GARRETT (Heart River Valley: Montana Protectors #2)

Chapter 6

Garrett

I wake before dawn, as always, but for once I don’t want to move. Rachel’s warm body is curled against mine, her breathing soft and steady.

In the faint pre-dawn light, I study her face - relaxed in sleep, dark lashes against her cheeks, lips slightly parted.

Last night replays in my mind - her gasps, her pleas, the way she came apart under my touch. Mine. The possessive thought surprises me with its intensity.

The main house is mostly done now - foundation solid, roof replaced, electrical updated. Three of the six artist cabins are finished, each with its own character that Rachel insisted on preserving. The other three will be ready before spring, creating the retreat she envisions. Smart business plan, really - artists coming to work in solitude, then showing their pieces in her friend’s gallery in town.

She sees potential in everything - these broken-down cabins, this neglected property, maybe even me. She fought me on every modern upgrade I suggested, somehow winning battles I never let anyone else win. Her passion for this place broke through all my practical arguments.

A few more months and the project will be complete. Then I’ll move on to the next job, like always. Never staying too long, never putting down roots. It’s worked for years - rolling into town, fixing what’s broken, and leaving before anything gets complicated.

Except everything about Rachel Winston is complicated. The way she challenges me, matches my stubbornness with her own. How she sees right through my professional distance to the man underneath. The way she’s made this drafty old property feel more like home than anywhere I’ve been.

My fingers trace her spine, feather-light, careful not to wake her. The marks I left on her neck stand out against her pale skin - visible claims that satisfy something primal in me. I should never have let this happen. Should have kept things professional. But watching her sleep in my arms, I know it’s too late. I’m already in deeper than I’ve ever been.

She stirs against me, and I tighten my arm around her waist. Not ready to let her go yet. When she tries to slip away, I pull her back.

“Where do you think you’re going?” My voice is rough from sleep. And from last night’s activities.

She turns in my arms, those green eyes meeting mine. Still heavy with sleep, but sharp enough to make my chest tighten. Dangerous, how much I like seeing her here, in my bed, wearing nothing but marks I left on her skin.

“I should get back to my cabin.” Her voice is husky. “I have work to do.”

“Stay for breakfast.” I trace her cheekbone with my thumb, feeling her lean into my touch. “I make a decent omelet.”

“Just decent?” A hint of that teasing smile I’ve come to crave. “Not exactly a ringing endorsement.”

I roll her beneath me, pinning her with my weight. “I could persuade you with other skills first.”

Her breath catches as I trail kisses down her neck, finding the sensitive spots I discovered last night. When I reach the mark I left on her collarbone, I bite down gently, making her gasp.

“Garrett...” Her fingers thread through my hair.

“Love how you say my name.” I move lower, tasting the soft skin between her breasts. “Especially when you’re begging.”

Her back arches as I take one nipple in my mouth. “I wasn’t begging.”

I lift my head, meeting her defiant gaze. “Not yet.”

Her eyes go soft and dark as I kiss my way back up to her mouth. The morning light catches the amber flecks in her irises, making them glow like embers. I could get lost in those eyes.

“You’re beautiful in the morning,” I murmur against her lips.

“Flatterer.” But she’s smiling.

“Just honest.” I brush my nose against hers. “Stay. Let me make you breakfast.”

She studies my face for a long moment. “What is this, Garrett?”

The question hangs between us, heavy with meaning. I should give her some casual answer, keep things simple. Instead, I find myself saying: “I don’t know. But I’m not ready for it to end.”

Her hand comes up to cup my cheek, thumb tracing my stubble. The tenderness in her touch undoes me.

“Neither am I,” she whispers.

I kiss her then, slow and deep, pouring everything I can’t say into it. She responds in kind, and for a while, we let the morning fade away around us.

She tastes like dawn, like possibilities. My hands run down her sides, savoring the way she arches into my touch. Each response draws out something primal in me - a need to cherish and protect.

“You’re thinking too hard,” she murmurs against my lips.

Of course she sees through me. She always does.

“Just wondering how I got lucky enough to have you here.”

Her smile could light up the whole cabin. “Must be your decent omelet-making skills.”

I laugh against her neck. “Is that what won you over?”

“Among other things.” Her fingers trace patterns on my back. Outside, the wind still howls, but in here, time seems suspended.

“Stay,” I say again. “Let the storm pass.”

She pretends to consider it. “Will there be coffee with this omelet?”

“French press. The good beans.”

“Now that’s persuasive.” She stretches beneath me like a cat. “Though we should probably eat something soon. We worked up quite an appetite last night.”

I press a kiss to her forehead, then her nose, then her lips. “Whatever you want, beautiful.”

The domesticity of it all should terrify me. Instead, it feels right. Like pieces falling into place.

A glance at the window confirms what the howling wind suggests - at least two feet of snow, still coming down hard. The path to Rachel’s cabin would be treacherous, and the road into town is definitely impassable.

“Looks like the weather’s making our decisions for us,” I say, running a hand down her spine. “No site work today. And the roads won’t be cleared until at least tomorrow.”

She props herself up on an elbow to look out the window, the sheet slipping to her waist. The sight is distracting enough that I almost miss her frown.

“The lumber delivery was supposed to come today for cabin four.” She bites her lip. “And the plumber was scheduled to finish the main house bathrooms.”

“They won’t be driving up the mountain in this.” I pull her back against me. “Nothing we can do about it today except...” I trail kisses along her shoulder.

“Except?”

“Stay warm.” Another kiss. “Stay in bed.” My hand slides lower. “Let me take care of you.”

