13. Riley
Riley
The silence in the cabin feels heavier than the storm ever did.
I stand at the small sink drying the last bowl, the cloth rough against my fingers.
He’s barely looked at me since we finished eating.
His broad back is turned toward me as he stacks wood by the stove, every movement precise and controlled.
The air between us feels thick and wrong, like the easy connection we had built over cookies and chess and his mouth on me has suddenly frozen solid.
I don’t like it. Not one bit.
Did I do something wrong? The thought loops in my head as I set the dry bowl down with a soft clink.
Maybe he regrets what happened earlier. Maybe touching me, tasting me, made him realize how inexperienced I am.
A virgin who’s never been with anyone. Maybe that’s why he’s pulling away now, all cold shoulders and short answers.
The idea makes my stomach twist. I’ve never felt wanted the way he made me feel when he had his head between my thighs, but now I feel small and uncertain again.
The generator hums steadily in the background.
Outside the wind has died down to a low moan, and patches of sunlight are breaking through the clouds, turning the snow into a glittering field.
The storm is easing, which should make me relieved, but instead it fills me with a different kind of dread.
Soon this cabin, this bubble with Mason, will pop. And I’ll have to leave.
I wipe my hands on the towel and turn toward him. He’s still stacking wood, muscles shifting under his flannel shirt with every bend and lift. The sight of him should make me feel safe, but right now it only makes the distance hurt more.
“Mason,” I say softly, my voice carrying that quirky lilt even though my heart feels heavy. “Did I do something wrong?”
He freezes mid-motion, a log halfway to the pile.
Then he sets it down slowly and straightens up, huffing out a long breath that seems to carry the weight of the whole mountain.
He turns to face me, those commanding eyes dark and conflicted.
The firelight dances across his rugged face, highlighting the tension in his jaw and the slight furrow between his brows.
“You’re doing everything right, Riley,” he says, voice husky and rough. “Too right. That’s the problem.”
I step closer, the wooden floor cool under my bare feet. “Then why are you being so cold? After what we did earlier… after the way you touched me… I thought…” My cheeks burn with embarrassment. “I thought you wanted me too.”
He runs a hand over his face, the rough stubble scraping against his palm.
“I do want you. Fiercely. More than I’ve wanted anyone in a long damn time.
But I know better. I shouldn’t cross that line with you.
You’re under my protection. You’re a witness.
Soon the storm will clear and you’ll go into WITSEC.
A new life. A new name. Somewhere I’ll never find you.
I can’t let myself get any closer when I know I’m going to lose you. ”
His words hit me like a physical blow. The emotions swirl through me, inseparable from the lingering ache between my legs that refuses to fade. I want him. I want all of him. The growly protector, the gentle man who dried my hair, the one who makes me feel protected and desired at the same time.
“But I want you too,” I say, stepping even closer until I can feel the heat radiating from his body. “I’ve never wanted anyone like this. You make me feel things I didn’t know I could feel. Wanted. Alive. Please don’t pull away from me now.”
Mason’s hands flex at his sides like he’s fighting the urge to reach for me. “It can’t happen, Riley. I won’t take advantage of you when you’re scared and vulnerable and depending on me to keep you alive. You deserve better than a quick fuck in a cabin before you disappear forever.”
The words sting. I feel my temper rising, hot and sharp, cutting through the hurt.
“Don’t tell me what I deserve. I’m not some fragile thing you need to protect from my own feelings.
I know what I want. And right now I want you.
All of you. Not just the protector. Not just the marshal.
I want the man who kissed me like he was starving.
The man who made me come so hard I saw stars.
Do not push me away because you think you know what’s best for me. ”
He stares at me, breathing hard, the air between us crackling with tension. The fire pops loudly in the stove, sending a shower of sparks up the chimney. I can see the conflict in his eyes, the way he wants me fighting against the walls he’s trying to keep up.
“It can’t happen,” he repeats, but his voice is rougher now, less certain. His hands twitch like he wants to pull me close.
I step right into his space, tilting my head up to meet his gaze. My heart is pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat. “Then tell me to stop. Tell me you don’t want me and I’ll back off. But don’t lie to me, Mason. Not after the way you touched me. Not after the way you made me feel.”
He doesn’t tell me to stop. He doesn’t say he doesn’t want me. Instead he stands there, towering over me, fists clenched at his sides, looking like a man barely holding onto his control. The chemistry between us burns hotter than the fire in the stove, charged and ready to ignite completely.
And for the first time since I stumbled into this nightmare, I feel powerful.