Chapter 5
Jake
I don't do parties. But Rachel has this way of making things happen whether you want them to or not, which is why the Winston ranch house is currently full of people, music, and the smell of pastries.
Elena's here too, looking like everything I shouldn't want in that soft blue sweater. She's been avoiding my eyes all night, and I can't blame her. Not after I kissed her and ran like some teenage kid.
“You're brooding again.” Rachel appears at my elbow with two cups of cider. “Here. And go talk to her.”
“I'm not—”
“Jake Foster, if you say you're not brooding while literally standing in a dark corner staring at Elena, I will dump this cider over your head. You need to give the whole ‘I’m a loner and I don’t need anyone’ thing a rest.”
I take the cup, mostly to protect myself. “Shouldn't you be bothering your brother about Dana?”
“Already done. He's been hovering near the kitchen door ever since she arrived with more desserts.” She grins. “Funny how he volunteers to help carry everything in when she’s the one who needs help.”
The music pulses through the crowded living room. Elena stands near the fireplace, the flames casting a warm glow on her skin. She laughs at something Isabella says, but glances over at me. A moment later, she slips away from the group and heads toward the back door.
Before Rachel can meddle further, I set down my untouched cider and follow.
The night air hits me like a shock after the warmth inside. Elena stands at the edge of the porch, her breath visible in the cold. Moonlight catches in her hair, and I take moment to drink in the sight.
I move behind her quietly, but she must sense me there. She doesn't startle when I slide my arms around her waist, drawing her back against my chest. Her breath catches as I brush my lips against her neck, just below her ear.
“Jake,” she whispers, and then she's turning in my arms.
This kiss is different from our first. There's no hesitation, no holding back. Her fingers thread through my hair as I press her against the porch railing, tasting cinnamon and cider on her lips. She makes a soft sound that drives me crazy, and I deepen the kiss, my hand sliding up her back while the other cups her face.
She arches into me, and rational thought disappears. My hand slips under her sweater, finding warm skin, and she gasps into my mouth when I grind my erection against her. I want to hear that sound again. Want to hear all the sounds she might make if I took her home, laid her out on my bed, and took my time tasting every inch of her.
“Jake,” she breathes when I trail kisses down her neck. Her head falls back, giving me better access, and I take full advantage, finding the sensitive spot just below her ear that makes her shiver. Her nails scrape lightly against my shoulders, and I growl against her throat.
She hooks one leg around mine, pulling me closer, and the friction nearly undoes me. I can feel her heart racing beneath my lips as I kiss along her collarbone. Every soft whimper, every time she says my name like a prayer, pushes me closer to the edge of my control.
I want her. God, I want her. Want to peel off that sweater that's been driving me crazy all night. Want to find out if her skin tastes as sweet everywhere else. Want to take her home and make her mine in every way possible. But there’s no way a girl like her would want anything real with a man like me. In a small town like this.
The thought of her in my bed nearly breaks me. I capture her mouth again, hungry and desperate, and she meets me with equal need. Her tongue slides against mine as her hands roam under my jacket, mapping the muscles of my back through my shirt.
“We should stop,” I manage to say, even as I'm pressing closer, pinning her more firmly against the railing.
“Probably,” she agrees, but then she nips at my bottom lip and rational thought deserts me again.
Minutes or hours pass before the sound of laughter from inside finally penetrates the haze of desire. Elena's lips are swollen, her hair mussed from my hands, and knowing I did that to her sends another surge of want through me.
I look down into her eyes, both of us breathing hard. “Come with me,” I say before I can think better of it. “I want to show you something.”
She blinks up at me, still dazed. “Now?”
“Now.” I take her hand, needing some distance from the crowd. “My truck's out front.”
We slip away from the party without anyone noticing – or at least pretending not to notice. The drive is quiet, but Elena's hand finds mine over the center console. Every few seconds I catch her watching me in my peripheral vision, her lips still slightly swollen from our kisses.
