Chapter Four
Duke
I wake to pre-dawn gray filtering through the windows. Trista is still asleep, curled against my chest, one hand resting over my heart. Her breathing is deep and even, peaceful.
I should probably ease away. Get up. Start the day. But I don’t move.
Instead, I watch her sleep and try to make sense of what I’m feeling.
I meant what I said last night. I don’t do this. Not like this. Not bringing someone to my home, into my space, into my bed within hours of meeting them. I’m careful. Deliberate. Slow to trust.
But with her, none of those rules seemed to matter.
From the moment I saw her frozen in fear on that slope, something in me recognized something in her. Not just attraction, though that hit hard and fast. But something deeper. Some instinct that said Pay attention. This one is special.
She shifts against me, making a small sound. Her eyes flutter open, unfocused for a moment before landing on me.
“Morning,” she says, voice rough with sleep.
“Morning.”
She doesn’t pull away. Just stays where she is, looking up at me with those storm-gray eyes. “Did you sleep?”
“Some.”
“Liar.” But she’s smiling.
I brush a strand of hair back from her face. “You?”
“Better than I have in months.” She pauses. “That probably sounds…”
“It sounds honest,” I say. “I like honest.”
She shifts, propping herself up on one elbow so she can see me better. The blanket falls away, and I have to force myself to keep my eyes on her face instead of letting my gaze drop.
“I should probably feel awkward right now,” she says. “Or worried about what this means. Or guilty for not feeling guilty.”
“But you don’t.”
“No.” She traces a finger along my collarbone, the touch light but deliberate. “I feel like I’m finally exactly where I’m supposed to be.”
Something in my chest expands at those words. “I know what you mean.”
“Do you?” She searches my face. “Because this is crazy, right? I don’t even know your last name. I don’t know where you went to school or what your favorite food is or if you’re a morning person. And yet…”
“And yet you’re here,” I finish. “In my bed. And it doesn’t feel wrong.”
“It feels right,” she whispers. “Which is the crazy part.”
I pull her down for a kiss, slow and thorough. She melts into it, hand splaying across my chest, and I can feel her heartbeat pick up against my skin.
When we break apart, she’s flushed, pupils dilated.
“We should probably get up,” I say, though I don’t want to.
“Probably.”
Neither of us moves.
She laughs, the sound bright and genuine. “We’re terrible at this.”
“At what?”
“Being responsible adults who make sensible decisions.”
I flip us, settling my hard cock between her thighs, and she gasps. “Who says I want to be sensible?”
Her legs wrap around my waist, pulling me closer. “Good answer.”
Later, after we finally drag ourselves out of bed, I make coffee while she showers. The sun is fully up now, streaming through the windows, turning everything golden.
I should be thinking about work. About the territory I need to check today, the reports I need to file, the routine tasks that make up the bulk of my job.
But all I can think about is her.
The way she laughs, genuine and unguarded. The way she responds to my touch, open and eager and present in a way that makes me want to give her everything.
It’s too fast. Too intense. I know that.
But I also know what I’m feeling. And I’m not good at lying to myself.
This isn’t just attraction. It’s not just chemistry or timing or loneliness.
This is so much more.
She emerges from the bathroom, hair damp, wearing yesterday’s clothes. Even rumpled and makeshift, she’s beautiful.
“Coffee?” I offer.
“Please. Black is fine.”
I pour her a cup, and we stand at the counter together, looking out at the valley. The view from here stretches for miles. Forest and meadow and mountain rising in the distance.
“I could get used to this,” she says quietly.
“The view?”
She looks at me. “All of it.”
My heart pounds in my chest. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She sets her cup down, turns to face me fully. “I know this is fast. I know we probably should slow down, be reasonable, think about what this means. But Duke… I don’t want to.”
“Neither do I.”
“I have to go back,” she continues. “To the city. To my job. My life is there.”
“I know.”
“But I don’t want to pretend this didn’t happen. Or that it was just a one-night stand. Because it doesn’t feel like that to me.”
I set my own cup aside, giving her my full attention. “What does it feel like?”
She takes a breath. “It feels like the beginning of something. And I want to see where it goes.”
Relief floods through me. “Good. Because I feel the same way.”
She smiles, that warm genuine smile that makes her eyes light up. “We’re really doing this?”
“If you want to.”
“I want to,” she says without hesitation. “I really, really want to.”
I pull her against me, and she comes willingly, fitting perfectly against my chest. This feels right in a way I can’t explain. In a way I’ve never felt before.
I’ve spent twelve years on this mountain. Twelve years of learning its patterns, understanding its rhythms. I thought I knew everything important about my life, about what I wanted.
But standing here with Trista in my arms, I realize I was wrong.
I didn’t know what I was missing until I found her.