2. Chapter Two
Chapter Two
Gage
T he last person I expect to find on my doorstep is Eden Blake.
But here she stands, snow dusting her golden hair, those honey-brown eyes wide and uncertain, like years haven't passed since we last saw each other.
My fingers curl around the doorframe, squeezing so hard the wood groans under my grip. A sharp splinter buries itself in my palm, but I barely feel it. Not when she's standing there, looking like that.
"You shouldn't be here." The words are harsh, but they need to be said.
I need to create distance before—
A violent shiver runs through her body, catching my eye.
Her soaked top, completely inadequate for mountain weather, does nothing to shield her from the bitter wind. The wet fabric clings to curves that have no business being this... this…
"Fuck," I grunt, squeezing the wood so hard a shard cracks and falls to the floor.
My jaw clenches and we both stop and stare at the splintered wood at our feet.
This isn't the gangly teenager I remember. The woman before me is all soft slopes and dangerous temptation, curves that make my mouth run dry and my hands itch to explore.
Her soft scent stirs memories of sunshine and innocence that have no place in my dark world. Every cell in my body screams to drag her inside, to claim what my primitive brain already sees as mine.
But I can't. I won't.
"Gage, I-I had nowhere else to go. I'm sorry." Her voice trembles, matching the chattering of her teeth. "My car—"
"Car? You were driving?" My eyes narrow, scanning her for injuries. "What the hell were you doing driving in this weather? Don't you listen to the fucking reports?"
She flinches at the harshness of my words and I instantly hate myself for being so goddamn hard on her.
"I-I needed to get to the next town. I had an interview."
I shake my head. "Fucking hell. How far did you walk in this?"
I look at her feet and she's wearing flats for Christ's sake. Flats!
"Three miles, maybe four?" She wraps her arms tighter around herself, and the movement draws my attention to places it shouldn't go. To the way her silk blouse has become nearly transparent from the snow. To the gentle swell of two perfectly rounded tits that weren't there the last time I saw her.
Fuck.
This is Daniel's daughter. My best friend's little girl. The one I swore to protect, not...
The storm howls louder, drowning out my internal war.
Eden sways slightly on her feet, exhaustion evident in every line of her body. I know I should turn her away. Send her back down the mountain, back to where she's safe. Where she's out of harm's reach. Out of my reach.
But even as the thought forms, I know I won't. Can't.
Daniel would never forgive me if I let anything happen to her. I'll never forgive myself for the thoughts already running through my head.
And that big fucking storm I'm talking about? Yeah, it's about to rear its ugly head any minute now.
"Fuck it. Get inside, and dammit, stop fucking shaking like that." The words scrape out of my throat like broken glass, but I step aside.
I snag her wrist and yank her inside. Her skin is ice-cold against my fingers, and something primal roars to life in my chest as she yelps at my sudden touch.
She stumbles past me, bringing that goddamn sunshine scent with her.
My nostrils flare, drinking it in before I can stop myself. Her wet clothes leave a trail of droplets on my hardwood floor, and my eyes follow each one like breadcrumbs leading to temptation.
"Wait here. I'll get you something dry."
I need distance. Need to get away from the sight of her nipples pressing against that transparent silk.
Need to remember who she is. Who I am.
I stalk to my bedroom, yanking open drawers and slamming them shut again just for something to ease the frustration simmering in my veins. My hands shake as I grab an old flannel shirt and sweatpants.
Fuck. What the hell do I do?
Broken men like me don't get second chances. We don't get redemption. And we sure as hell don't get innocent women showing up on our doorsteps looking like every dark fantasy we've tried to bury.
Daniel's face flashes through my mind. The way Eden's father looked that day, blood seeping through his chest. The way his eyes found mine, his last words a whisper. "Take care of her."
I'd failed him then. Failed to keep him alive as bullets rained down upon us.
And now his daughter's here, in my cabin, dripping wet and trembling. Looking at me like I'm something worth saving.