Ten minutes later, I turn onto the private road that leads to my place. The truck's headlights cut through the darkness, catching on fence posts and scattered pines until I pull to a stop at the highest point of the property.
“Where are we?” Elena asks as I help her down from the cab.
“My place.” I lead her to the edge of the ridge. Below us, moonlight silvers the valley, making the creek glitter like scattered diamonds. “I bought it last year. A thousand acres. Been clearing this section slowly, fixing fences. It’s probably not very impressive to a city girl like you, but-”
She draws in a sharp breath. “It's beautiful.”
“That's not even the best part.” I wrap my arms around her from behind, pointing northeast. “So the old cabin I live in that was already here is just over there. But see where that stand of pines thins out? That's where I'm building my new house. Already got the foundation poured before winter hit.”
She leans back against my chest. “You're building it yourself?”
“Most of it. Ryder helps when he can, and I'll bring in specialists for the electrical and plumbing. But yeah, I want to do as much as I can myself.”
“Why?”
I'm quiet for a moment, considering how much to share. But something about the night, about her, makes me want to be honest. “My dad was a contractor. He taught me everything I know about building. After he died...” I swallow hard. “Guess I wanted to make something permanent. Something that would last.”
She turns in my arms, her eyes soft in the moonlight. “Tell me about him?”
And surprisingly, I do. I tell her about learning to frame walls when I was twelve, about the way Dad would whistle while he worked, about the accident that took him from us too soon. She listens, really listens, occasionally asking questions but mostly just letting me talk.
When I fall silent, she reaches up and traces my jaw with gentle fingers. “Thank you for showing me this. For telling me.”
I catch her hand, press a kiss to her palm. “Your turn.”
“My turn?”
“Tell me something real. Something that scares you.”
Elena stiffens in my arms, and for a moment I think she won't answer.
“I...” She takes a shaky breath. “There's something I haven't told anyone. Saying it out loud makes it real, you know?”
I stay quiet, giving her time to continue. The vulnerability in her voice makes my protective instincts surge.
“There's this man in New York. Victor Rothschild.” She practically whispers his name. “He's a major patron of the arts. Wealthy, influential. The kind of connection every gallery owner dreams of having.”
The way she says it sets off warning bells in my head.
“At first, he was just... intense. Showing up at every exhibition. Sending elaborate gifts to the gallery.” Her voice gets smaller. “Then he started showing up at my apartment. My favorite coffee shop. Places he shouldn't have known about.”
My hands clench into fists. I force them to relax.
“He'd say things like 'we're meant to be together' and 'he’s the only one for me.' When I turned down his dinner invitations, he got angry. Said I belonged with him. That he could ruin me in the art world if I rejected him.”
“Did you report him?” The words come out rougher than I intended.
She shakes her head. “I considered filing a restraining order last month. But men like Victor... they don't see legal boundaries as anything but an inconvenience. Money makes a lot of problems disappear in New York. I keep hoping he will just lose interest.”
“Is that why you came to Montana?”
“Partly.” She lets out a hollow laugh. “When the girls suggested it, it seemed like perfect timing. A legitimate reason to put some distance between us. I told myself I was being paranoid, that I was overreacting...”
“You weren't.”
She looks up at me then, and the relief in her eyes makes my chest ache.
“Please don't tell Rachel or Isabella,” she says quickly. “They'd only worry, and I don't want to burden them with this. It's almost embarrassing - I'm a grown woman, I should be able to handle this.”
“Elena.” I take her chin between my thumb and forefinger, making sure she’s looking directly into my eyes. “There's nothing embarrassing about protecting yourself from someone who's threatening you. Nothing.”
Her eyes shine with unshed tears. “I just... I hate feeling helpless. Hate that he has this power over me. That I've started looking over my shoulder, jumping at shadows.”
The need to protect her, to keep her safe, slams into me with physical force. But I keep my voice steady. “You're not helpless. And you're not alone.”
