Chapter 23
Hannah
T he night feels colder than it should, even with the fire crackling somewhere behind me.
I can’t remove the image of Levi restraining Jake, fists clenched.
At that moment, I didn’t see the man who carried me to bed last night.
I saw someone fierce, his inner protective rage revealed. It was jolting.
The sheriff’s truck door slams. Levi approaches the doorway. When his eyes lock on mine, the fierceness softens. The kind man in him seeps through. I see the thoughtful one who made coffee for me this morning, who kissed me long and sweet just hours ago.
My brain hurts with the whiplash of it all.
My breath is shaky, my body trembling, but when he stops in front of me, so close I can feel the heat coming off his skin, I don’t back away.
“You’re safe,” he says quietly. “He’s not coming near you again.”
The words are such a relief that my knees nearly give.
When Levi comes toward me, I grab him tight, leaning into his chest and holding him.
He steadies me with his strong body. I glue my body to his.
I need to know everything will be alright.
I need to feel that this raging, fierce side of him is rare.
When I lift my eyes to Levi again, the tight leash he’s kept on himself is right there in his gaze.
“You kept us safe,” I murmur. “You’ve done nothing but protect us. And I…” My throat thickens, but I press the words out anyway. “I can’t keep pretending I don’t want you.”
He exhales hard, like I’ve just released a weight from him.
“Hannah,” he rasps, the word rough with restraint.
“I’ve wanted you almost since the beginning when I saw you at the harvest festival.
But I don’t want you to feel like you owe me anything.
Because you don’t. I adore you and Ivy. It’s that simple. ”
I shake my head, sliding closer, my fingers curling into the hard muscle of his arms. “This isn’t obligation. It’s me … wanting you.”
His mouth crashes down on mine, hungry passion he’s been holding back. I melt against him even more, desperate to feel every inch of him pressed to me.
He lifts me like I weigh nothing, my legs wrapping around his waist as he carries me inside.
The door clicks shut behind us, the cabin dim except for the glow of the fire.
He sets me down on the couch only long enough to peel the tank top over my head.
His eyes darken at the sight of me, bare and trembling under his gaze.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs. “God, Hannah, you’re everything, but you’re tense. I’m going to get you nice and relaxed. Let me massage you.”
I nod, unable to speak, and let him guide me to the rug in front of the fire. He kneels behind me, large hands gentle as he urges me down onto my stomach. My hair falls over my face, curtaining my eyes. I feel raw, exposed, but not in a way that makes me want to hide.
I trust Levi’s hands as they graze my shoulders, warm as sunlight even with the fire at my back.
He kneads slow circles around the tightness I’m holding.
His thumbs press deep and I feel a little of the world’s weight burn away.
My face sinks into the plush rug, and the heat seeps through my skin all the way to my bones.
Levi shifts, his knees on either side of my hips, his weight hovering over me like a shield.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” he says, and his voice is low, softer than I thought possible for a man who just has a take-down episode with another man outside. I answer him with a little sigh, every part of me surrendering to the feeling of being cared for by someone who wants to do it right.
His hands are strong but careful, working over my shoulder blades, down my spine, lingering at the border of my waistband.
I know he wants to go further, but he’s asking with every touch whether I’ll let him.
The answer is yes, and yes again. I am breathless and so very aware of how few men have ever treated me like something precious and how few have waited for my yes.
I hardly register the ache in my muscles anymore. I only feel Levi’s palms, the friction and weight of them, the wordless way he treats every inch of me like discovery and invitation.
His thumbs skate up the back of my neck, finding the spot where tension gathers.
My body jerks, a shudder of surprise, and I feel his lips in my hair, barely brushing.
I want to turn over, pull him to me, but I don’t.
Not yet. Not when being here, being seen and touched and -- God, wanted -- feels so new I barely know how to breathe through it.
“You’re incredible,” he whispers. His lips trace the shell of my ear, and his breath shivers down the length of my spine. “Every time I touch you, I want more.”
I’m silent … melted like butter under his touch.