What she should know is that I should have died that day, not him. Why the hell am I still here? I have nothing, am nothing.
And worse yet, she doesn't know what kind of man I really am. The things I've done. The nightmares that wake me screaming, covered in sweat, reaching for weapons that aren't there.
This mountain, this isolation that I've forced upon myself… it's not a choice.
It's a sentence.
My penance for surviving when better men didn't.
The clothes in my hands smell like wood smoke and solitude. Like me. They'll swallow her whole, mark her with my scent.
The thought makes something dark and possessive curl in my gut.
Fuck.
But as I turn to head back into the living space of my cabin, another violent shiver wracks her body the moment I step into the room and her eyes connect with mine.
Without thinking, I reach out and cup her shoulder.
Christ, she's freezing.
"Stay by the fire." My thumb brushes across her collarbone, and the small whimper that escapes her lips shoots straight to my groin. "Don't. Move."
I take the stairs two at a time, my cock already hard enough to pound nails. This is going to be one long fucking night. I storm into my room and yank the blanket off my bed.
I return with the blanket and more clothes, my jaw locked so tight I taste copper. Eden stands exactly where I left her, trembling like a leaf in winter wind. The firelight catches every water droplet on her skin, turning them to liquid gold.
Damn her. Damn this whole situation.
My hands fist at my sides as I watch another violent shiver wrack her body. She's so fucking small, arms wrapped tight around herself like she might shatter if she lets go.
The wet silk of her blouse clings to curves that have no business being in my cabin, in my space, destroying what's left of my sanity.
Get her warm . That's all I need to focus on.
"Here." I toss the clothes onto the couch beside her and spin away, my body betraying me with every heartbeat. "Change. Now."
Her breath catches. "I—um—thank you."
"Bathroom's down the hall." The words scrape out of my throat. "Unless you expect me to turn around while you strip right here."
She clutches the clothes to her chest like a shield, but it doesn't hide the way her nipples peak against wet fabric. My hands itch to touch, to warm, to claim.
I shouldn't watch her move.
But I do. God help me, I do.
As she passes, her fingers brush my forearm. Just a whisper of contact. Innocent. Unintentional.
But it hits me like a bullet to the chest, my muscles coiling tight enough to snap. She has no fucking idea what she's doing to me.
I stalk to the kitchen the second she's out of my sight, yanking open the cabinet where I keep the whiskey. The bottle shakes in my grip as I pour a finger's worth into a glass.
Not enough.
I fill it to the brim and throw it back without thinking, welcoming the burn all the way to the pits of my gut. The empty glass hits the counter with a crack that echoes through the cabin.
My eyes slam shut, but the darkness offers no escape. It never does.
Daniel.
I see it all over again. Blood bubbling from his lips, staining my hands crimson as I pressed harder against the wound. His eyes locked with mine, already growing distant.
" Promise me ," he choked out. " Take care of her— "
The memory slices through me again. Eight years, and I still taste the same air I did that day, still feel his life draining between my fingers. Some promises weren't meant to be kept. Not by someone like me.
Soft footsteps whisper behind me.
I spin, and every muscle in my body locks up.
Eden stands in the doorway, drowning in my clothes. The flannel shirt hangs to her thighs, the sleeves rolled up countless times to free her hands. Her hair tumbles loose around her shoulders, still damp from the snow but looking like she's used my towel to dry it off slightly.
My throat closes up.
She looks soft. Vulnerable. Mine.
The thought hits like I've entered enemy territory. Because she isn't mine. Can never be mine. She's Daniel's daughter, for fuck's sake.
"Thank you for the clothes." Her voice is barely a whisper as she looks at me, a frown appearing across her pretty features. "Gage? Are you okay?"
No. I'm not okay. Nothing about this is okay.
"I'm fine." The words grind out between clenched teeth as I force myself to look anywhere but at her.
Eden's big beautiful eyes drift to the whiskey bottle, still uncapped on the counter. "Planning to share?"
I snap at her. "Eden! You're not fucking old enough to drink."