She gives me a wan smile. “I know it seems silly to be worried about him finding me all the way out here...”
“It's not silly.” I cup her cheek with my hand. “But I promise you - you're safe here. With me.”
The tension in her shoulders eases slightly. “Thank you. For listening. For not telling me I'm overreacting. And for...” She gestures vaguely at our chests pressed together.
I hug her gently, trying to convey everything I can't say out loud. That I'll keep her safe. That Victor will never touch her. That the thought of anyone threatening her makes me want to commit violence.
Instead, I say, “Anytime.”
She shivers slightly against me, though I'm not sure if it's from the cold or our conversation. “I don’t want to discuss him anymore tonight.”
I lean down, resting my forehead against hers. “What do you want?”
There’s no hesitation. “I want you.”
I pull her into another kiss, deep and hungry, backing us toward the truck. I open the rear passenger door and lift her up. We tumble in together, and I pull the door shut behind us. The cold Montana night presses against the windows, but inside the cab, heat builds between us.
The dim overhead light casts a soft glow on her skin before going out as I lay her back across the long seat. Her legs part for me automatically as I settle between them, capturing her mouth again. She arches up when I slip my hand under her sweater, finding bare skin that's still chilled from the night air.
“Let me take your mind off everything,” I murmur against her throat, and she shivers for an entirely different reason.
Our breath starts to fog the windows as I trail kisses down her neck, taking my time to find every sensitive spot. When I reach the collar of her sweater, I push it aside, exposing more skin to my mouth. Her fingers thread through my hair, guiding me where she wants me.
The temperature in the cab rises with each passing moment. Condensation forms on the windows, creating a private world just for us. Her skin flushes under my touch as I work my way lower, undoing her jeans with deliberate slowness.
“Jake, please,” she whimpers, lifting her hips to help me slide them off after kicking her shoes off. The black lace of her underwear makes my mouth water, but I force myself to go slow, to savor every moment.
I hook my fingers in the delicate fabric, drawing it down her legs inch by inch. Then I grasp her ankles, guiding her feet up until they're braced against the roof of the truck. The position leaves her completely exposed to me, vulnerable and trusting in a way that makes my chest tight. She's already wet for me, and the sight of her arousal makes me growl.
“You're so beautiful,” I breathe, watching her chest rise and fall with quick pants. The windows are completely fogged now, the outside world nothing but shadows beyond the glass.
“You sure?” I ask, even as I'm pressing open-mouthed kisses to her inner thigh, feeling her tremble beneath my lips.
“Yes,” she breathes. “God, yes. Please.”
The first swipe of my tongue has her gasping, her hands flying to my hair. I take my time, learning her body like a map I want to memorize. Every moan, every shiver, every buck of her hips teaches me what she likes. When I find a particularly sensitive spot, her thighs tighten around my head, and I double my efforts there.
Her breathing gets heavier, turning the windows even more opaque. Droplets of condensation begin to run down the glass as I slide a finger inside her, curling it just right while my tongue works her clit. She whimpers, the sound echoing in our steamy sanctuary.
Her hips buck against my mouth as I drive her higher. The taste of her on my tongue, the way she pulls my hair, the sight of her coming undone - it's all driving me crazy. I want to make her fall apart. Want to hear her scream my name into the cold Montana night.
“Jake,” she pants, her feet pressing harder against the roof. “I'm so close...”
I slip a second finger inside her, changing the angle slightly, and her whole body arches. “That's it, baby,” I murmur against her. “Let go for me.”
Moments later she shatters, her release hitting her in waves as she moans out my name. I work her through it gently, not stopping until she tugs me up for a desperate kiss. She tastes herself on my tongue, moaning softly.
“That was...” she manages between breaths, her chest still heaving.
I kiss her again, softer this time, as the windows slowly begin to clear in the cold night air. “Just the beginning.”