Chapter 11
Sarah
I woke to the sensation of my skull trying to split itself in half.
The pain was immediate and vicious—a throbbing that started at my temples and radiated outward until even my teeth ached. My mouth tasted like something had died in it, dry and cottony, and when I tried to swallow, my throat protested.
Oh God. What did I drink last night?
I kept my eyes closed, willing the headache to subside, but it only intensified. The light filtering through my eyelids was too bright, the blankets too heavy, the air too warm. Everything was too much.
And then I became aware of something else.
I was naked.
Completely, utterly naked.
My eyes flew open, and I immediately regretted it as the morning light stabbed into my brain. I squeezed them shut again, my heart hammering as fragmented memories began to surface.
The distillery. The tasting. Nine shots of moonshine that had tasted like candy.
The blonde woman hitting on Kael. My voice, sharp and possessive: "He's mine."
The alcove. The kiss. His hands on my waist, my fingers in his hair, the taste of salted caramel on his tongue.
The drive back. My hands roaming. His growl of warning. The way he'd grabbed my wrist and moved my hand away from—
Oh God.
The cabin. Me insisting I wanted him. Him refusing because I was tipsy. His offer to give me pleasure instead.
My face burned with mortification as more details came flooding back. The way he'd touched me. The way I'd responded. The sounds I'd made. The way he'd—
Oh my God.
I pulled the blanket over my head, as if that could somehow erase the memories. But they kept coming, vivid and detailed and absolutely, undeniably real.
And the worst part—the part that made my stomach flip and my thighs clench—was that they were good memories.
Really, really good memories.
I could still feel the ghost of his hands on my skin, the warmth of his mouth, the way he'd murmured my name like a prayer. The way he'd made me feel—desired, cherished, worshipped—in a way I'd never experienced before.
I wanted to be mortified. I was mortified. But I was also... intrigued.
And aroused.
And completely, utterly confused about what the hell I was supposed to do now.
The smell of coffee drifted into the bedroom, followed by the sizzle of something cooking. My stomach growled despite the nausea, and I realized I was going to have to face him eventually.
I just had to figure out how to do it without dying of embarrassment first.
I found my costume scattered across the floor.
I gathered it up, stashing it in the small wardrobe before pulling out my underwear, jeans and sweater—and pulled them on with shaking hands.
My reflection in the small mirror above the dresser was a disaster: hair tangled, mascara smudged, lips still slightly swollen from last night's kisses.
I looked like I'd been thoroughly ravished.
Which, technically, I had been.
Sort of.
I splashed cold water on my face from the basin, trying to pull myself together.
I could do this. I was a lawyer. I'd faced down corrupt sheriffs and hostile judges and clients who thought lying to me was a good idea.
I could handle one smug, probably shirtless Orc who'd given me the best orgasm of my life.
Multiple orgasms, my traitorous brain corrected.
I groaned and pressed my palms against my eyes.
"You okay in there?" Kael's voice drifted through the door, warm and amused.
"Fine!" I called back, my voice too high. "Just—give me a minute!"
"Take your time. Breakfast is ready when you are."
I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and opened the door.
Kael was standing at the stove, shirtless and barefoot, flipping eggs in a cast-iron skillet.
The morning light streaming through the window turned his green skin to jade, highlighting every ridge of muscle across his back and shoulders.
His dark hair was tied back in a messy knot, and he looked completely at ease—like he cooked breakfast in mountain cabins every day.
Like last night had been no big deal.
He glanced over his shoulder as I emerged, and his grin was absolutely wicked.
"Morning, sunshine," he said, his amber eyes dancing with mischief. "How's the head?"
"Fine," I lied, moving toward the coffee pot like it was a lifeline.
"Liar." He turned back to the eggs, but I heard the smile in his voice. "You drank nine shots of sixty-proof moonshine. You're definitely hurting."
"Twelve," I corrected before I could stop myself, then winced. "I mean—"
"Twelve?" He turned to face me fully, eyebrows raised. "I counted nine at the distillery."
"There were three more in the car—" I stopped, my face going hot. "Never mind."
His grin widened. "Oh, this is good. You snuck drinks in the car?"
"I didn't sneak—"
"You absolutely did." He was laughing now, and the sound made my chest tight. "No wonder you were so handsy on the drive back."
