“That was different.” The defense sounds weak even to my ears. “That was about the farm.”
“Was it?” He pours wine into waiting glasses with elegant precision. “Had nothing to do with proving a point about commitment? About staying power?” His eyes meet mine over the rim of his glass. “About permanence?”
Heat crawls up my neck that has nothing to do with the cabin’s warmth. “You’re a manipulative bastard, you know that?”
“Takes one to know one.” The words carry no heat, just quiet acknowledgment that makes something twist in my chest. “We’re both playing games, Taylen. Have been since Burlington. Maybe it’s time we stopped pretending otherwise.”
I move closer, drawn by some force stronger than anger or pride. “Is that what this is? Another game?” My hand sweepsto indicate the intimate table setting, the wine, the music still playing softly in the background. “Another move in whatever chess match you think we’re playing?”
“No games.” He sets his glass down with deliberate care. “Not anymore. You gave me permanent residents for my farm. I’m giving you permanent access to my space. Seems like a fair trade.”
“There’s nothing fair about this.” My voice drops lower as the distance between us shrinks. “You don’t get to walk away from kissing me—twice—then act like giving me a key makes everything okay.”
“I walked away because I was drunk,” he counters, moving to meet me in the middle of his kitchen. “Because you were angry. Because we’ve spent seven years turning attraction into ammunition, and I wanted to do this right for once.”
The admission lands like lightning, charging the air between us. “This?” I gesture between us, close enough now to see the flecks of silver in his hair, to smell cologne and wine and something uniquely him. “What exactly is this, Bastian?”
“You tell me.” His voice carries challenge and invitation in equal measure. “You’re the one who showed up at my door. Used the key I gave you. Walked into the trap you claim I set.”
The laugh that escapes me sounds slightly wild. “Yeah, the trap. You knew exactly what you were doing when you left that key. It’s all an elaborate setup to get under my skin.”
“Get under your skin?” He moves closer until I can feel the heat radiating from his body. “That’s rich coming from you. You’ve been driving me wild since the day I came back. The goat, the chickens, the beehive, and even going along with my brother’s plan to host the Christmas Festival here. Every perfectly calculated move designed to prove I don’t belong here.”
“That’s not?—”
“Isn’t it?” His eyes hold mine with dangerous intensity. “Baby, you’ve had me twisted up in knots for weeks. Hell, for years, if I’m being honest. Every look, every argument, every moment you let your guard down just enough to remind me what I’m missing. So the question is, what are you going to do about it?”
The endearment makes my breath catch. “Don’t,” I warn, but it comes out more like a plea than a protest. “Don’t act like you know what I want.”
“But I do know.” I take another step closer, eliminating what little space remains between us. “Same thing you wanted in Burlington. Same thing you wanted the other night in your living room. Same thing you want right now.”
His certainty should make me angry, should make me want to prove him wrong. Instead, it sends heat pooling low in my stomach, making my skin prickle with awareness. “You’re awfully sure of yourself.”
“No.” He shakes his head slightly, close enough that I can see his pupils dilate. “I’m only sure of this thing that’s been burning hotter than a wildfire in the summer. Of the way you look at me when you think no one’s watching.”
The words hang between us. “And how exactly do I look at you?”
His smile turns dangerous. “Like you want to fuck me or kill me. Sometimes both at once.”
“Maybe I do,” I say, like it’s a dare. “Maybe that’s the problem.”
His breath catches slightly, the only indication that my words affect him. “The only problem,” he says carefully, “is that we’ve spent years running from something we both want. And I’m tired of running.”
The declaration lands like a challenge and a confession. We stand in his kitchen, breathing the same air, both of usswaying slightly with the gravity of what’s building between us. Every heartbeat feels like a countdown to something inevitable, something years in the making.
“Prove it,” I challenge, my voice rough with need and fear. “Prove you’re done running.”
His eyes darken at the words, pupils blown wide with want that matches my own. The moment stretches between us like a wire pulled too tight, threatening to snap at any second. When he speaks, his voice carries edges sharp enough to cut. “Make me.”
The space between us vanishes as we move together, my hands finding his hair while he grips my hips with bruising force. Unlike the first two, this kiss is all teeth and tongue and years of wanting compressed into a single point of contact.
Bastian’s mouth opens against mine immediately, hot and demanding as his hands slide beneath my shirt. The touch of skin on skin sends electricity through my system, making me arch closer.
I use the grip on his hair to adjust the angle of our kiss. He makes a low sound in his throat, a growled surrender that goes straight to my core. The vibration of it travels through every point where our bodies connect, turning want into desperate need.
“This what you wanted?” I manage between kisses, the words coming out more breathless than challenging. “This why you gave me that key?”
His answer comes in the form of teeth against my bottom lip, the slight pain shooting straight to my groin. Then his mouth travels lower, finding the sensitive spot below my ear that makes my knees threaten to buckle. “I’ve wanted you for so long,” he murmurs against my skin.
