His hands find the hem of my shirt, and I help him pull it over my head, the fabric joining the growing pile on the floor. The firelight plays across my skin, and I watch as his gaze traces the heart-shaped birthmark on my breast, his finger following the same path.
“Perfect,” he murmurs, his voice thick with reverence that makes my chest tight with emotion.
I reach for the buttons of his shirt, my fingers working with practiced ease now. Each inch of revealed skin shows more of the tattoos that tell the story of his life. Some I recognize from before. Others are new, marking the years we spent apart.
“This one’s new,” I say, tracing a particularly intricate design that wraps around his ribs.
“Got it about two years after you left,” he admits, his breath hitching as my fingers explore the ink. “Needed something to focus on besides wishing I would’ve responded to that kiss.”
The admission catches me off guard, raw and honest in a way that Jesse rarely allows himself to be. I lean down and press my lips to the tattoo, tasting salt and skin and something uniquely him.
His hands are everywhere now, relearning the curves of my body with a reverence that speaks louder than any words he could say. When he rolls us over, positioning himself above me. The firelight catches in his dark hair, and I think I’ve never seenanything more beautiful than this man who’s claimed my heart twice now.
“Aubree,” he breathes my name like a prayer, and I arch up to meet him, our bodies fitting together like they were made for this, for each other.
The world narrows to just us—the crackle of the fire, the sound of our breathing, the whispered words of need and want that fall from our lips. He moves with a controlled intensity that sets my nerves on fire, each touch deliberate and claiming.
When I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, he groans against my neck, his beard rough against my sensitive skin. “God, Aubree. You’re going to be the death of me.”
“Good way to go,” I manage to gasp out, my nails digging into the muscles of his back as he finds that perfect rhythm that makes my entire world tilt on its axis.
He lifts his head to look at me, those green eyes dark with desire and something deeper, more dangerous. “Look at me,” he commands, and I do, even as my body threatens to fall apart beneath his touch. “I need to see you.”
So I keep my eyes locked on his as he takes us both over the edge, as my name falls from his lips like a benediction and his fills my throat in a cry that echoes off the cabin walls.
Afterward, we lay tangled together on the couch, my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat slowly return to normal. His fingers curl through my hair, and I trace lazy patterns on his skin, both of us reluctant to break the spell of intimacy that surrounds us.
“Jesse,” I finally whisper, my voice still hoarse.
“Mmm?” The sound rumbles through his chest.
“Be careful tomorrow. Please.” I lift my head to look at him, suddenly struck by how dangerous his world really is, how easily I could lose him again. “I know you can take care of yourself, but…”
He cups my face, his thumb brushing over my lower lip. “Hey. I’m not going anywhere, darlin’. Not again.”
“Promise me.”
“I promise,” he says, and there’s something in his voice that makes me believe him completely. “But you be careful too. Stay with Nora and Atlee. Don’t take any risks.”
I nod, though part of me chafes at being protected, at being seen as something that needs guarding. But I understand now that it’s not about my capabilities. It’s about how much I mean to him, how the thought of losing me terrifies him as much as losing him terrifies me.
“Jesse?” I trace the line of his collarbone, gathering my courage. “I need you to know something.”
He goes still beneath me, his hand pausing in my hair. “What?”
“I care about you. So much more than I should, probably. More than is smart or safe or logical.” The words tumble out in a rush, years of bottled-up feelings finally finding their voice. “I know we’re complicated, and I know your world is dangerous, but I?—”
He silences me with a kiss, soft and lingering and full of things he’s not ready to say out loud yet. When he pulls back, his eyes are soft in a way I rarely get to see.
“You think I don’t feel the same?” His voice is rough with emotion. “You think I’d be sending you away tomorrow if you didn’t mean everything to me?”
My heart stutters in my chest. “Everything?”
“Everything,” he confirms, his hand sliding down to rest over my heart. “You scared the hell out of me when you came back. I’d finally gotten to a place where I could function without the thought of those lips against mine, and then there you were, and I realized I’d just been going through the motions.”
I press my palm over his hand, holding it against my chest where my heart is beating so hard I’m sure he can feel it. “I love you,” I whisper, the words slipping out before I can stop them. We’ve said them before, but it was in an emotionally higher situation.
His sharp intake of breath tells me he heard them, and for a moment, panic flickers through me. Too much, too soon, too…
