Big Man’s Claim Wylder, Penny (you can read anyone .TXT) 📖

Lifting my head, I listen. It sounds like someone is at my door, but that can't be right. No one comes here. People know better. Even over the past week, the few people I normally exchange a few words with were met with frustrated grunts.

I haven't been in the mood for anything. Especially having a conversation. I don't like talking to people on a normal day, but I play nice, I give the forced smile and casual niceties so people don't see me as a total asshole.

They still see me as something. I've heard what they think of me.

But I have to sell my art. Luckily, the internet has made it a whole lot easier for me. I can sell more without having to even see the client face to face.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Growling, I yell, “I'm coming, hold the fuck on!” With reluctant steps, I head down the stairs to the front door.

I swear, if this someone trying to sell me a damn vacuum, I'm going to slam my door in their face.

Yanking the door open, I snap, “What?”

My jaw drops and my eyes widen as the shock hits me.

“Is this a bad time?”

She's here. I'm tempted to pinch myself, but instead I rub my eyes.

“Melody?”

“I'm sorry. If this is a bad time, I'll leave.”

I'm almost speechless. She's the last person I'd expect to see on my doorstep. “No, it's fine, I just didn't expect you.”

“I would have called first, but you never gave me your number.” She giggles, and fuck that damn giggle makes my blood hot.

My mind is racing. I don't even know what to say. Her hands are folded across her waist and she's rocking back and forth on her heels. Her eyes dart around my face, then look out at the woods surrounding my home.

“Beautiful place you got here,” she says softly.

“Thank you.” That's it. That's all I say.

There's an awkwardness between us. I can feel it, making the air so thick you could cut it with a knife.

“So, are you going to invite me in?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry.” Stepping out of the way, I open the door wider. “Come on in.”

As she walks past me, I catch the scent of lilac and lavender. Her hair is in a loose braid, and she has a little hint of makeup on. Nothing crazy, just a light bronze shadow and some mascara.

It's subtle, but enough to make her eyes jump out even more. My fingers itch at my side to wrap her braid around my fist, and my lips tingle to kiss her.

Clearing my throat, I ask, “You want some coffee or something?”

“No, I'm all right. Thank you, though.”

My eyes lick up and down her body. In tight jean shorts and a black tank-top, I notice she has a bandage around her ankle.

“How's your ankle?” I ask.

“It's fine, just a sprain. Nothing broken, which is good.”

“Good, I'm glad to hear that.”

Say something! Tell her what you feel!

There are a million things I want to say to her, but I can't. This girl is only eighteen, she hasn't even started her life yet. I can't tell her how she's all I can think about. I can't tell her that my heart speeds up when I picture her face or how my stomach flips when I think about the night we shared.

She'd think I'm crazy. I don't need another rumor to start.

I'm twenty-eight, I know my place in this world. I know who I am and where I belong. She hasn't even dipped a toe in the water yet.

“So, what brings you here?” I finally ask, trying to relax my nerves.

Her hands fumble around each other and her eyes jump around all over the place. “I just wanted to thank you for what you did. I don't think I thanked you properly. If you weren't there, I don't know where I'd be right now.”

“You'd still be hobbling down that mountain,” I say jokingly.

Melody laughs and nods her head. “Yeah, you're right, I probably would be.” She bites her bottom lip, tugging it in. “But seriously, I'm grateful for what you did.”

“It's fine, anyone else would have done the same thing.”

“But it wasn't anyone else, it was you.” She takes a small step forward and drops her arms to her sides. “And I'm glad it was you. I really enjoyed our night together.” Her voice is sultry and strong.

“Look,” I say, holding up my hand, “I'm sorry, that should have never happened. If I had known you were eighteen—”

“Then what?” she asks, her tone changing, voice dropping angrily. “If you had known I was eighteen then what? You wouldn't have slept with me? You wouldn't have given me the greatest night of my life?”

“Melody, no that's not what I mean. I just mean you're young, you—”

“I'm an adult and I know what I want. I know I wanted you that night. And if I remember correctly, I was the one who made the first move. I was the one who wanted it. But if you're not man enough for a woman who doesn't second guess herself, then maybe I should just go.”

She turns quickly, ready to sprint for the door. But I catch her, grabbing her by the shoulders and whipping her around. I can't let her go like this. I can't let her think that I regret what happened.

Because I don't.

Melody doesn't realize that she's become a permanent fixture in my head. That I can't sleep without dreaming about her, or go one second without her crossing my mind.

With fierceness, I crush my lips against hers. I kiss her so she can feel what I can't say out loud. I kiss her so she knows that I've missed her this entire week. I kiss her so she knows that I have no regrets.

Melody moans into our kiss, her body falling into my arms willingly. There's no resistance. This is what she wants. Her lips taste like cherry gloss, and her tongue tastes like mint.

Her hands sweep up into my hair