Page 9 of Tempting Wyatt
My gaze lands on her off-the-shoulder black sweater, then moves up to where she shields her eyes from the setting sun.
Filthy fantasies attempt to assault my mind, which pisses me off. Who sent this demonic creature of temptation here, and why? Maybe I’m dehydrated, passed out in the pasture, and hallucinating.
Let’s hope.
I don’t have time for whatever this is.
I’m betting my silence and stature have intimidated her into not speaking. Her eyes grow wider with every step I take in her direction. Her delicate throat moves as she swallowswithout breaking eye contact. When I’m close enough to touch her, I palm the axe just below the head and cross my arms.
“You lost?”
CHAPTER FIVE
ivy
MY LUCK LATELY IS TRULY SOMETHING. Just when I think I’ve found some peace in the most beautiful place on the planet, an angry-looking mountain man, with the black beard of a pirate covering half his handsome face, approaches me with an axe.
An actual honest-to-God axe. As in the kind axe-murderersprobably carry.
A dark triangular tattoo on his inner forearm almost distracts me from the weapon he holds. Looks like the brand for the ranch that matches the one I saw on the sign when I drove in through the gate.
So much for not getting murdered.
My heart leaps into my throat, and I’m tongue-tied as he bares his chiseled abs by using the bottom of his shirt to wipe sweat from his brow.
Swallowing and breathing are a struggle as I grab my bag from the seat and then lift one hand to wave and block the sun from my eyes. It shines from behind him as if he were an angel, but as he grows closer, I know only the Devil creates men who look like this.
This man was carved from wood and brought to life with some kind of sex-fairy magic that’s wreaking havoc on my ovaries and my brain.
I’m off men after Malcolm—a decision I made on the drive. But damn if I don’t want to climb this one like a tree.
The fact that he looks like he wants to crush my bones to make his bread is doing very little to slow the heat unfurling inside me. I may be fine with it if he drags me into the woods to have his way with me first.
Lust. This is simply lust. Just a more powerful version than I’ve ever experienced in my twenty-six years.
Testosterone radiates from the creature before me, rolling off him and crashing into me like a tidal wave. If I stand here much longer, I’m fairly certain I’ll get pregnant. IUD be damned.
From the frown on his face, he’s no more excited about my presence than I would be to learn there were termites in my cabin.
He stops just inches out of touching distance. Then stares intently and arches a brow. “You lost?”
The gravity of his voice threatens to pull me under. It takes me a minute to process his question.
“Um, hi. No. I mean, I don’t think I’m lost. I’m Ivy,” I say with all the breath I can manage to shove from my lungs. “Anderson,” I add even though he looks like he couldn’t care less.
When I reach my hand out to shake his, it only causes his frown to deepen and his brows to dip farther inward.
“From the bank?” he asks with a tilt of his head, ignoring my outstretched hand completely.
Even his voice rumbles through my body like thunder. Jesus. Who is this guy, and where is the sweet lady from the picture?
My luck, it was a decoy to lure unsuspecting tourists to their gruesome death.
“From Los Angeles,” I say slowly, clearing my throat and lowering my hand, feeling like an idiot for leaving it hanging between us for so long.
His anger morphs gradually into confusion as his eyes roam over me.
“Los Angeles,” he repeats slowly, as if I’d said planet Neptune instead.
