“Everyone needs protecting sometimes. Even the strong ones. Especially the strong ones.”
Her breath catches again, that small hitch that tells me I’ve landed on a truth she’s been denying. She looks away, back to the fire, and I give her the space to sit with it.
The storm howls outside. Inside this cabin, we’re insulated from everything.
“I should probably get some sleep,” she says, but she doesn’t move.
“Bedroom’s through there.” I nod toward the door behind me. “Take it. I’ll sleep out here.”
“I can’t take your bed.”
“You can and you will.” I stand and move to the closet, pulling out extra blankets and a pillow. “I’ve slept on this couch more times than I can count.”
“Davin—”
I turn to face her, and the protest dies on her lips. “You’re exhausted. You need real sleep in a real bed. This isn’t negotiable.”
She studies me, then her shoulders drop. “Okay.”
I show her to the bedroom. It’s simple, clean, the bed I built from oak with my own hands. I set fresh towels on the dresser and step back. “Bathroom’s through there. Everything you need should be in the cabinet.”
She stands in the doorway, looking small and curvy in the space, and a possessive heat flares so hot in my throat I have to shove my hands in my pockets to keep from reaching for her.
“Thank you,” she says quietly. “For all of this.”
“You don’t need to thank me.”
“I do, though. Most people wouldn’t—” She stops herself. The hesitation carries history.
“I’m not most people.” I hold her gaze. “And you’re not a burden, Tilly. Not to me. Not ever.”
Her throat works. She blinks rapidly. “I should sleep.”
“Yeah. You should.”
She steps into the room and starts to close the door, then pauses. “Davin?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m glad you shut down the auction.”
The words carry a weight I didn’t expect. Before I can think better of it, I cross the threshold into the bedroom. She goes still, her hand on the door, her eyes wide as I approach. I stop close enough that she has to tilt her head back to meet my gaze.
“So am I,” I say, my voice low and rough.
Her lips part on an inhale. I lift one hand slowly, giving her time to step back, to tell me no. She doesn’t move. My palm cups her jaw, thumb brushing across her cheekbone. Her skin is soft and warm under my touch. Her eyes flutter closed for a heartbeat before opening again, darker now, waiting.
I lower my head and kiss her.
Slow. Deliberate. Grounding her with the pressure of my mouth against hers. She makes a sound low in her throat. Her hands come up to grip my forearms, fingers digging in through the fabric of my shirt. She doesn’t push me away. I angle her head with my hand and deepen the kiss just enough to taste coffee and apples and something sweet underneath.
Her body sways toward mine. My free hand goes to her soft waist, steadying her, and the curve of her hip under my palm wakes up my cock.
I force myself to pull back, stopping before my control breaks and I take more than she’s offering. Her eyes are still closed, her breathing uneven, her fingers still gripping my arms.
“Get some sleep,” I say, my voice rougher than before.
Her eyes open slowly. “Davin—”
