Chapter 3
Chapter
Three
G emma watched Case move around the kitchen with quiet efficiency, each motion deliberate—controlled. He stirred the stew like a man used to order, used to rhythm, used to the kind of discipline that kept people alive in chaos. He didn’t waste movements. He didn’t second guess himself.
But she didn’t buy the calm act for a second.
He’d backed off his questioning far too easily. She wasn’t na?ve enough to think it meant he’d let it go. No, Case Savage didn’t strike her as the kind of man who ever truly let anything go. He was watching her. Waiting. She could feel it like pressure on her skin, a weight in the air. But he was giving her space, giving her time to come clean on her own.
She didn’t dare.
Not yet.
She’d learned that lesson the hard way. No one ever believed her, not once they met Darren Mitchell. He had a silver tongue and a camera-ready smile. A sympathetic voice and soft, steady hands. He knew exactly how to turn people against her without ever raising his voice or a finger in front of witnesses.
By the time he was done, she always looked like the unstable one.
And on the off chance someone did believe her? They’d end up in the hospital. Or worse. Accidents, always. Always just believable enough not to raise alarms.
She tugged the blanket tighter around her shoulders, huddling into it like armor. The fire in the hearth crackled softly, casting golden light across the rustic interior of the cabin, but it didn’t quite reach the chill running down her spine.
Was Darren out there now?
Watching from the trees, eyes trained through a scope, finger resting lightly on the trigger?
Would he wait until she stepped onto the porch, until Case turned his back?
She swallowed hard, her gaze shifting toward the windows. The curtains were open. Too open.
Bang!
Metal clanged against metal and she yelped, jerking upright on the couch. Pain exploded through her ankle, sharp and blinding, and she bit back a cry, breathing hard through her nose.
“Shit—sorry,” Case called out, his voice carrying easily across the open space. “Dropped the damn lid in the sink. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
She let out a breathless laugh, forcing the tension from her face. “It’s okay. I was dozing. You just caught me off guard.”
He turned and gave her a long look, one dark eyebrow arching with unmistakable skepticism. He didn’t buy her excuse, but he didn’t call her on it either. Just nodded once, slow and deliberate, then turned back to the stove.
Gemma’s heartbeat thudded like a war drum in her chest. She sank back into the couch, fighting the rising wave of panic and focusing on the scent wafting through the room instead. The stew smelled incredible—rich, savory, tinged with wild herbs she didn’t recognize. She never thought she’d look forward to eating Bambi’s father, but here she was, curled up on a mountain man’s couch with a sprained ankle and a growing appreciation for Montana cuisine.
“When in Rome,” she muttered under her breath.
Case didn’t turn, but his lips twitched in what might’ve been a smile. “Smells that good, huh?”
“I wasn’t sure I’d be able to eat anything tonight,” she admitted. “But if it tastes half as good as it smells…”
He reached for a spoon, gave the pot a thoughtful stir. “You’ll forget Bambi ever existed.”
Her stomach growled, loud and shameless, and she winced.
“I’ll eat his mother if she tastes as good as it smells.”
This time, the smile made it all the way to his face. “Biscuits are almost done. Give it thirty minutes. You should rest while you can.”
Gemma nodded, leaning back into the cushions, drawing the blanket up to her chin. The cabin was warm, the fire comforting, and for the first time in days, she let herself feel safe. Maybe not completely, but enough to ease her shoulders down from around her ears.
The silence between them was companionable. Easy. The clatter of utensils, the soft bubbling of the stew, the occasional gust of wind against the windows—it all blended into a soothing lull.
Until the buzzing broke it.
Her phone.
She pulled it from beneath the blanket, frowning. The screen blinked to life.
One new message.
No name. Just a number she hadn’t saved—but she didn’t need to.
Her blood turned to ice as her eyes locked on the words.
You can’t escape me. I will kill him if he touches you.
The phone slipped in her shaking fingers, nearly tumbling to the floor. She clutched it tighter, swallowing back the bile rising in her throat. The walls of the cabin seemed to close in, the air too thick to breathe.