I poured myself a cup of coffee and took a long, scalding sip. The caffeine hit my system like a blessing, and I closed my eyes in relief.
"I'm fine," I repeated, more firmly this time.
"Uh-huh." He slid the eggs onto two plates, added toast, and turned to face me fully. His grin turned absolutely wicked. "You know, you were pretty insistent last night. Very... vocal about what you wanted."
My face went nuclear.
"I was tipsy," I said, lifting my chin. "You said so yourself."
"You were." He set the plates on the small table and leaned against the counter, arms crossed over his bare chest. "But you were also very clear about certain things. Like how I was yours. Remember that part?"
I wanted to sink through the floor.
"That was—I was just—she was hitting on you, and I—"
"And you got jealous," he finished, looking entirely too pleased with himself. "Possessive, even. It was adorable."
"I was not adorable," I snapped, setting my coffee down harder than necessary. "I was drunk and—"
"And territorial as hell." He pushed off the counter, moving closer. "
"She was being inappropriate—"
"She was." His voice dropped, losing some of its teasing edge. "And you made it very clear that I was off-limits. I liked it."
The air between us shifted, charged with the memory of what had happened after. My skin flushed hot, and I felt my pulse quickening.
"You would," I muttered, but there was no heat in it.
"What was that?" He tilted his head, grinning. "I didn't quite catch that."
"I said you're insufferable."
"That's not what you said last night." He stepped closer, close enough that I felt the heat radiating from his skin. "Last night you said I was 'stupidly handsome' and that my face was 'very distracting.'"
I groaned. "I was drunk—"
"You were honest." His amber eyes held mine. "And you told me exactly what you wanted. You asked me to show you. To teach you. And I did."
The memory of his mouth on me, his hands, the way he'd made me feel—it all came rushing back, vivid and overwhelming. My breath caught.
"I remember," I said quietly.
"Good." He reached out slowly, giving me time to pull away, and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "Because I meant what I said. My offer still stands."
I looked up at him, my heart hammering. "Kael—"
"No pressure," he said, his voice gentle. "But if you want more—if you want to explore this—I'm here. And I'm not going anywhere for the next few days."
"You're very confident," I said, trying to regain some control of the conversation.
"I'm very aware." His grin turned knowing. "I can smell your arousal, Sarah."
My face went hot again. "That's—you can't just—"
"Can't just what? Tell you the truth?" He leaned down, his mouth close to my ear. "You want me. And I want you. The only question is what you're going to do about it."
He stepped back and gestured to the table.
"Now eat your breakfast before it gets cold. You need food to soak up that hangover."
We ate in silence, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It was... charged. Every time I glanced up, I found him watching me with that same knowing smile, like he could read every thought running through my head.
Which, given his ability to scent arousal, he probably could.
The eggs were good. The toast was buttered perfectly. The coffee was strong and hot and exactly what I needed. But I barely tasted any of it because my mind was spinning.
My offer still stands.
I thought about what he'd said last night—about teaching me, about showing me pleasure, about making me feel things I'd never felt before. And he'd delivered. God, had he delivered.
But that had been... incomplete. A preview. A taste of something more to come.
And I wanted more.
The realization settled over me like a weight.
I was twenty-nine years old. I'd spent my entire adult life focused on my career, on building my practice, on proving myself in a world that half the time didn't take me seriously.
I'd dated occasionally, but nothing had ever progressed beyond a few awkward kisses and fumbling hands.
I'd told myself it didn't matter. That I was too busy. That the right person would come along eventually.
But the truth was, I was scared. Scared of being vulnerable. Scared of losing control. Scared of letting someone see the parts of me I kept hidden.
And then Kael had walked into my life—brash and infuriating and completely impossible to ignore. He'd challenged me, teased me, protected me. He'd seen through my armor and hadn't flinched.
And last night, he'd given me a glimpse of what it could be like to let go.
I wanted that. I wanted him.
But I also knew this couldn't be anything more than temporary. In two days, Dr. Atkins's report would clear Kael's name. In two days, we'd go back to our normal lives—me to my practice, him to his village. This was borrowed time, stolen moments in a cabin that didn't belong to the real world.
So why not take what I wanted while I could?
Why not let myself have this one thing, just for me?
The thought was liberating. Practical, even. I could satisfy my curiosity, gain experience, and walk away when it was over with no messy emotions or complicated entanglements.
It was perfect.
Almost too perfect.