She stood slowly, her eyes locked on mine. “Then stop protecting me like I’m temporary.”
My breath caught. I’d been trying to protect her body without claiming her heart because I’d been afraid of what claiming would do to her. To us. To the lines I’d crossed and the rules I’d broken. But there was no rule left that mattered more than her.
“You’re not temporary,” I said, my voice rough.
Her eyes filled again, and she didn’t look away this time. “Then choose me.”
I didn’t hesitate. “I already did.”
She stepped into me, her hands fisting in my shirt, and I held her close enough that her heartbeat thudded against my chest. For a long moment, she just stood there, letting herself be held.
Then her voice came out muffled against my shoulder. “I hate that I need you.”
I pressed my mouth to her hair. “I don’t.”
She tipped her face up, those gorgeous brown eyes searching mine. “What if this ends and you… you go back to being a man who keeps people at arm’s length?”
I swallowed. “You won’t let me.”
Her breath hitched.
“I’m not good at halfway,” I admitted. “I’m not good at casual. I’m not good at pretending I can touch you and not want more.”
Her cheeks flushed, and her gaze dropped to my mouth for one heartbeat before lifting again. “Neither am I,” she whispered.
I kissed her then. Slow at first, because the ranch was still on alert, and I wasn’t going to let desperation turn into recklessness. But the second her hands slid up my shoulders and her body pressed into mine, control turned into a thin, fragile thing.
She kissed me back with all the fear she’d swallowed and all the hope she’d been afraid to claim. It wasn’t the hungry rush of a moment stolen in danger. It was a decision.
When we broke apart, she rested her forehead against my chest. “Promise me,” she whispered.
“What?”
“That you’ll let me build a life,” she said. “Not just hide. Not just survive.”
I held her tighter. “I’ll help you build it.”
She nodded once, like that was the only thing she needed to hear.
Outside the cabin window, the ranch lights glowed steady in the dark. Radios crackled softly. Men moved in the distance, doing what they did best. But inside, with her in my arms, something in me finally settled.
The storm wasn’t done. Not yet.
But for the first time, we were both ready to acknowledge she’d never stand in it alone.
CHAPTER 11
MARISOL
The ranch didn’t sleepthat night. It tried. I could feel it settling into its bones the way land always does after a long day. The cattle quieted. The horses shifted into their stalls. The wind rolled through the pasture like a hush moving over a room.
But the men didn’t rest.
I stayed awake in the bed all alone, listening to radios murmur outside and boots move across gravel. Every now and then, headlights swept past the window as a truck drove the perimeter. The sound should have made me anxious. Instead, it made me feel safe.
Caleb had left an hour earlier to meet with the task force. He’d kissed my forehead before he went, his mouth warm and steady against my skin.
“Get some sleep,” he’d said. “I’ll be back before you know it.”
