Chapter 4
Ryder
I don’t know what’s gotten into me.
Don’t know why my blood is running hot enough to burn through every line I’ve drawn for myself.
Maybe it started the second she showed up at my door, all wide eyes and trouble I didn’t ask for.
Maybe it was the porch.
Snow in her hair.
That helpless little shiver running through her small frame.
And me standing there, jaw locked, thinking I had no right to touch her.
Telling myself not to even want it.
Then the cocoa.
The lights she strung up like she was stitching warmth back into a life I let go cold.
The way she looked in that ridiculous oversized sweater, glowing in the firelight, soft and sweet like she belonged in this cabin.
Maybe it was the cookies.
Maybe it was everything.
Because right now, sitting here beside her, staring into those eyes, I feel like the ground beneath me isn’t solid anymore.
She looks up at me.
Blue eyes wide.
Cheeks flushed.
Then she says it.
Soft. Clear. Like she’s cutting straight through me.
“I don’t want you to hold that line.”
My heart misses a beat.
She lifts her chin. Just enough. Brave. Barely holding herself together, but still asking.
“Please don’t hold it.”
I grit my teeth.
Fists tight in my lap.
That need rolls through me again. Thick, hot, and wrong in every way that feels right.
“Nikki…”
Her name scrapes out of me, low and raw.
I haven’t said anyone’s name like that in years.
Not since I stopped letting people matter.
She watches me like she’s standing in the middle of a storm and choosing not to run.
She should.
She doesn’t.
And I know—if I touch her again, it’s done.
There’s no rewinding this.
No undoing the taste of her.
The way her voice shakes when she says my name.
The way her body fits against mine like it was made to be there.
The man I’ve been would pull back.
But I’m not him right now.
I lift my hand.
Touch her cheek. It's soft. Warm.
She leans into it like it’s the only steady thing in the room.
“Nikki. If I cross this line…” I pause, watching her. Breathing her in. “…you’ll be mine.”
She doesn’t flinch.
Doesn’t look away.
I brush her bottom lip with my thumb, slow.
“When I take something as mine, I keep it.”
The words settle between us.
Thick. Heated. Final.
She whispers, barely loud enough to catch. “Ryder… please.”
This is it. This is the moment.
Every wall I’ve kept up crumbles. And all that’s left is her.
I reach for her. No hesitation. No second thoughts.
My hand slides to the back of her neck.
She draws in a breath and leans in. Like her body already knows what mine is about to do.
Our mouths crash together.
It’s not gentle. Not controlled.
It’s wild. Starved.
My kiss tells her what I haven’t said out loud.
She’s it. She’s mine. And she tastes so good.
Like firelight and comfort.
Like something I thought I didn’t need anymore but never stopped craving.
Her fingers clutch my shirt, pulling me closer.
That soft red sweater brushes against my arms, sweet and innocent while she kisses me like she wants to be undone.
I shift, pulling her into my lap. She gasps against my mouth.
I swallow the sound and keep kissing her. Keep taking.
She fits there. Like she belongs.
Small and warm and already under my skin.
“Nikki,” I growl, rough against her lips, “you have no idea what you’re doing to me.”
Her hands move up my chest. Trembling.
“Yes,” she whispers. “I do. I want—”
She falters. Then finishes it anyway.
“I want you.”
That breaks me.
I lift her without effort.
She wraps around me. Legs tight. Breath fast.
The bed is only steps away. I cross the distance in seconds.
Lower her down.
She lands softly, eyes wide, mouth still pink from our kiss.
I hover above her, arms braced. Everything inside me tight as wire.
“Nikki,” I say, voice low and shaking, “if I keep going, I won’t stop at just a kiss. You have to be sure.”
She reaches up. Fingers curl around my jaw.
“I don’t want you to stop.”
My pulse kicks hard. Every muscle in me locks down to keep from crushing her.
She asked. She meant it.
No fear. No games.
I lower my mouth close to hers, breathing her in.
“Sweetheart,” I murmur, “I’m not the gentle kind of mistake.”
“You’re not a mistake,” she says.
Something in me breaks wide open.