I turned my face away, shame burning my cheeks. “Please don’t?—”
“Who,” he growled, his voice dark and deadly, “put their hands on you?”
“It doesn’t matter,” I whispered, though my throat ached. “I’m here now. With you.”
“It matters,” he growled, his hand tightening protectively. “Because no one touches you like that and lives to tell about it.”
The dangerous promise in his tone sent a shiver through me. Fear and desire tangled in a way I couldn’t untangle.
Tears stung my eyes, but before they could fall, Lucas’s mouth claimed mine.
The kiss was fierce, all storm and fire, his body pressing me back against the wall like he couldn’t get close enough. His hand slid into my hair, angling my head so he could deepen the kiss, his tongue tangling with mine in a way that stole my breath and every rational thought.
I clung to him, fingers fisting in his shirt. Every line of his body screamed control, strength, and heat—so much heat.
“Lucas,” I gasped when his lips trailed down my jaw to my throat.
He growled low in his chest, the sound vibrating against my skin. “Say it again,” he demanded, nipping lightly at the spot where my pulse raced.
“Lucas.” My voice was shaky and breathless, but I gave him what he wanted.
His hands roamed, skimming over my hips, my waist, my sides, as though memorizing me. “You feel that?” His voice washoarse, almost broken. “That’s what you do to me, Sara. I’ve wanted this… wanted you… since the day we met.”
A whimper escaped me, and I hated how needy it sounded, but there was no hiding it. Not from him. Not when his body had mine pinned so perfectly, making me feel protected and desired all at once.
The storm outside howled louder, the walls of the bunkhouse trembling beneath its force, but inside this room, it was a different kind of storm. A dangerous, delicious one we’d been building toward for years.
Lucas’s lips found mine again, slower this time, his tongue teasing, coaxing, until my knees gave out and only his arms kept me standing.
When he finally broke the kiss, his forehead rested against mine. His breath came rough and uneven. “I’m not letting you go,” he swore. “Not now. Not ever.”
CHAPTER 6
Dice
The lights flickered once,twice, then cut out.
“Generator,” I muttered.
From the common room came chairs scraping and a few curses. The storm had backed off just enough to stop screaming and start grinding. Ice pellets ticked against the windows as the wind rattled the eaves. I grabbed my hoodie off the chair and tugged it over Sara’s shoulders.
“Stay here,” I told her. “Door locked. I’ll be ten minutes.”
Her fingers fisted in the hem of the hoodie like she wanted to argue, then she nodded.
I stepped into the hall. “I need a flashlight, a pry bar, and whoever didn’t lose feeling in their hands yet.”
Two men stood. The quiet new guy from earlier, Trippe, handed me a light. The other, Rook, already had gloves on.
We hit the mudroom, pulled on boots, and slammed into the cold. The generator shed crouched under a drift, snow curled over its roof like a wave. I kicked the latch free, popped the panel, and winced at the smell. Hot metal, cold fuel.
“Line’s frozen?” Trippe asked.
“Fuel’s fine.” I checked connections, swore, then leaned in with the flashlight. “Carb icing. And the choke’s half seized.” I dug the multi-tool from my pocket. “Hold the light. Count to twenty when I say.”
Trippe grunted. Rook watched, steady. I bled the line, worked the choke, and breathed out through my nose until the metal finally gave. “Now.”
Trippe counted slow. I primed, yanked, primed again, and the generator coughed awake, stuttered, then caught. The shed thrummed. The bunkhouse lights blinked back to life, warm squares in the snow.
