Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Nora
His mouth ruins me instantly.
That’s the first coherent thought I have after kissing Rhett Maddox, after storming across his cabin determined to prove a point and finding myself pinned between his body and the edge of the kitchen counter instead, breathing him in like I’ve wanted this longer than I’m willing to admit.
Because I have.
God, I have.
The kiss turns rough almost immediately, all the tension we’ve been building for days finally snapping hard enough to leave me dizzy. Rhett kisses like he does everything else, controlled until he decides not to be, and then suddenly there’s nothing restrained about him at all.
His hands grip my waist firmly, pulling me tighter against him until I can feel every inch of him, solid muscle and heat and the dangerous edge of a man who’s spent his entire life holding himself back.
“You sure about this?” he asks against my mouth, voice rough.
It’s probably the first reasonable thing either of us has said in days.
I should answer carefully. Instead, “You talk too much.”
A low sound rumbles out of his chest, almost a laugh, and then he kisses me again harder for being smart enough to mouth off to him when he’s already halfway gone.
The cabin feels smaller now. Hotter.
Every nerve ending in my body wakes up at once as Rhett’s hand slides slowly up my back, fingers spreading wide like he’s learning me through touch alone.
Nothing about him feels hesitant anymore.
Not the way he holds me. Not the way he looks at me.
Not the way his body crowds mine until there’s nowhere left to retreat.
Not that I want to.
That’s the problem.
“You’re staring again,” he murmurs against my lips.
I swallow hard. “You’re distracting.”
“Good.”
God.
The confidence on this man should be illegal.
My fingers tighten in his shirt automatically as he kisses down the side of my jaw slowly enough to make my knees weak. His beard scrapes lightly against my skin, rough in a way that sends heat straight through my stomach.
“You know what your problem is?” I breathe.
“I’ve been told there are several.”
“You act like you already own every room you walk into.”
His mouth brushes my throat. “Usually do.”
“That’s not attractive.”
“Liar.”
I hate how quickly my body betrays me around him.
Because he’s right.
Every inch of me reacts to him instantly now, my pulse jumping the second he gets close, my breathing turning uneven whenever his hands settle on me like they belong there.
Like I belong there.
That thought should scare me more than it does.
Rhett pulls back just enough to look at me, his eyes dark and focused in a way that nearly steals the air from my lungs completely.
“There she is,” he says quietly.
“What?”
“That look.”
I try to glare at him. “You’re annoyingly observant.”
“You’re flushed.”
“It’s warm in here.”
“You’re gripping my shirt hard enough to wrinkle it.”
My hands loosen automatically.
Rhett catches both wrists immediately, pinning them lightly against his chest before I can pull away completely.
“Didn’t say stop.”
Heat flashes across my skin so fast it’s humiliating.
The power dynamic between us shifts constantly, not because he forces it, but because he notices everything. Every reaction. Every hesitation. Every tiny crack in my composure.
And somehow that makes me want to push him harder.
“You always this bossy?” I ask.
“Only with you.”
“That doesn’t concern you at all?”
His gaze drifts over my face slowly. “Not even a little.”
The honesty in that answer hits harder than it should.
Nobody’s ever wanted me this openly before.
Men have wanted pieces of me. The smart mouth. The ambition. The challenge. But Rhett looks at me like he wants all of it, every difficult, guarded, sharp-edged part I usually keep locked down tight.
It’s terrifying.
It’s intoxicating.
And I’m losing control of this situation faster by the second.
Rhett’s hand slides into my hair slowly, gripping just enough to tilt my head back for him.
“Still thinking?” he murmurs.
“Someone has to.”
His mouth curves slightly. “You’re overthinking.”
“I’m standing in a mountain cabin making out with a growly caveman who tracks my movements like a feral park ranger.”
“You forgot the part where you like it.”
I open my mouth to argue.
Nothing comes out.
Because he’s right again.
