Home > Gentry (Wolves of Winter's Edge #1)(8)

Gentry (Wolves of Winter's Edge #1)(8)
Author: T.S. Joyce

Blaire would leave tomorrow. He would make it happen, but right now, he wished to God he could make that happen for himself, too.

Chapter Four

Okay…now what?

Blaire looked around the cabin living room expectantly. She’d put away all her things in the single bedroom, hung her sweaters by color, organized the drawers, placed her shoes just so in the closet, put all her toiletries in neat lines on the counter in the bathroom, and was dressed in her sexiest pajamas. By sexiest, she meant a long-sleeved purple sleep shirt with cartoon llamas printed on them and matching thermal leggings. There was a zero percent chance of her getting laid if Gentry saw her in these, so when a sudden knock echoed through the door, she startled hard, almost spilling her glass of red wine, and then only opened the barrier between them a crack.

Only Gentry didn’t stay outside, but shoved his way in and paced along the back wall like a wild animal in a cage.

Blaire tiptoed toward the throw blanket folded neatly on the back of the moose-print couch.

“Stop right there. Don’t come any closer.”

Blaire froze, mid sip of her wine. When he turned and paced the other way, she got a good look at his face, which was swollen and bloody, and why was he limping?

“What happened to you?” she exclaimed as she approached him.

She cornered him good, and he backed up to the wall, face averted, but she wasn’t going to be put off. “You’re bleeding,” she murmured, touching the short whiskers on his jaw.

Gentry grabbed her wrist. “What part confused you, woman? Stop right there, or don’t come any closer?”

Blaire gulped her wine because, truth be told, she’d filled it to the tippy top, and it was sloshing. “Who did this?”

Gentry took the glass from her hand and downed the rest like a shot. Okay then.

She tried to pull his face toward her again, but he swatted her hand away like a pesky fly. “Stop touching me, Trouble. You’re making everything worse.”

“I’m making it worse? I didn’t beat you, and I shared my wine with you. You’re very welcome, sir.”

Gentry dragged a quick glance down her pajamas and then back up to her face. At least he didn’t laugh, but it was rather rude when he said, “I’ve thought about it, and you need to leave tomorrow.”


Gentry looked slapped. “What?”

“I said no. The cabin is paid for, I’m not leaving my vacation, so stop being a butthole.”

One blond brow arched up. “I’m sorry, did you just call me a butthole?”

“I don’t cuss.”

He looked down at her pajamas again. “Are those llamas?”

“Don’t judge, I didn’t invite you in here. I thought you were going to pass me the food through the crack I made in the door. Wait, where is the food?” The panic set in a little. She wasn’t good just devouring wine on an empty stomach, and already she was feeling tipsy. “You’re bleeding for mysterious reasons, and there is no food. Gentry, I was serious about being hungry, and what happened to your face? Did you have a bad drug deal or a bar fight or an accident?”


“What?” she asked, dumbfounded.

“Option B—the bar fight one.”

“Oh. Fantastic.”

“I got food. I just left it in the truck. This was a bad idea.” Slowly, he covered his crotch with his hands.

Heat blazed up her neck and landed in her cheeks as she backed off a few steps. Well, this was awkward. He made her horny, too, but she was a girl and could hide it better. “I’m going to…”

“You aren’t wearing a bra…”

She lifted her empty glass in the air. “Get some more wine.”

“Your nipples are…”

“You better be about to say ‘glorious’ and not ‘big,’” she muttered, walking away. She wasn’t wearing underwear either because vacation, but he didn’t have to know that.

“Are you not wearing panties either?”

“I told you I wasn’t trying to invite you in!”

The wine bottle glugged and emptied completely as she filled it to the tip-top again. She even waited for the last few drops to shake into it before she took a long sip.

“You weren’t supposed to say no.” There was a frown in his deep, sexy voice.

“Does every woman tell you yes? That sounds boring, and quite frankly, it’s probably why you’re still single.” Yep, she was fishing. She sipped her wine and arched her eyebrows primly as she waited for a response.

Disappointingly, he didn’t take the bait. Instead, he strode directly for the door and disappeared outside. The swinging door banged closed, startling her all over again. Gentry wasn’t a gentle man. He was stompy, and moved too fast, and didn’t care about nearly breaking everything. Maybe he didn’t know his own strength or something. Blaire craned her neck to watch him walk with his long, deliberate strides to his truck parked in front of her cabin. He would probably break her in the bedroom. Rough man. Probably spanked too hard, nibbled too roughly, grabbed too firmly, and thrusted…too…deeply.

Blaire narrowed her eyes at his back. Gentry had turned her into a pervert.

When he made his way up the steps with a bulging bag of food, she pretended to be reading one of the outdoor magazines that had been stacked in the middle of the counter. Something about knives, or stalking coyotes, or duck calls, or she didn’t know. The second Gentry opened the door again, he filled the entire room. How did he do that? It was as if her body were hyper-aware of him.

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