I stood there motionless, unable to take a step closer, yet I couldn’t turn and walk out, either. As if he sensed me, he stopped abruptly and spun around. His wild stare crashed with mine, and I sucked in a breath. Every ripped muscle, vein, and tendon bulged. He’d obviously tugged off his shirt when he’d walked in, because now his chest was bare and glistened with sweat. He was breathing heavily, fists still clenched tightly.
“Miss Abigail?” he said through panted breaths.
Despite that wild stare and the way his body throbbed with aggression, when he spoke, none of it came through. His cheeks were dark from exertion, mouth slightly parted as each heavy breath pumped from his lungs, struggling to maintain control, but still he hadn’t directed any of that anger at me.
I managed to unglue my feet and started toward him. He seemed to brace himself as I moved closer, hands on hips, back and shoulders stiff. When I stopped in front of him, instead of his direct stare, he aimed his eyes at the ground. “Eli?” He didn’t move, didn’t speak. Reaching out, I touched his arm. “Elijah?”
He jolted, muscles tightening under my fingers. God, I felt tiny standing this close to him. He finally answered, voice low, “Ma’am.”
My nipples tightened painfully. He didn’t pull away. “I just…I wanted to thank you for what you did back there.”
His head was still down, not allowing me to see those dark eyes. Without thought, I reached up, threading my fingers in his hair, and tipped his head back. My only thought had been to get those eyes on me again. I needed them on me.
My belly dipped and swirled at the rough sound that tore from his throat. I was about to pull away, to apologize, but he tilted his head, pressing more firmly against my palm, moving the tiniest bit closer. Finally, he raised his chin, thick lashes lifting, and I had them. My body zapped, sparked, breath escaping in a rush, heat curling and growing like a wildfire was spreading over my skin.
“You like my hands on you?” I whispered before I could think better of it.
His breathing had grown ragged, a softness, a vulnerability in his eyes that made me want to give him everything I didn’t think he’d allow himself to ask for. His gaze darted to my bare shoulder, where Kyle had yanked my shirt down, and his wide chest expanded with his sharp inhalation. He didn’t like the reminder of what happened, of Kyle touching me that way.
“Do you want to touch me, Eli?” I could barely believe the words that just came out of my mouth, but I didn’t want to take them back, I wanted those massive hands on me, had wanted them on me for the longest time.
The tip of his tongue darted out, sliding across his bottom lip, then his head dipped, just a fraction.
“You do, don’t you?”
He stared down at me, his large frame, thick with muscle, towering over me, looking like he could pick up that tractor beside us and fling it halfway across the field, which made the almost innocent curiosity, the restrained excitement he was currently aiming my way all the more surprising.
“Yes,” he rasped, cheeks darkening further.
He made no move to touch me, though, kept his arms at his sides, fingers curled in loose fists, bracing for I didn’t know what. I reached down, taking one of his hands in mine, lifting it slowly. The skin was as rough as I remembered and hot, so damn hot. He smelled of clean sweat, the outdoors, the soap he used. The combination was incredibly sexy. I uncurled his fingers and rested his hand just above my heart. My top was low cut, so we were skin to skin, and my body went up in flames from that simple touch.
I watched him, gauging his reaction. His eyes were locked on his fingers. His hands were scarred with cracks and gouges, dark and stained, as clean as they ever got. The contrast against my lighter, smooth, unblemished skin was startling—exciting.
“Is this what you want?” I asked softly.
He dipped his head again, fingers flexing slightly, stare intent, scorching.
“More?”
“Yes…please.”
Oh God, the way he said it, deep, rough… I jammed my legs together, the throb between my thighs making me reckless, making me do things, say things I might not usually. But here in the barn, so quiet and still, it was just us and this moment. I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to.
Wrapping my fingers around his thick wrist, the coarse hairs tickling my skin, I lowered his hand slowly, until his palm grazed the swell of my breast. “You ever touched a woman here, Eli?”
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, jaw tightening, then shook his head.
I could barely believe it. No, he didn’t talk much, kept to himself, but he was smart, gorgeous, and a harder worker I’d never met. “Why not?”