Chapter 4 #2
Gus nuzzles my hand, and I pull him into my lap, hugging him tightly. “Davin will be back. He’s too tough to let anything happen to himself.” Despite the words of confidence, my core quivers.
Finally, I hear the hush of footsteps in fresh snow. My hold tightens on Gus, throat constricting as I eye the door nervously. The burly black-haired, bearded mountain man pushes through, locking the door against a great gust of wind.
I sigh with relief. “Everything okay out there?”
“Tree branch broke off under the weight of the snow. No footprints, no engine sounds, no signs of life.”
I swallow hard. “So … you don’t have to go back out?”
His jaw ticks like he doesn’t know what to say.
“Good,” I whisper. “Come sit with me. Please. I’m freezing.”
He hesitates. Then moves toward me.
A decision.
A surrender.
He sits. Pulls me against him again, closer this time, wrapping the blanket tightly around us both.
Heat. Breath. His heartbeat under my cheek. Everything inside me melts and combusts all at once.
“You’re freezing again,” he mutters.
“I’m fine,” I lie, snuggling closer.
“You’re not,” he growls softly. “Let me take care of you.”
“But if I let you…” My voice trembles. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to leave when I should.”
His grip tightens—barely, but enough to feel it.
“I don’t do shoulds, Princess.”
“Mateo’s going to hate you.”
“He already does.”
I laugh, shaky and breathless.
He leans closer, eyes on my mouth.
“You should be scared of me,” he murmurs. “I don’t know how to do gentle.”
“Gentle’s overrated,” I breathe, resting my fingers lightly against his hand.
He inhales sharply, like the touch burns him.
Everything spirals.
The air thickens. Desire pulses through me, self-control hanging by a thread. His cerulean eyes swirl with a newfound tenderness, his smoke and leather smell, his hard, muscular body. It’s all too much.
He pulls back an inch, says, “I can’t protect you … and touch you.”
“You already are.”
“But I’m too old for you. Too haunted by my past.”
“And I’m too young, too chaotic. Twenty-three and mired in trouble.” The corners of my mouth turn down.
“Nothing I can’t get you through,” he says like a pledge I want to believe.
I cock my head to the side, smile lopsided as I ask, “So, how old are you, anyway?”
“Thirty-five.”
“Perfect.”
Fire dances behind his eyes along with something else—wariness. “Why perfect? You got daddy issues or something?”
“No, I’ve got young, immature guy issues. More interested in playing video games in their mom’s basement than growing a pair.”
“Bad economy, tough times. Can’t blame ‘em for having trouble getting on their feet.”
“But you didn’t have trouble,” I counter.
“Not everyone’s cut out to be a Ranger, Princess.”
“Exactly,” I say, palming his thermal-covered chest.
He pauses for a long moment. The fire crackles, his breath comes slow and strong. Gus snores softly like a miniature locomotive.
“You gonna stick with me, though?” he finally asks gruffly. His words would knock me on my head if he weren’t holding me so tightly. “I don’t do casual, not with any part of my life.”
“Yes, I’m gonna stick with you.”
“How can you be so sure?” His eyes narrow.
I arch a brow, resolute. “Because I say what I mean and mean what I say. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”
“Sure have, but still…”
I wait, eyes on him. Finally, I break the silence. “If we’re doing honesty … your turn.”
“Just been hurt before. Cheated on by my fiancée while I was on a bad deployment. One that got some of my brothers-in-arms killed. Double whammy I never really got over. Decided I didn’t need to until a little spitfire walked into my cabin this morning.”
His thigh presses firmly into mine.
“A little spitfire that’s not like your ex.”
He touches my cheek. “Want to believe that, but…”
“But?”
“We’re moving too fast. You do this with every guy?”
The question is like a slap in the face. I go rigid, meeting his gaze with fire. “Absolutely not. I’m a virgin for heaven’s sake!”
I clasp my hand over my mouth. Part of me waits for him to laugh or pull away. “I’ve never said that out loud before,” I confess.
He freezes. All air leaves his lungs. “Arielle,” he whispers, tortured, “then, I really can’t.”
“Guess someone else will, then.”
His head snaps toward me. Eyes wild, possessive.
“Nobody else but me.”
It lands somewhere between a grunt and a growl. Possessive, fierce, the spark to my blood.
And then, he kisses me.
A hard, claiming, devastating kiss. His hand fists in my hair. My body melts against his. His mouth devours mine like he’s starved.
Fire explodes through me.
I cling to him, trembling, wanting more—so much more.
Then—
“Yeep!”
Davin pulls his hand back, shaking it with a grimace.
Gus snarls like a demonic marshmallow.
“Oh my God,” I breathe. “He bit you!”
Davin lifts his hand. Red indentations line his skin.
“Your gremlin just warned me to treat you well.”
He picks up Gus, holds him eye-level. My breath hitches in my throat.
“Listen, little devil. We both need Arielle. I won’t hurt her. You quit biting me.”
Gus pants happily.
Agreement reached.
Davin sets him down. Then turns back to me with a dark, hungry look that steals my breath. “Now,” he rumbles, pulling me toward him, “where were we?”
I smile, heart pounding.
“You were talking yourself out of wanting me.”
“And failing.”
His hands grip my hips.
“Never been good with words.”
“Maybe stop talking, then,” I whisper.
He growls—low, primal—and pulls me into another kiss.
The last thoughts that flicker through me are simple and undeniable…
This man. This moment. This fire. I’ll never survive him.
Maybe I don’t want to.