Chapter 3
three
. . .
Beck
I wake up in an unfamiliar bed, my body aching in places I never knew could ache.
The sheets smell like pine and musk—like him.
Gray. Memories of last night flood back in a rush of heat and shame.
His hands everywhere. His mouth claiming mine.
The filthy things he whispered while buried deep inside me.
The way I begged for more, wrapping my legs around his waist to keep him close.
What the hell is wrong with me? I don't know this man—this bounty hunter who's been stalking me for weeks—and yet I gave him my virginity on his couch less than an hour after he carried me into his cabin.
Sunlight streams through half-drawn curtains, illuminating a bedroom that's spartanly furnished but clean. A dresser. A nightstand. A chair where my clothes—now dry—are neatly folded. I'm wearing one of his t-shirts, the fabric swimming on my frame, hanging to mid-thigh.
I don't remember putting it on.
The ache between my legs throbs as I sit up. I feel different—claimed in some primal way that should terrify me. It does terrify me. But there's something else too. A warmth in my chest I don't recognize.
The bedroom door opens, and there he is—all six-foot-five of pure muscle and intensity.
Gray fills the doorframe, wearing nothing but low-slung jeans, a steaming mug in his hand.
My eyes trace the map of scars across his chest and abs before I can stop myself.
He catches me looking and smiles, a predatory curve of lips that sends heat straight to my core.
"Morning, baby girl."
That name again. The one that makes me melt.
I pull the sheet higher despite the t-shirt already covering me. His lip quirks up and no wonder. Here I am trying to cover my nudity after he was literally inside me last night.
He sets the mug—coffee, from the smell—on the nightstand and sits on the edge of the bed. The mattress dips under his weight, sliding me fractionally closer to him.
"We need to talk," I manage, trying to sound stern despite the way my body is already responding to his proximity.
"Talk." One massive hand lands on my blanket-covered knee, and even through the layers, his touch burns.
I take a deep breath. "You said you know about the mix-up with the bounty. That I'm innocent."
"You are."
"Then why am I here? Why not just tell the authorities? Clear my name?"
Gray's dark eyes narrow. "You think I haven't tried? The system's fucked. Clerical errors take weeks, sometimes months to fix. Meanwhile, every lowlife with a pair of handcuffs will be hunting you."
"So what, I just stay your prisoner until it's resolved?"
"Not my prisoner." His hand slides up from my knee to my thigh, the heat of his palm searing through the blanket. "My responsibility."
I scoot back until I hit the headboard. "Stalking me for weeks isn't taking responsibility. It's creepy. Illegal."
A flash of something—anger? shame?—crosses his face. "I did what I had to do to keep you safe."
"By watching me without my knowledge? How many times, Gray? How many times did you follow me home? Watch me through my windows?" My voice rises with each question. "Did you watch me change? Shower?"
"No." His answer is instant, firm. "I protected your perimeter. Made sure no one else was watching you. There's a difference."
I want to believe him, but the intensity in his eyes makes me wonder what else he's capable of. "Let me go, Gray. I'll take my chances."
"No." Simple. Final.
"You can't keep me here."
"I can. I will." He leans forward, those massive arms caging me in. His face hovers inches from mine. "You've been running scared for months. Looking over your shoulder. Never feeling safe. I'm offering you protection."
"At what cost?" I whisper.
His eyes drop to my lips. "You already paid last night. And from the sounds you made, baby girl, you enjoyed the payment."
Heat floods my cheeks. "That was—I wasn't thinking clearly."
"You were thinking clearer than you ever have." His voice drops to that gravelly register that makes my insides quiver. "Your body knew what it needed."
I push against his chest, needing space to think. He doesn't budge. "I need to leave. I have a job. A life."
"A life of running. Of fear." His hand cups my face, surprisingly gentle for such a brutal man. "Not anymore."
Something in me snaps. I duck under his arm and scramble off the bed, making a break for the bedroom door. I don't have a plan beyond that, but I need to try.
The cabin's main room is just as I remember from last night—open kitchen flowing into a living area, the couch where he—where we—God, I can't even look at it. I spot the front door and lunge for it.
Locked. Of course it's locked. I fumble with the deadbolt, fingers clumsy with panic.
Strong arms wrap around me from behind, lifting me off my feet. "Where you going, little girl?"
I struggle against his hold. "Let me go!"
Gray spins me around, pressing me against the door, his hips pinning mine in place. One hand captures both my wrists, raising them above my head.
"Such a brave baby girl," he murmurs, and despite everything, those words send a shiver of pleasure through me. "Fighting so hard."
