Somewhere You Belong: Carrington Cove Book 1 (Carrington Cove Series) by Harlow James

Author:Harlow James [James, Harlow]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2024-06-21T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter fourteen

Willow

Before I can respond, he tears open the door that I stupidly had unlocked, pushing me aside prior to slamming it shut and locking it like I should have.

“What the hell are you doing, Dallas? This is breaking and entering!” I shriek as his broad frame towers over me, drenched from head to toe.

He narrows his gaze at me before closing the distance between us, worry and frustration wafting off him. “I’m making sure you’re safe, Willow. Because if something were to happen to you, and I fucking walked away, I would never forgive myself.” He points a finger at his chest. “I’ve lost too many people in my life because of shitty circumstances and instances where there was nothing I could do. But this? This I can protect you from.”

Rearing back, I’m caught off guard by the command in his voice and the clear worry in his eyes. But something tells me that pushing him away would only make him react more, so instead, I relent, even though my stomach is in knots just being in the same room as him again.

“Okay. Fine.”

His jaw clenches like he was ready for a fight. “Wow. What a relief to see you can be reasonable.”

“I’m fucking terrified right now. And even though you’re the last person I wanted to see, I guess it’s better than being left alone in this chaos.”

He huffs, wiping water from his face. And at that moment, I take the opportunity to really take him in.

His dark hair is plastered to his forehead, drenched from the rain, dripping water all over his face and the floor. His signature black shirt and jeans are soaked as well, and his boots are squeaking as he takes steps toward the counter to drop off the bag of supplies he brought with him.

He came over with supplies.

For me.

He wanted to make sure I was safe.

This is exactly why resisting him has been such a feat. But after what I learned Saturday night, my reasons for staying away have multiplied exponentially. I guess the weather had other plans to make avoiding him even more difficult, though.

“Could you throw these in the dryer while we still have power, please?” he asks, yanking his jacket and shirt over his head in one smooth motion before I can respond.

And holy hell.

The man standing before me is rippled with muscle and sinew that I want nothing more than to paint with my tongue. His tan skin is glistening from his rain-soaked clothes, and then he turns to me, arching a brow as I stand there, shell-shocked, his hand outstretched with his clothes, waiting for me to speak. But all I can do is stare at the water droplets cascading down his chest, rolling over his nipple that I have an alarmingly strong urge to bite.

“Willow?”

“What?” I blink, clear my throat, and then rip the clothes from his hand. “Sure. Fine,” I say as I walk away, trying to keep my dignity intact.

“You can come back and stare a bit more, if you want.

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