TARYN POV
Reid waits for me on the front steps of Crescent Lake’s large log cabin packhouse, his hands in the pockets of his gray sweatpants and his knee bouncing. He tracks my every movement up the stairs, his eyes leaving behind a heat that brands not just my skin, but my soul. His body is tense, muscles rippling under his black t-shirt, and his fists clench in his pockets.
“Hey,” I say as I reach him, stopping one step below where he stands.
I stare up at him, hands on the backs of my hips, waiting. For what, I don’t know. Maybe for him to pull me in the rest of the way, to hug me like he did yesterday after I pinned him? Or for him to tell me he missed me as much as I missed him?
He stares back at me, his eyes scanning my body, leaving that heated trail behind. It’s not like when