Behind her, Case stirred something in the pot. Totally unaware.
Or was he?
Her heart pounded so hard she thought it might crack a rib. She forced herself to draw in a breath. Then another. She had to think. Had to stay calm.
She couldn’t let him know.
Not yet.
Not until she figured out what the hell to do.
S he was lying to him. He could almost taste her fear and it pissed him off. There was nothing he hated more than terrified women and children or the men who preyed on them. But until she opened up to him, he had to be patient.
Despite Gemma saying she was hungry, she picked at her stew and biscuits, barely tasting it. His instincts were pushing at him, to make sure she ate something, but the bruised look in her eyes stopped him, reminded him not to be like everyone else in her life that steamrolled her.
Case watched her from across the wooden table, the soft glow of the oil lamp casting shadows across her face. Outside, the storm lashed against his cabin, the wind howling like a wounded animal. The brutal weather had trapped them here together, and maybe that was a blessing. She couldn’t run from whatever—whoever—was hunting her, at least not tonight.
Her phone had buzzed earlier, and he’d seen the color drain from her face. Just for a second, before she masked it with that forced smile that never reached her eyes. Case had lived alone on this mountain long enough to recognize prey behavior. Every instinct he had honed in the wilderness screamed that Gemma was being stalked, and not by any four-legged predator.
“You should finish that,” he said, nodding toward her bowl. “Mountain air takes more out of you than you think.”
She nodded absently, taking another bite that she clearly didn’t taste. Her eyes kept darting to the windows, dark now except for occasional flashes of lightning that illuminated the driving snow. Each time, she flinched almost imperceptibly, but Case noticed. He noticed everything about her.
“Nobody’s coming up this mountain tonight,” he said, his voice low and certain. “Not in this storm.”
Her eyes snapped to his, wide and startled, before she composed herself. “I know,” she said. “I’m not worried about that.”
Another lie. He let it pass, standing to clear their dishes. The movements were familiar, routine. Scraping leftover stew into a container, washing the wooden bowls in the basin of hot water he’d heated on the woodstove. It gave him something to do with his hands while his mind worked through the problem of her.
When he’d found Gemma sprawled on the trail that afternoon, ankle twisted and face pale with pain, his first instinct had been wariness. Strangers didn’t wander onto his land by accident. But then she’d looked up at him with those enormous green eyes, and something in his chest had shifted, making room for her.
“I set up the bedroom for you,” he said, drying his hands on a rough cloth. “I’ll take the couch. It’s more comfortable than it looks.”
“Thank you,” she said, and at least that seemed genuine. “For everything. Most people wouldn’t have...” She trailed off, biting her lower lip.
“Most people don’t live on mountains,” he replied with a shrug, but he understood what she meant. In the world she came from, strangers didn’t help each other without expecting something in return. He’d left that world behind years ago.
Case helped her limp to the bedroom, hyperaware of the warmth of her body against his side, the scent of her hair—something floral that had no business being so damn appealing when mixed with sweat and fear. He’d wrapped her ankle earlier, his rough hands moving as gently as they could over her delicate skin. That small act of trust had affected him more than it should have.
“Try to get some sleep,” he said, his voice gruffer than he intended. “We’ll head down to town in the morning, once the storm breaks.”
She nodded, not meeting his eyes, and he closed the door behind him with a quiet click.
The couch was definitely not as comfortable as he’d claimed, but Case had slept on worse. He stared at the ceiling, listening to the storm and trying not to think about the woman in his bed. He failed miserably. His mind kept circling back to the moment her phone had buzzed, the flash of naked terror in her eyes before she’d hidden it away.
Whoever was after her wouldn’t stop. Men like that never did, not without intervention. Case knew this with bone-deep certainty. He’d seen it before, had the scars to prove it. But he couldn’t help if she wouldn’t talk to him.
He must have dozed off eventually, because he jerked awake to the sound of movement. His hand automatically reached for the knife he kept nearby, but then he recognized Gemma’s uneven footsteps, favoring her injured ankle.
