Chapter 6
SIX
TROY
The storm finally starts easing sometime after midnight.
Not enough to clear the roads. Not enough to make traveling safe. But the wind softens from violent to steady, snow no longer hammering the cabin quite so aggressively.
Still, neither of us sleeps.
I’m stretched out on the couch staring at the ceiling while the fire burns low in the hearth, trying not to think about the woman twenty feet away from me.
Not succeeding. At all.
Every time the bedroom floor creaks softly, my entire body goes alert. Every time I catch the faint scent of vanilla drifting down the hallway, I have to physically unclench my hands.
This is a bad idea.
Lying here thinking about London curled beneath my blankets while I freeze my ass off on a couch.
I scrub one hand down my face.
Jesus.
The bedroom door creaks open quietly.
I glance up.
London stands in the doorway wrapped in one of my flannels, soft curls falling around her shoulders in messy waves. Firelight flickers across bare legs and sleepy eyes, and for one dangerous second, all I can think about is dragging her straight into my lap.
“You’re awake,” she whispers.
“So are you.”
She shifts slightly against the doorframe. “The couch looks uncomfortable.”
“It’s fine.”
“That might be the first lie you’ve told me.”
I huff out a quiet laugh.
Her gaze lingers on me for a second before dropping toward the blanket twisted around my waist. Then back up. My blood heats instantly.
“London.” The warning in my voice only makes her step farther into the room.
“I can hear your teeth chattering from the bedroom.”
“They’re not chattering.”
One dark brow lifts.
“Terrifying outlaw,” she murmurs. “Taken down by hypothermia.”
Despite myself, my mouth twitches. She smiles softly like she caught it that time. Then her expression gentles.
“You can come to bed, Troy.”
Every muscle in my body locks up.
“London—”
“I’m serious.” Her voice turns quieter. More vulnerable somehow. “It’s freezing in here.”
The problem is, cold stopped being the issue the second she walked into the room wearing my shirt and looking at me like that.
Still, I force myself upright slowly.
“You sure?”
The fact that I ask seems to affect her. I see it happen in real time. Something cautious inside her easing slightly.
“Yes,” she says softly. “I’m sure.”
I follow her down the hallway feeling like a man willingly walking toward his own destruction.
The bed is small but warm from body heat and thick blankets. London climbs beneath the quilt before looking back at me expectantly.
After a moment of hesitation, I slide into bed beside her carefully, keeping distance between us even though every instinct I have is screaming to close it.
For a minute, neither of us speaks.
The mattress dips softly beneath our combined weight .
“Sorry,” she murmurs.
I turn toward her immediately. “For what?”
She blinks. “What?”
“You apologized.”
“Oh.” She shrugs slightly beneath the blankets. “Habit, I guess.”
Something about the way she says it twists hard in my chest.
“You apologize a lot,” I say quietly.
London stares up at the ceiling for several long seconds before answering.
“My ex used to hate when I took up space.”
The words land heavily between us. I stay silent. Not because I don’t care.
Because I do.
Enough that I already know if she says the wrong thing next, I might drive down this mountain tomorrow and introduce myself to her ex personally.
“He didn’t say it like that exactly,” she says softly. “At least not at first. It was more…” She laughs quietly, but there’s no humor in it. “‘Do you really need all this?’ ‘Why are you making such a big deal out of everything?’ ‘You’re too emotional.’”
Anger burns low and immediate in my chest. London keeps talking quietly into the darkness.
“I spent so much time trying to become easier. Quieter. Less work.” She swallows hard. “Eventually I think he got tired of me trying and just decided it would be simpler to buy me out of the business.”
Something sharp moves through me at the hurt she’s trying so hard to hide.
I roll onto my side before I can stop myself. “London?”
Her eyes lift hesitantly.
“You don’t have to make yourself smaller to deserve staying.”
The room goes completely still. London’s breath catches softly. The look on her face nearly undoes me.
“You really believe that?” she whispers.
“Yes.”
London studies me for a long moment before shifting closer beneath the blankets.
Then closer again. Until her hand settles lightly against my chest. My heartbeat kicks hard enough I’m pretty sure she feels it.
“Troy,” she whispers.
I swallow. “Yeah?”
“Kiss me.”
I’m done for.
I cup the back of her neck and kiss her slowly this time. Not desperate like before.
London melts against me almost instantly, soft sigh slipping into my mouth while her fingers curl into my back.
I roll her gently onto her back without breaking the kiss, settling between her thighs as the blankets tangle around us.
Every inch of her feels warm. Soft.
Perfect.
And the second my hand slides beneath the hem of my flannel on her body, she trembles.
“You okay?” I murmur against her mouth.
“Yes.”
I kiss her again anyway. Slower this time. Giving her room to stop me. Instead, her legs part farther beneath me.
My control snaps thread by thread while I drag my mouth down her throat, kissing the soft skin there until she gasps quietly.
“Troy—”
“Hmm?”
“When you do that, I can’t think.”
A rough laugh escapes me.
“Trust me,” I mutter against her pulse, “I’m having the same problem.”
She smiles against my mouth right before I kiss her again.
Then my hand slides higher beneath the shirt. And I finally touch bare skin.
My eyes close briefly. Soft curves. Warm stomach. Plush hips beneath my palms.
London sucks in a shaky breath when I kiss lower, pushing the shirt up inch by inch as my mouth follows. Every part of her is better than the last.
“Beautiful,” I say against her skin.
Her breath catches hard. “Troy…”
I look up to find her staring down at me with wide, vulnerable eyes.
Like she doesn’t believe me.
“You are,” I say roughly. “Jesus, London.”
Her fingers slide into my hair just as I kiss the soft curve of her stomach.
Then lower.
And lower.
Until I find the spot I know will fill her with the pleasure she deserves.
Every touch makes her softer beneath me. Less guarded. Like she’s slowly forgetting how to brace herself against disappointment.
And maybe that’s what finally wrecks me completely.
Not just wanting her.
Knowing someone made her feel unwanted before this.
I worship every inch of her like I can erase those feelings with my fingers and lips.
Her thighs. Her hips. The soft curve of her waist.
Every shaky sound she makes only drives me further out of my damn mind.
When I find her clit with my tongue, her hips buck up from the bed. Her fingers slide into my hair, urging me on. Holding me close as I make her fall apart, screaming my name.
By the time I drag my mouth back up her body, London is flushed and breathless beneath me. Her fingers dig into my back as her eyelids flash open.
“You look at me like I’m…” She swallows hard. “Like I’m something special.”
I press my forehead against hers. “You are something special.”
And this woman still has no idea who she is and what she does to me.