My breasts, large and rosy, are on full display with the sheets and comforter at my hips and that’s exactly what the huge man sees when he walks into the room and stops in his tracks, his black eyes going to my nipples.
I shouldn’t feel anything beyond fear and shock. I should pull the sheet up. I absolutely cannot be feeling arousal when I look at the man who’s entered the room and watch him staring at my naked chest.
“Oh, God!” I gasp, grabbing the sheet to cover myself and scrambling back to the headboard.
Fear lances me, deep and thick, but in that turmoil, there’s an attraction too. Want. Comfort. This can’t be right, can it? Who is he? Why am I—
“The car,” I whisper, a flash of memory returning to remind me of a car and a backseat covered in blood.
“You’re okay,” the man says, his voice the same deep rasp of a growl that I remember.
It sends shivers down my spine and makes something within me melt even though I know I shouldn’t be melting. I should be terrified right now. I’m naked, in a strange place and there’s a stranger staring at me with hard black eyes that I should fear.
“I…how did I get here? Who are you? Please don’t hurt me,” I croak, my lip trembling until he gapes at me, horrified, and rushes over to lower the tray he’s holding to the foot of the bed.
“Never! I would never hurt you,” he chokes out, sounding so horrified and panicked that I go still and look him over, actually taking him in.
I suddenly understand the attraction that confused me and something feminine within me pulses as I look him over and take my fill. He’s big, huge. At least six and a half feet tall with black eyes, dark hair, and a beard so thick it hangs down to his chest. Beneath that is a body so hard even the thick black sweater he’s wearing can’t hide the ridges and muscle. Two thighs, thick as tree stumps taper down to feet that are bare and surprisingly adorable—
“I wouldn’t hurt you, Becks,” the man says softly, bringing my head up sharply.
“How do you know my name?” I whisper, my heart pounding until he sighs and looks away.
“I met you in town a while back. At the fair,” he mutters and when I think it over, I gasp.
“You? Oh my God, I remember you,” I say softly, my nerves easing because I sort of do.
I was so busy that day I barely recall who bought goods from Trisha’s Goodie table. In fact, I didn’t even look up for half the day until I spied the tray with my brownies and realized it was empty. That surprised the hell out of me because everyone in town knows I can’t bake for shit. I didn’t even realize I’d sold those things until Trisha laughed and told me about the huge stranger who’d bought the entire tray.
“You bought my awful brownies,” I groan, embarrassment flushing my cheeks.
“Best things I’ve ever tasted,” he growls, sounding pissed that I’d insult my baking.
“You’re probably nuts,” I snort, chuckling when he frowns and doesn’t respond. “I’m Becks.”
“Zack,” my stranger growls, his eyes going to the hand I hold out before he lifts one huge hand and gently takes mine, being so careful I feel myself ease even more. “I found you in the storm.”
“You did?” I ask, chewing on my lip and wondering what happened. “I’m sorry but I don’t remember a lot. I uh, sort of panicked. Storms scare the heck out of me.” I explain, though at this moment I’m barely aware of the storm.
The howling outside is fierce, but I feel no terror at all. Strange. I’ve never been any good with this kind of thing and in my senior year, I wet myself in the middle of class when a storm broke out.
“No need to be afraid, angel. You’re safe in here, with me,” Zack says softly and for some reason, I believe that.
What I can recall are snippets of riding my bike and trying to escape the downpour. I vaguely recall falling and then a small moment of clarity in a car.
“I, thank you,” I whisper, swallowing loudly when he rises and I look directly at his crotch.
Oh God, don’t look there, Becks!
But it’s too late. My eyes won’t move and my mouth is suddenly dry as bone when Zack leans down to grab the tray and slide it onto my lap.
“Why am I naked?” I ask, needing to distract myself before I make an utter fool of myself in front of this man.
He’s more than gorgeous and with my lack of experience, I’m bound to do or say something that will humiliate me.
“I needed to warm you up. You were shivering bad, angel. I couldn’t let you keep hurting,” he grumbles, unable to meet my eyes while he points at the tray. I think to myself, did he call me angel? Sounds so strange yet so natural.
My stomach growls when I look down to see a bowl of stew and crusty bread, steaming hot and dripping with sweet butter. I know the scent immediately and when my stomach gives another loud snarl, I moan and pick up my spoon.