Chapter 6
T onya
Two months of working on the cottage had transformed more than just the building.
It had transformed me. My hands, once soft and manicured, now bore calluses from hammer handles and rope.
My arms had muscle definition I'd never possessed. Most importantly, I woke up each morning with purpose instead of dread. I blocked Michael’s number from my phone and drove to a dump across the state to get rid of my luggage and any tracking devices the psycho might have left in my things.
"When I met you, you were screaming into the void," Kevin said, watching me expertly measure and cut trim boards for the cottage windows. “Now, look at you.”
"When you met me, I was having a breakdown in designer heels," I corrected, fitting the piece perfectly into place. "That woman feels like a stranger now."
And she did. The frightened city girl who'd stumbled onto this mountain seemed like someone from another lifetime. This woman—covered in sawdust, wearing work boots and flannel, confidently using power tools—was who I'd always been underneath Michael's suffocating control.
We had transformed the cottage from ruin to habitable, though we still had weeks of finish work ahead.
His brothers worked long hours with us on the weekends even though Neil had logging contracts to fulfill, Shane had his EMT shifts, and Sam's wilderness guide business was picking up as skiing season ramped up.
"Dinner will be ready in ten minutes," Shane poked his head inside the house. The brothers had been taking turns cooking when we worked on the cottage, and tonight was Shane's famous chili.
"Be right there," I said. “I just want to finish this.”
Shane nodded and closed the door behind him.
“I suppose this can wait,” I said, moving my tools off the bench, but Kevin caught my arm as I started to move away.
"Not yet," he said, his voice rougher than usual. "I've been watching you work all day in those jeans, and I'm about to lose my mind."
Heat flooded my system at the hunger in his dark eyes. "Kevin, your brothers are right outside—"
"Then you'd better be quiet," he growled, backing me against the workbench. "Because I'm claiming what's mine right here, right now."
His mouth crashed down on mine with desperate need, his hands gripping my waist and lifting me easily onto the work surface. I wrapped my legs around his hips instinctively, pulling him closer as his tongue invaded my mouth.
"You drive me crazy," he muttered against my throat, his hands already working at the buttons of my flannel shirt. "Working beside me all day, bent over those boards, your perfect ass testing my self-control."
"Then take me," I whispered, surprised by my own boldness. "Right here. Right now."
He groaned at my words, his hands rougher now as he stripped away my shirt and bra. When his mouth found my breast, I bit my lip to keep from crying out as pleasure shot straight to my core.
"That's it, baby," he murmured against my skin. "Stay quiet while I worship this perfect body."
His hands made quick work of my jeans and underwear, leaving me naked and spread across my own workbench while he remained fully clothed.
The contrast should have made me feel vulnerable, but instead it made me feel powerful.
I could reduce this strong, controlled man to desperate need just by being myself.
"So wet for me," he growled, his fingers finding my slick heat. "Always ready for me, aren't you?"
"Always," I gasped, my head falling back as he worked me expertly. "Kevin, please—"
"Please what?" He added another finger, stretching me deliciously. "Tell me what you need."
"Your cock," I whispered, my cheeks burning with embarrassment and arousal. "I need you inside me."
He freed himself from his jeans with one hand while the other kept me on the edge, his thick length already hard and ready. When he positioned himself at my entrance, I could see the restraint it was taking him to go slow.
"Look at me," he commanded softly. "I want to see your face when I fill you up."
I met his eyes as he pushed inside, inch by thick inch, watching his expression darken with possession as my body stretched to accommodate him. When he was fully seated, we both fought to stay quiet despite the overwhelming sensation.
"My woman, in her cottage that she helped rebuild with her own hands. So fucking proud of you," he growled against my ear, beginning to move with deep, controlled strokes
His words combined with his movements sent me spiraling toward the edge embarrassingly fast. I bit down on his shoulder to muffle my cries as he claimed me thoroughly, marking me as his in the space I'd created for myself.
"Come for me," he whispered, his thumb finding my clit. "Come on my cock like a good girl."
I shattered around him, my inner walls clamping down as waves of pleasure crashed over me. He followed moments later, burying his face in my neck to muffle his own sounds as he emptied himself inside me.
"Christ," he breathed after we'd both caught our breath. "We just christened your workbench."
I laughed, still wrapped around him. "I'll never be able to look at it the same way again."
