With a shuddering breath, I let it all rush out. How I came home to find my dad slumped on the sofa, not breathing. The grief. The gut-wrenching letter from the bank after he passed. Losing our home, the company, my job, and everything else Dad spent his life working for. Thorne listens as the words tumble out of me, his expression giving nothing away.
“The only thing the bank couldn’t take was this place,” I say, clumsily wiping my tears. “It’s all I have left. I came here because I wanted to sell my share to you. But I…I don’t deserve it.” My heart squeezes tight, aching beneath my rib cage. “You’ve put all this work in and made this place your own. I’m sorry…I-I should never have come here.”
The sobs are choking me now. My throat is thick, nose streaming as I get up from the table. I feel so stupid for breaking down like this. I need to get away. Hide in the bathroom until I can face Thorne. But I’ve barely taken two steps before I hear him stand up, his hands gripping my waist from behind. He spins me around to face him.
“Aria, listen to me.” His eyes are stormy and urgent. “I’m not gonna lie to you. When you first showed up, yeah, I did think those things. I was pissed off. Couldn’t understand why a citygirl with money would come out here just to claim a share of this place.”
His grip tightens on my waist.
“I didn’t know the full story,” he says. “Had no idea you’d lost everything.”
“It’s my fault for not telling you.” I force myself to breathe slowly. “I just…I didn’t want you to feel like I was guilting you into anything.”
Thorne nods, his brow creasing. “I get it. But hell, truth is, the circumstances don’t change anything. This cabin is half yours, half mine. Always was. Neither of us earned it—we inherited it—and I don’t have any more claim to this place than you do.”
“But you put in all the work?—”
“My choice,” he says firmly. “Didn’t have a gun to my head. The fact I fixed this place up doesn’t make it any less yours. I know that. Hell, I knew it from the start. But I was pissed off about it and took it out on you.” He runs a hand through his russet hair, agitated. “I’m sorry, Aria. I was an asshole. I fucked up.”
“You had every right to be angry…”
“No, I didn’t. And I definitely didn’t have the right to take it out on you.” He lifts a hand to my face, rubbing away my tears. “I don’t think you’re a spoiled brat. Don’t want you thinking that even for a second, okay? I think you’re sweet and kind and tough as hell.”
My heart lifts, some of the tension seeping from my body. My sobs have faded into quiet sniffs and hiccups, and Thorne wipes away the last of my tears.
“Thank you,” I tell him, my voice thick. “It means a lot to hear you say that.”
“I should have said it sooner.” His eyes are still fixed on me, his fingers brushing a lock of hair behind my ear. “Still gonna call you princess, though.”
I chuckle. “As long as I can still call you caveman.”
“Deal.”
I smile up at him, but my throat is starting to go dry. Now that I’ve stopped crying, it’s hard to ignore how close we’re standing. Thorne towers head and shoulders above me, his hands still tight on my waist. We’re inches apart, his burly chest still exposed, dark ink snaking across his muscles. He smells like woodsmoke and spices, tinged with the antiseptic ointment I used on his scratches, and I breathe him in with a shaky breath.
Suddenly, it feels way too hot in here.
Too close.
I should step away from Thorne. Break eye contact. But I don’t move as he inches closer. So close I can feel his rough beard against my chin, his breath ghosting against my lips. His dark green eyes are flecked with gray, cutting straight through me.
“Princess…” he murmurs. “Tell me to stop.”
My breath catches, but I don’t say a word.
Thorne snaps. His gaze drops to my mouth, dark and hungry. Our lips brush, just barely, my heart thumping wildly at the contact. Then Thorne growls low and crushes his mouth to mine.
There’s nothing gentle about it. He kisses me like he’s staking his claim, lips rough and urgent. His hand slides up to the back of my neck, curling against my skin, holding me exactly where he wants me. I melt against him. My hands cling to his shoulders, head spinning as I kiss him back.
I want this. So badly.
All the tension inside me is finally bubbling over. My body pulses with it, shuddering as Thorne slips his tongue between my lips. I gasp into his mouth, and he swallows the sound witha guttural moan that goes straight through me. He tastes like whiskey and maple syrup, his hot tongue sliding against mine until I’m breathless.
My back hits the edge of the table. Thorne breaks our kiss, and I feel his arm reach behind me, fanning across the tabletop as he impatiently shoves our empty plates away. One of them smashes to the floor. Thorne doesn’t seem to notice. He’s too busy laying me down on the solid oak—flat on my back.
“You’ve been torturing me, princess,” he growls, standing over me. “Driving me fucking crazy.”
My breath catches. I stare up at him, sprawled and helpless beneath his hulking frame. There’s a savage glint in his eyes. It reminds me of the mountain lion, staring me down as it approached, ready to devour me. Only this time, I’m not afraid.
