She’d done the dishes. He’d walked into the sparkling clean kitchen and stalled out. She’d done the dishes. She’d not only done the dishes, she’d cleaned the entire kitchen. He’d turned on his heel and left the house to jack off twice in the woods before he could dare chance seeing her. If he’d seen her, he would have taken her. As it was, he stood, thinking on how damn sexy she was, while he waited for her to finish dressing for dinner. He’d asked her if she’d like to go out and her response had been so damn excited, he’d felt like a jerk for not realising how isolated she was out here. She probably longed to get the hell out of this place. “Torque?” He turned and the memory slipped from his brain. His heart slammed into his ribs. She looked like some fallen angel, complete with gold, shimmery dress that barely hit her upper thighs and revealed a long, firm line of skin down to her golden-toed high heels. He wanted those things on later.