A soft laugh escapes her lips as she steps closer. Too close.
"I'm twenty-four, Gage." She reaches past me, her arm brushing my chest as she grabs my empty glass. "Not fourteen anymore."
My fingers twitch with the urge to grab her wrist, to stop her from pouring that amber liquid. But I'm frozen, watching as she tips the bottle to fill the glass a little too much for my liking.
"Besides," she adds, lifting the glass to those full lips, "I think we both need it, considering we're about to be stuck here for who knows how long."
The glass touches her mouth, and I swear I feel it like a brand on my own skin. A drop of whiskey clings to her bottom lip before her tongue darts out to catch it.
Christ.
I shift on my feet, forcing my attention anywhere else. The fire. The storm beyond the windows. The fact that she’s about to be stuck in my cabin for who the hell knows how long.
Right. That.
"You realize you’re not leaving tomorrow, right?" My voice comes out deep and dangerous.
She blinks, lowering the glass. “I figured.”
I lean back against the counter, folding my arms over my chest.
"That storm you walked through, it's not just some passing flurry. The valley roads are already shut down, I'm surprised you even got through. The mountain pass will be next—if it’s not buried in ten feet of snow already."
She stills, the weight of my words settling in. "How long do you think?"
I sigh, dragging a hand over my face. "At least three days. Maybe more."
A slow smile tugs at the corner of her lips, and damn if I don’t want to bite it off her. “Well, then. Think you can handle me being around that long?”
No . Absolutely fucking not.
I don’t answer her question. Instead, I grab the whiskey bottle and take another swig, straight from the fucking bottle.
"You'll take the bed," I say, ignoring the way she’s watching me, that glint of mischief flickering in her honey-brown eyes. "I'll take the couch."
She tilts her head, that tumble of golden waves brushing against my shirt—my fucking shirt—like she’s already wearing a piece of me.
"Gage… that couch is barely big enough for me, let alone someone your size."
She takes a step closer. Then another.
I swallow hard.
"You know… we can share—"
Nope. Not a chance in hell.
"Not happening, sunshine."
The words snap out and I realize I'm shaking my head like some kind of damn monk taking a vow of celibacy. Or worse… a man who actually thinks he’d survive a night in bed with her without doing something unforgivable .
Eden just hums, clearly enjoying this. "Why not?"
Another step.
"Afraid I'll bite?"
She thinks she's being cute, but just as the cheeky smile reaches her eyes, thunder crashes outside. A loud, deep, rolling growl that shakes the cabin walls around us.
Eden jumps. On instinct, she stumbles forward, her hands landing flat against my chest.
Every muscle in my body goes rigid and she flashes those gorgeously long lashes up at me.
I go to step back, but her weight holds me to the spot. Her hands trail lower, gliding over my stomach, dipping over the ridges of my abs, lower as her eyes drop to my lips.
"Gage…"
I swallow.
I shouldn’t be imagining how soft she’d feel under me, how tight, how sweet… how fucking perfect.
But then she says my name again, soft and breathless, like a plea, like a fucking prayer, and my restraint is hanging by a goddamn thread.
Her fingers skim lower, just a fraction, just enough to make my cock throb against the inside of my jeans.
Jesus fucking Christ.
My hands flex at my sides, fists clenching like that’s gonna stop me from reaching for her, from gripping her hips, spinning her around, and bending her over the nearest surface and taking what's mine.
I could take her right here.
Right fucking now.
Press her up against the cabin wall and wreck that sweet little body until she forgets she ever belonged anywhere but right here.
But if I take this further, there’s no stopping.
So I do the only thing I can.
I rip myself away from her so fast she nearly topples to the floor. She gasps, grabbing the counter to steady herself. Shock flickers across her face but I ignore her and turn away before it's too late.
“Go to bed, Eden.”
I turn, muscles tight as a tripwire, and storm the fuck out of the room, muttering curses under my breath.
At her. At myself. At the next three goddamn days.
Because I already know…
This is going to be the longest fucking storm of my life.