focus was Mitchell sitting at the table appearing content and well-rested as he finished off the last bite of scrambled eggs. With the images of her writhing under the forceful plunges of his thrusting body still playing through her head, Lillian found herself resenting his probing once-over out of eyes mostly green this morning with the yellow glow of the fire haloing his head. She had zip-zero interest in men before Liana collapsed in a coma six weeks ago, and even less than that, if possible, by the time she left Brad’s house without looking back. Her appreciation of the doctor’s rescue, hospitality and physical attributes she understood, but not her mind and body betraying her with those dreams that stirred up her libido.
“Good morning. You slept well, so why the scowl?” Mitchell stood and picked up his plate, carrying it over to the sink.
“Maybe I’m not a morning person. Excuse me.” She walked into the bathroom where she washed up and dressed. A shower could wait until later. Right now it was more important to shield her body from the appreciative glance he’d given her bare legs and to get herself under control. It’s the circumstances that have thrown us together in close proximity and my stress, that’s all this is, she insisted before opening the door to see him setting a plate piled with eggs and bacon on the table. Feeling irritable, she grumbled, “I’m not hungry. You eat it.”
With a sigh, he stalked around the table and peered down at her with a frown. “You need fuel to heal. Quit being so stubborn.” Of course her stomach took that moment to rumble in hunger. A taunting smile appeared as he cocked his head. “It seems I know your body’s needs better than you, baby.”
Lillian reacted without thinking, hearing him call her baby igniting her temper with the flashback of Brad’s sneering voice. Lifting her arm, she swung only to have him halt her slap before her palm connected with his face. He gripped her wrist, his hold loose but unbreakable. his eyes going to narrowed slits and boring into hers. She sucked in a trembling breath, shaken by the force of her anger.
“You really do have a deep-rooted aversion to affectionate nicknames, don’t you?” he murmured.
“Especially that one,” she returned without thinking, the information revealing in its simplicity.
He held her in his penetrating perusal and light grip for several seconds before releasing her from both with a short nod. “Understood. Sit down and eat before it gets cold.”
Mitchell waited until Lillian complied, sat down and picked up her fork before turning his back on her. He had seen the second the word ‘baby’ triggered something inside her, her reaction as volatile as his thoughts. The urge to poke at her for more information about this guy and the circumstances responsible for her landing here was as strong as the desire to hunt him down and exact retribution for her. The intensity of his need to do those two things bothered him. Not since his wife, Abbie had been diagnosed with stage four cancer had he experienced such a profound desire to right the wrong done to a woman. He didn’t even know Lillian, not like he had Abbie, or the submissive members of The Barn, the private BDSM club he’d joined eight months ago, shortly after arriving in Willow Springs. With any of them, he could indulge in a long spank-session over his knees to get the answers he wanted and then reward them with a climax when they quit holding back.
Stoking the fire, a warm curl of remembered fondness spread around his chest as the memory of Abbie coming to stand before him with a shy smile popped up. Spanking for discipline or to get answers was sometimes necessary, but nothing beat the pleasure of watching your sub approach you with need of your hard hand connecting with their bare flesh reflected on their face. It hadn’t taken long to convince Abbie not to wait for his order if she yearned for the release his butt-reddening smacks could give her and he had loved watching as she would pull down her pants and drape herself over his lap without words.
Swiveling his head, he watched Lillian eat with her brows dipped in a frown. This woman didn’t possess a submissive bone in her slender body, that he could detect anyway. It wouldn’t do to fantasize about pulling answers from her the old-fashioned way. The storm had abated early this morning and street crews would head out later today and into tomorrow. After assuring Grayson they were both fine, the sheriff put digging out her car as low priority and would let him know when they could get to it in a day or two. After that, he and his attractive but annoying houseguest would go their separate ways and the concerns he harbored for her would go away as fast as she’d interrupted his solitude.