Chapter 19-Tank
My heart’s still pounding.
Not just from what we did—but from what it means.
This moment? This is it.
Where it all starts.
Her and me.
Dani’s trembling in my arms, skin flushed, her breath ragged against my chest.
I reach for the blanket, wrapping it around both of us as the fire crackles beside us, our only source of light and warmth now that the power's out.
She shifts like she might try to move away, maybe to rebuild that damn pillow wall or hide behind some invisible shield she thinks will protect her from how real this just got.
Not happening.
I pull her closer instead.
Gently. But firmly.
Like I mean it.
Because I do.
“I’ve got you, Sweetheart,” I murmur into her hair as I reach for the roll of paper towels we casually left on the floor after we ate dinner. Then, I softly clean her skin.
My hands are careful, reverent. She shivers—maybe from the cold, maybe from me—but she doesn’t argue.
She lets me take care of her.
That’s new.
And I swear, I won’t take it for granted.
Not ever.
I hold her tight against me once we’re clean and bundled up, my arms around her back, one hand on her hip, the other splayed protectively across her belly.
Like it belongs there.
Because it does.
She rests her cheek against my chest. Her breathing slows.
I feel her lashes flutter closed, and the tightness in her body starts to ease.
Her walls—those unspoken ones—begin to fall away like the snow outside.
She thinks this is temporary.
Just a storm.
Just a weekend.
Just this.
But she’s wrong.
Because I’ve made up my mind.
Dani McNally is mine.
And not just for now.
Not just for Thanksgiving.
Forever.
I’ll work for it.
Wait for it.
Fight for it.
Whatever it takes.
I’ll make her see I’m not going anywhere.
And as the storm rages outside, as the fire crackles low and the shadows dance across her beautiful face, I press a kiss to her temple and hold her even closer.
“I’m not letting you go,” I whisper into the quiet, knowing she won’t hear it.
Not tonight. Not ever.
Sleep comes easy for the first time in a long time, and I know it’s because of her.
I’m not worried about anything.
She’s warm and soft and in my arms.
This feels so right. Perfect. Comfortable.
I’m a little groggy but happy and in all the best ways.
Dani’s breath fans over my chest, her legs tangled with mine, her soft curves molded perfectly to my side like she was built for me—and yeah, she was.
Last night wasn’t a dream.
Thank God.
The fire’s died down to glowing embers, but I don’t move.
Not yet.
Because this right here? Waking up with her in my arms?
This is everything. And I’m seriously contemplating the best way to maneuver so I can slide between her thighs and have myself a little breakfast when—BANG BANG BANG.
“WAKE UP, FUCKO! I come to rescue you!”
I bolt upright, nearly throwing Dani off me in the process.
“What the actual hell?” she mumbles, grumpy and adorable, pulling the blanket up over her bare chest.
More banging.
Now with the unmistakable growl of a snowplow backing up right outside.
I know that voice.
I know that smirk behind it, too.
It’s my asshole brother.
Koa.
I groan and scrub a hand down my face.
“Is that your brother? And oh my God, Luca Warden, and Coach Dane!” Dani blinks gazing at the three behemoths shoveling a path from the front door to the road where a giant truck is plowing snow.
She winces when more pounding rattles the front door.
“Yep. That’s my brother, and my coach and teammate,” I mutter darkly. “And I might just murder all of them today.”
She giggles—and God, I didn’t think I could get hard again after the last twelve hours, but the sound of her laughing in my bed?
That does it.
“Tank!” More banging. “Don’t make me break down the damn door! I had to bribe the road crew and buy my own goddamn plow attachment just to get up here!”
“Don’t you dare open that,” Dani hisses, clinging to my arm like it’s a life raft and yanking the blanket up to her chin. “I’m naked.”
“I’m aware,” I say with a groan, half in pain, half in awe. “Painfully aware, Sweetheart.”
She smacks my arm, cheeks going that perfect flushed-pink I’ve come to crave, and laughs.
It’s soft and breathy and straight-up lethal to my self-control.
More pounding. This time followed by a shouted, “Don’t make me climb in through the damn window!”
I sigh dramatically and reach for my sweats.
“Shut up, bruh! I swear, if you don’t stop banging on that door, I’ll tell Mum you’re the one who broke her favorite planter!”
Dani blinks. “You’ll tell your mum?”
“What? He knows better than to stop being afraid of our mother.” I shake my head, stepping into my sweats. “Besides, if he doesn’t quit it, I’ll bury him in the snow. They’ll find him next spring and wonder why the plow bounced off his frozen arse.”
Another round of obnoxious knocking.
“Come on, bruh! I brought coffee!” Koa calls, like that’s supposed to sweeten the deal.
“And bacon!”
I freeze.
Mid-shirt pull.
Dani arches a brow, arms crossed under the blanket.
“You’re not actually tempted.”
“I mean?” I glance toward the door like it’s whispering sweet porky nothings. “It is bacon.”
She chucks a pillow at me.
I catch it one-handed, smirk, and lean in to kiss her hard.
Her squeal gets swallowed by my mouth, and for a second, I forget there’s a very loud and very annoying brother outside.
Then I break the kiss, reluctantly.
“We’ll be right there, mate!” I shout. “Hold your bloody horses!”
I glance back at Dani, who’s biting her bottom lip like she’s doing math.
Probably calculating how to get from bed to clothes to dignity without mooning the entire rescue party.
I see her dilemma.
So I lean out and bellow, “Get the fuck away from the house so Dani can get dressed!”
“Bloody hell!” comes Koa’s muffled reply. “Didn’t know you were that far gone. Sorry, Miss PR Lady! I’ll avert my eyes!”
“Oh my God!” Dani cries, burrowing deeper into the blanket. “Now they know I’m naked!”
“Well, yeah.” I shrug. “But they’re all married or good as. And terrified of you because you can make them look like the washed up sorry old men they truly are online! You’ll be fine.”
“I heard that! And I ain’t that old!” Koa barks from outside.
She narrows her eyes at me like she’s debating whether or not to kill me and make it look like an accident.
Still, she stands, dragging the blanket with her like some sexy-ass burrito, then starts hopping into her clothes with all the grace of a woman being watched.
I don’t watch.
Okay.
I do watch.
Every. Damn. Second.
Because she’s cute.
She’s chaotic.
She’s everything.
And I’m already so far gone for her, it’s not even funny.