“You should be sleeping,” he said, sitting up. The fire had burned low, casting the main room in a dim orange glow. She stood in the doorway of the bedroom, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, her hair tumbling loose around her face.
“I can’t sleep,” she said. Her voice was raw, as if she’d been crying. “I don’t want to sleep. I want to forget.”
The words hung between them, heavy with meaning. Case stood slowly, afraid of spooking her, though what he really wanted was to close the distance between them in two long strides.
“Forget what, Gemma?” he asked quietly.
Instead of answering, she moved toward him, limping but determined. When she reached him, she stared up at his face, something desperate in her expression.
“Just for tonight,” she whispered. “Help me forget just for tonight.”
Case knew he should step back. She was vulnerable, scared, not thinking clearly. But then her hand came up to touch his face, fingers tracing the scar that ran along his jaw, and every rational thought fled his mind.
“I’m not good at gentle,” he warned, his voice a low rumble.
“I don’t want gentle,” she replied.
That was all it took. The last thread of his restraint snapped, and he captured her mouth with his. The kiss was hungry, desperate—everything he’d been holding back since he’d first seen her. She tasted like fear and need and something sweeter underneath, something that made his chest ache.
She kissed him back with equal fervor, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. The blanket fell from her shoulders, forgotten. Case lifted her effortlessly, his grip possessive, and carried her the few steps to the kitchen counter. He set her down, positioning himself between her thighs, never breaking the kiss.
His hands roamed restlessly over her body, learning the curves of her beneath the borrowed flannel shirt she wore. When he pulled back to look at her face, her lips were swollen, her eyes dark with desire. For this moment, at least, the fear was gone, replaced by something molten and needful.
“You’re sure?” he asked, his thumbs tracing circles on her hipbones.
In answer, she pulled him back to her, teeth nipping at his lower lip in a way that made him groan. Case sank into sensation then—the softness of her skin beneath his calloused hands, the little gasps she made when he found sensitive spots, the way she arched into him as if seeking shelter in the solid mass of his body.
He unbuttoned her shirt—his shirt— slowly, giving her time to stop him, but her hands only urged him on, tugging impatiently at his own clothing. When he finally bared her to the waist, the shirt abandoned on the counter behind her, he paused, drinking in the sight of her. Beautiful didn’t begin to cover it. She was all soft curves and pale skin in the firelight, a vision that made his heart hammer against his ribs.
“You’re staring,” she whispered, a hint of vulnerability creeping back into her voice.
“Can’t help it,” he replied, his voice rough with want. “Never seen anything more beautiful on this mountain.”
Color bloomed in her cheeks, and she tugged him forward to kiss him again, deeper this time, slower. His hands found her breasts, thumbs brushing over nipples that hardened at his touch. She moaned into his mouth, the sound sending heat straight to his core.
Case trailed kisses down her neck, across her collarbone, taking his time now despite the urgency thrumming through his veins. Her pulse raced beneath his lips, her breath short and fast. When his mouth closed over her breast, she gasped, her hands tightening in his hair.
“Case,” she breathed, his name sounding like a prayer on her lips.
He looked up at her face, struck by the openness there, the trust. A protective instinct flared so fierce inside of him that it nearly overwhelmed him. This wasn’t just about desire anymore. This was about sanctuary—giving her a safe harbor, if only for tonight.
His hands slid to the waistband of the sweatpants she wore, fingers dipping just beneath the elastic to trace the edging of her panties. “Tell me to stop,” he murmured against her skin, “and I will.”
“Don’t you dare,” she replied, voice husky and certain.
“Not here,” he murmured.
He lifted her, her legs and arms wrapping around him, and strode into the bedroom. He tossed her lightly on the bed and followed her down, his lips finding hers in the darkness. She welcomed him with a soft, urgent sound, her fingers already running over the broad expanse of his chest, fingertips skimming across the old injuries he bore like a map of his past.