"Good," he said firmly, pulling back to meet my eyes. "Every time you work in here, I want you to remember who you belong to."
KEVIN
After dinner with my brothers, Tonya and I went back to my home and walked through the maple grove. The trees were tapped and ready for the season's first run, and I was looking forward to showing her this part of my world. But first, I had an important question for her.
I took a deep breath, knowing this conversation could change everything between us. "Move in with me. Officially.”
"Kevin..."
"I know you love the cottage. I know it represents your independence, and I would never ask you to give that up.
But my house is bigger, more comfortable.
You could keep the cottage as your workshop, your studio, whatever you want.
But I need you with me every night even when the cottage is finished. "
"Why?"
Admitting why meant revealing the depth of my damage, the extent of my need to control what mattered to me.
"Because I've lost everyone I've ever cared about," I said quietly. "Foster families, group homes, even some of my brothers for periods when life scattered us. I've never had anything permanent, anything I could count on staying."
I ran a hand through my hair, struggling to find the words.
"You make me feel like I finally have a home, not just a house.
But every night you're not under my roof, every morning I wake up and you're not there, this voice in my head will whisper to me that you're going to leave. That this is too good to last."
She was quiet for a long moment. "The cottage isn't about not wanting to be with you. It's about proving to myself that I can survive on my own. That I'm choosing you from strength, not desperation."
"I understand that. I do. But—"
"I need more time," she said gently. "The cottage is almost finished. Let me have a few weeks there, just to prove I can. Then we can talk about next steps."
It wasn't the answer I wanted, but I could see the determination in her eyes. She needed this victory, this proof of her own capability. I couldn't take that from her, no matter how much my protective instincts screamed otherwise.
"Okay," I said finally. "We can have this discussion then."
She kissed me softly, her hands framing my face. "I'm not going anywhere, Kevin. I'm not leaving you. I just need to know I could survive on my own if I had to."
The rational part of my brain understood. The primitive part that had been abandoned too many times wanted to throw her over my shoulder and lock her in my house until she forgot about needing anything beyond me. But that sounded like something that asshole Michael would do.
We were walking back toward the farmhouse when her phone rang with an unknown number. She didn’t answer, but her voice mail signaled that there was a message.
“I wonder who that is?” she said. “No one has that number.” She put the voicemail on speaker phone.
"Tonya, darling."
It was that bastard Michael.
“Shit. I blocked his number, but he must be using another phone.”
His voice was sickeningly smooth. "I hope you're enjoying your little vacation in the wilderness, because it's about to come to an end. I've been doing some legal research into your grandmother's estate. Very interesting reading."
I saw Tonya's face go white, and a cold dread settled in my stomach.
"That cottage? Your dear grandmother had some debts before she died—medical bills, property taxes. As your financial representative with power of attorney, I've been paying those obligations on your behalf. Funny thing about debt assumption. It creates legal claims against inherited property."
"This isn’t happening," she said.
"The cottage, the land, all of it technically belongs to me now. I've been very patient, letting you play house with your mountain man, but I think it's time you came home. Unless, of course, you'd prefer I exercise my legal right to evict you from property you no longer own."
The line went dead, leaving us staring at each other in horror.
Tonya sank down onto a fallen log. "The cottage. All that work. Everything."
"We'll fight this," I said fiercely, sitting down next to her. "We'll get lawyers, challenge the documents—"
"With what money?" she asked bitterly. "He controls all my accounts, remember? And legal battles take years. He knows I can't afford to fight him."
I held her as she shook with rage and despair, my own fury building to dangerous levels.
Michael wasn't just trying to control her anymore, he was trying to destroy her.
Take away the one thing that represented her freedom and independence.
The sanctuary she'd created for herself.
The physical proof that she was stronger than he'd ever given her credit for.
Over my dead body.
"Listen to me," I said, tilting her chin up to meet my eyes. "Whatever legal games he's playing, whatever documents he thinks he has, he's not taking your cottage. I'll mortgage my property if I have to, hire the best lawyers in Vermont. We'll fight this."
"Kevin, you can't—"
"Yes, I can. You're mine, which makes your battles mine. And I've never lost a fight when it really mattered."
But even as I said the words, I could feel the walls closing in around us. Michael wasn't just some controlling ex anymore. He was a threat with real legal power. And he was getting closer to taking away everything Tonya had fought to build.
The cottage might be almost finished, but our happiness felt more fragile than ever.