"I don't belong to you," I insist, but my body betrays me, arching into his touch as his free hand slides under the t-shirt I'm wearing, finding bare skin.
"Your mouth says one thing." His fingers trace upward, ghosting over my ribs. "But your body says another." He cups my breast, thumb brushing over the nipple until it pebbles. "Look how responsive you are for me."
I bite my lip to keep from moaning, but a small sound escapes anyway.
"Let me show you something," he says, releasing my wrists but keeping me caged against the door with his body.
To my surprise, he reaches past me and unlocks the deadbolt. The door swings open, revealing the porch and the dense forest beyond. Freedom.
"Go," he says, stepping back slightly. "If that's what you really want."
I stare at the open door, confused. "You're letting me leave?"
"I'm showing you a choice." His voice is quiet now, almost gentle. "Run back to your life of fear. Or stay here, where you're safe. Where you're wanted."
I take one hesitant step toward the door, then another. The morning air is cool on my skin. Three more steps and I'd be on the porch. Five more after that and I'd be in the yard.
But something stops me. The thought of going back to jumping at shadows. Of sleeping with one eye open. Of never knowing when the next bounty hunter might find me.
And something else. The memory of Gray's hands on my body. The way he made me feel. Protected. Desired. Mine. The word whispers through my mind.
I turn back to find him watching me, his expression unreadable. Something twists in my chest at the sight of him—this mountain of a man who could break me in half but touched me last night like I was precious.
"I need a shower," I say finally.
Relief flashes across his face before the mask of control slips back into place. He nods, closing the door and locking it once more.
I pad across the cabin to where he points out the bathroom. It's small but clean, with a glass-walled shower stall. I turn on the water, letting steam fill the room as I remove the t-shirt—his t-shirt—and step under the hot spray.
I've barely wet my hair when the shower door opens. Gray stands there, gloriously naked, his cock already half-hard against his thigh.
"What are you doing?" I ask, though the answer is obvious.
"Making sure you don't try to escape through the bathroom window." A smirk plays at the corner of his mouth as he steps into the shower with me, his broad frame instantly making the space feel tiny.
Water sluices down his muscled chest, highlighting every scar, every ridge of muscle. I should cover myself, protest, push him away. Instead, I stand frozen as his eyes devour me.
"Look at you," he growls, hands settling on my hips. "So wet for Daddy."
That word again. Daddy. It should disgust me. Should make me run. Instead, my knees go weak.
"I'm not—this isn't—" I stammer, but then his mouth is on mine, swallowing my protests.
He presses me back against the cool tile wall, lifting me effortlessly until my legs wrap around his waist. His cock slides against my center, finding me already slick despite the water.
"Tell me to stop," he challenges, teeth grazing my earlobe.
I should. God help me, I should.
"Don't stop," I whisper instead.
He enters me in one smooth thrust, and I cry out at the delicious burn of being stretched around him again. My body remembers him from last night, welcomes him back like he belongs there. Maybe he does.
"That's it," he praises as I adjust to his size. "Taking me so well, baby girl."
His hips start a punishing rhythm, each thrust pushing me higher up the shower wall. Water streams between our bodies, making everything slick and hot. I cling to his shoulders, nails digging into hard muscle.
"Gray," I moan as he hits something deep inside me that sends sparks through my veins.
"Say my name," he demands, one hand sliding between us to find my clit. "The one you called me last night when I was buried in this tight pussy."
I shake my head, embarrassment flooding me at the memory.
He slows his thrusts to an agonizing pace, barely moving inside me. "Say it."
"D-Daddy," I whisper, the word setting off fireworks in my lower belly.
"Again." He rewards me with a deep thrust that makes my vision blur.
"Daddy!" Louder this time, shameless.
He growls his approval, his pace turning frantic. "I'm gonna pump you full of my seed right here," he promises, his voice a dark rasp against my ear. "Fill this perfect pussy until you're dripping with me all day."
The filth of his words pushes me closer to the edge. I should be horrified. Instead, I'm desperate for it.
"Please," I beg, not even sure what I'm asking for anymore.
"Please what, baby girl?" His thumb circles my clit mercilessly. "Tell Daddy what you need."
"Please fill me up," I gasp, shocking myself with the words. "Make me yours."
That's all it takes. With a roar, he slams into me one final time, his release hot inside me. The feeling of being claimed so completely tips me over, and I follow him into blinding pleasure, my body milking every drop from him.
As we catch our breath, foreheads pressed together under the cooling spray, a terrifying thought crystallizes through the haze of pleasure: I might never want to leave this cabin. Or this man.
And that scares me more than any bounty hunter ever could.