He kissed her slowly this time, mapping every inch with his mouth—the slope of her neck, the curve beneath her ear, the hollow between her breasts. She arched against him, her breath coming faster, and he moved lower, pressing a line of kisses down her stomach until she trembled.
She whispered his name again, half-moan, half-plea, and he answered with a low growl, peeling the last of her clothing away. She was bare to him now, open and vulnerable, but she didn’t shy away. Her trust was a gift, one he didn’t take lightly.
He kissed his way down her body to take the tip of her breast in his mouth, sucking her deep into his mouth. She gasped and arched into him, her fingers tangling in his hair, tightening almost painfully, holding him in place. He tugged and twisted her other nipple with his fingers, teasing her, then he switched, as she writhed on the bed beneath him, her moans urging him on.
He skated his fingers down the soft skin of her stomach, sliding below the cotton of the sweatpants. She sucked in a breath, her skin quivering. He pressed a kiss to her soft belly and began drawing the gray cotton down her legs, kissing his way down her toned thighs. She lifted her hips to help him, hissing a little when he got to her injured ankle.
“You okay?”
“I’d be a lot better if you got up here and distracted me,” she replied.
He chuckled and tossed the pants aside, prowling back up to settled between her legs, wedging his shoulders between her thighs. She tugged his hair to pull him up and tried to close her legs but he held firm. He pressed his nose to the softness and inhaled her sweet arousal.
“Case!” She gasped, horrified.
“Let me enjoy my dessert,” he growled.
He peeled her soaked panties away and off of her then settled back to explore her. He spread her pink folds and took a long lick from her entrance up to her clit. She let out a strangled scream and arched off the bed, her hands pulling at his hair, but not to tug him away but bring him closer. He chuckled and thoroughly explored her, his tongue gathering every drop of her creamy arousal while his hands held her in place to keep her from wiggling away. He plunging one finger in her and then another, feeling her clench around him. He couldn’t wait to feel her around his aching cock. But first, she needed to come and stretch to be prepared for his size.
He added a third one, curling his fingers on the spot deep inside that made her gasp and scream, and sucked on her clit. She yanked his hair so hard he thought he might lose clumps of hair, then her scream echoed in his cabin as she came around his fingers, her arousal soaking his beard.
He shed the last of his clothes and settled over her, grabbing a condom from the side table and fitting it over himself. He let their bodies tangle slowly, his hands tracing over every part of her as if to memorize her. He waited until her gaze cleared and she focused on him. He kissed her deeply, absorbing her sigh. He notched his cock at her entrance, her cream soaking the tip of cock. He slowly entered her, the tightness of her channel making him grit his teeth at the pleasure being inside of her felt like. When he finally was fully seated, he stilled stilled, giving her time to adjust. She clutched his shoulders, her nails pricked his skin.
“Okay?” he asked, voice tight, breath warm against her cheek.
“So much more than okay,” she whispered, lifting her hips to meet him.
“Good girl,” he murmured, kissing her.
He drew back and thrust deep, groaning at the feel of her clenching around him, the scalding heat of her burning him, and her wetness easing his way. She wrapped her legs around him and matched his rhythm, urging him on until there was only the soft slide of skin against skin, the ragged sounds of their breathing, the whispered groan tumbling from their lips.
He kissed her like a man drowning, like she was the only thing anchoring him to the world. And maybe she was. Maybe she always would be.
When she finally shattered beneath him, he followed her over the edge, burying his face in her neck as every muscle in his body tensed, then let go. For long moments afterward, they stayed like that, tangled together in the dark, the storm forgotten.
She stroked his back in slow, soothing circles, and he pressed a kiss to her temple, his voice hoarse when he spoke. “You’re safe here, Gemma. I swear it.”
Her answer was a small, trusting sigh, her body curling into his. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Case shook his head slightly. “Don’t thank me for this,” he said, voice low and intense. “This wasn’t charity, Gemma.”
She let out a long, trembling sigh and curled into his arms, her body softening, her walls slowly falling. And she snuggled into his arms, falling into a deep sleep.
And for the first time in years, Case felt at peace.