She shivers, but not from cold. “We should at least check the generator. Make sure the pipes don’t freeze in the main house.”

Always practical. Even when I’m doing my best to distract her.

“Later,” I promise. “Right now, I have other plans.”

After thoroughly carrying out those “other plans” - twice - we finally make it to the kitchen around mid-morning. Rachel’s wearing one of my flannel shirts, looking far too tempting as she leans against the counter, watching me cook. Her hair’s still messy from my hands, marks visible above the collar. Something primitive in me loves seeing her like this - clearly claimed, clearly satisfied.

I’m whisking eggs when the generator sputters, then dies. The sudden silence is deafening.

“That’s not good,” Rachel says, wrapping her arms around herself as the temperature immediately starts to drop.

“Stay here.” I hand her my coffee. “I’ll check it.”

“I’m coming with you. I know where the spare parts are stored.”

Of course she does. She probably has an inventory spreadsheet somewhere.

“Wear my heavy coat,” I tell her. “And boots. It’s brutal out there.”

The trek to the generator shed takes twice as long as usual, fighting through waist-deep snow. Rachel leads the way to where she stored extra fuel and parts, competent as always. Between the two of us, we get power restored in under an hour, but we’re both half-frozen by the time we make it back inside.

“Shower,” I say, already steering her toward the bathroom. “Then I’m finally making you that omelet.”

She turns in my arms, snow melting in her hair. “Join me?”

Steam fills the bathroom as I strip off our wet clothes. Rachel’s shivering, skin pale from the cold, and I waste no time getting her under the hot spray. She sighs as the water hits her, but I notice her nipples still peaked, and not from the cold.

“Let me warm you up,” I murmur, pressing her against the tile. My hands slide over her wet skin, possessive. When she tries to touch me, I pin her wrists above her head.

“Not yet.” I nip at her ear. “First I’m going to make you forget about being cold.”

The water runs down her body in rivulets, making her skin gleam. I follow one droplet with my tongue, from her throat to her breast. When I take her nipple in my mouth, she arches with a gasp.

“Please...”

“Please what?” I switch to the other breast, making her whimper.

“Need you inside me.”

The words make my control snap. I held back last night and this morning, but I can’t hold back any longer.

I press her harder against the slick tiles, one hand gripping her hip, the other sliding between her thighs. She gasps against my mouth as my fingers tease her, slipping through her wet heat before pressing inside.

Her head falls back against the wall, a broken moan escaping her lips as I work her with slow, firm strokes.

“That’s it, baby,” I murmur, watching her face twist with pleasure. “Let me feel you come.”

She’s panting, hands gripping my shoulders, nails digging into my skin. I curl my fingers just right, pressing against that spot that makes her entire body shudder.

“Garrett—” She chokes on my name, thighs clenching tight around me as she comes apart, her orgasm pulsing around my fingers.

I groan, barely holding onto the last shred of control I have left. Fuck, she’s perfect. Watching her like this, helpless in pleasure, pushes me to the edge of reason.

I need to be inside her. Now.

I slide my fingers free, wrap my hands around her ass, and lift her higher. She barely has time to gasp before I position myself at her entrance and thrust inside, burying myself in her in one long, deep stroke.

“Damn,” I grit out, pressing my forehead to hers as I fight the urge to come right then and there. She’s so fucking tight. So hot, so wet, gripping me like she was made for me.

Her nails scrape down my back, legs squeezing around my waist as she rolls her hips. “Move,” she breathes. “I need you.”

I don’t hesitate. I pull back and thrust again, harder this time, until I have her bouncing against the wall, the water crashing down around us. I brace a hand under her thigh, angling her just right so every stroke hits deep, dragging a needy whimper from her lips.

She clings to me, moaning, her head thrown back, letting me take her exactly how I want— how I need.

“You feel so fucking good,” I groan, watching her breasts bounce with every thrust, her body shuddering with pleasure. “So goddamn perfect.”

She tightens around me, and I know she’s close again. But before she can tip over the edge, I grip her hips and pull out, setting her back on her feet.

She blinks up at me, breathless, confused—until I spin her around and press her hands against the wall.

“Garrett—”

“Hands there,” I growl. “Don’t move.”

She shivers, but not from the cold.

I grip her hips and thrust into her from behind, groaning at the way she takes me so deep, her tight, slick heat sucking me in. My hands spread across her waist, holding her in place as I drive into her, relentless, my eyes locked on the way my cock disappears inside her over and over again.

“Fuck, baby,” I rasp, one hand tangling in her wet hair, tugging her head back. “You were made for me.”

She cries out, back arching, her walls clenching around me.

“That’s right,” I praise, voice rough. “Come for me, Rachel.”

Her whole body tightens, and then she’s screaming my name, her orgasm ripping through her. The way she pulses around me, so damn tight and wet, drags me over the edge. I thrust hard, my vision going white as pleasure crashes through me.

I throw my head back and roar, hips jerking as I spill inside her, my entire body shaking from the force of it.

For a long moment, all I can hear is the water pounding around us, our ragged breathing mixing with the steam.

I press my forehead against the back of her neck, kissing her damp skin as I catch my breath. “Holy shit.”

She lets out a breathless laugh, still trembling against me. “Yeah.”

I wrap my arms around her, pulling her against me, and press a kiss to her temple. “So much for making that omelet.”

She grins, tilting her head up to look at me. “Who needs food when I have you?”

I chuckle, tightening my hold on her. “Careful, sweetheart. Keep saying things like that, and we’ll be stuck in this shower all damn day.”

Her smile turns wicked. “I wouldn’t complain.”

Damn. This girl is making me crazy.