I’m over him. Really, I am.
I’m moving back home, but everything will be fine.
It’s not like I’ll have to spend any time alone with him.
Now, if he and I were trapped together in his cabin,
the one where we used to have our secret rendezvous,
then I might get in trouble.
But what are the odds of that happening?
So my first boyfriend broke my heart. It sucked. But how many people get to hit the jackpot on their first try, right? I was young. I could get over him. I was going to college. I thought a brand new life would make me forget about him.
Well, I thought wrong. I realize that the very first time I see him after moving back home.
It’s not my fault, really. He looks even hotter than I remember, and that’s just not fair. Even the older ladies in town can’t resist stealing glances at his sculpted muscles.
I try to avoid him, but nothing ever goes according to my plan.
I remember everything, every precious, stolen moment we shared in his cabin. Away from prying eyes, we could be free to explore each other, to let the flame that burned between us spread like wildfire and consume us.
He used to kiss me like a man starved, grabbing my waist as he yanked me flush to his hard chest. I remember the wicked words he whispered in my ears, the way he completely dominated my body and soul . . .
Yep. I’m totally over him. That’s why just driving past his cabin brings back all those memories. Of course, that’s when my car—the piece of junk—decides to break down.
At least the cabin is empty. And I’m cold, so I shed my wet clothes and sit by the fireplace. But just as I start to relax and enjoy the crackling flame, the door bursts open. It’s him.
As if that’s not bad enough, a sudden snowstorm means we’re locked in here together. Just me, him . . . and the palpable chemistry between us.