The smug look in his eyes says he knows it too.
“I hate that you keep doing that,” I mutter.
“Doing what?”
“Being correct.”
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “You really hate it.”
The teasing edge in his voice only makes me want him more, which feels deeply unfair.
Rhett kisses me again slower this time, deliberate enough that every touch feels intentional. His hands move carefully over my body like he’s trying to memorize me, reverent in a way I never expected from someone this rough around the edges.
That’s what gets me.
Not the possessiveness.
Not the control.
The care.
The way he touches me like I matter.
Like losing me would wreck him.
The realization hits hard enough that I pull back suddenly, breathing uneven.
Rhett’s eyes sharpen instantly. “What?”
Nothing.
Everything.
Panic crawls up my spine so fast it almost feels like fear.
Because this stopped being casual already.
Somewhere between the stalker and the storm and the way this man watches me like I’m something worth protecting, I stopped wanting temporary.
And that’s dangerous.
“Nora.”
I shake my head once, trying to clear it. “This is moving too fast.”
Rhett studies me quietly for a long second. “You want me to stop?”
The worst part is I know he would.
Immediately.
No manipulation. No guilt.
Just that dangerous, steady control he carries around like a second skin.
And somehow that makes this harder.
Because I don’t want him to stop.
“I didn’t say that.”
“No,” he agrees softly. “You didn’t.”
His thumb brushes my jaw slowly, grounding and distracting all at once.
“You’re thinking about leaving,” he says.
I blink. “Excuse me?”
“You get overwhelmed and your first instinct is distance.”
I hate how exposed I feel around him sometimes.
“You don’t know everything about me.”
“No.” His eyes lock onto mine. “But I know that.”
The cabin falls quiet except for the storm outside and the crackling fire behind us.
Rhett steps closer again, slower this time.
Careful.
Like he’s handling something he actually values.
“You wanna know what the problem is?” he asks quietly.
“What?”
“I’m already past the point where this is temporary for me.”
The words hit so hard my pulse stumbles.
He says it so plainly.
No games.
No hesitation.
Just truth.
“Rhett…”
“I wake up thinking about you.” His gaze doesn’t leave mine.
“I track your movements because if something happens to you, I’ll lose my damn mind.
Every time you walk away from me, my first thought is whether you’re safe.
” His jaw tightens slightly. “And when that guy touched you in town, I wanted to break his hand for it.”
Heat floods my chest so intensely it almost hurts.
“That’s not healthy,” I whisper weakly.
“No,” he agrees. “Probably not.”
I should run.
Any sane woman would.
Instead, I’m standing here staring at a man who looks at me like I’m already essential to him, and all I can think about is how badly I want him to kiss me again.
“You fall hard, huh?” I murmur.
Rhett’s mouth curves slightly. “You have no idea.”
God.
The honesty in him is lethal.
I’ve spent my entire adult life around polished men who hid behind charm and strategy and careful words. Men who liked me best when I stayed composed and independent and emotionally manageable.
Rhett doesn’t want manageable.
He wants all of it.
The messy parts too.
And somewhere deep down, I think I’ve wanted that longer than I realized.
“You’re staring,” he says quietly.
“I’m concerned.”
“About?”
“How much I like you.”
That gets a real reaction out of him.
Something shifts visibly in his expression, something deeper and rougher and almost disbelieving before it settles into certainty.
Then he steps forward and wraps one arm around my waist, pulling me against him again like he physically can’t help himself anymore.
“Yeah,” he murmurs against my mouth. “That’s becoming my favorite problem too.”
I laugh softly despite myself.
The sound seems to undo something in him completely because Rhett kisses me again immediately, slower now, consuming instead of desperate.
And this time when I melt into him, when my hands slide up his chest willingly, when I let myself imagine what staying here might actually feel like, the thought terrifies me enough to make my chest ache.
Because I’m not just losing control anymore.
I’m starting to want to.