I felt it start—the flutter, the tightening, the way her thighs locked around me. I kept the pressure on her clit steady, let her ride it out, watched her fall apart on top of me.
When she came, she cried out my name—sharp, broken, beautiful. Her walls clamped down so hard I saw stars. I finally let go, letting out an even louder cry as I came inside her.
Finally, I stilled, breathing hard, still buried deep. She felt like heaven. Like home. Like everything I hadn’t known I was missing.
After a long minute, I let out a low chuckle, nuzzling into her neck.
“Maybe we should finish the drive to the cabin,” I murmured against her skin. “Get you in my bed. Do this right. Slow. All night.”
She laughed softly, the sound vibrating through both of us where we were still joined.
I kissed her temple, wrapped both arms around her, and held her close. “Hold on, sweetheart. We’ve got all the time in the world.”
5
ELSA
Iwoke up wrapped in warmth.
Briggs’s arm was heavy across my waist, his chest pressed against my back, his breath slow and even against my hair. Sunlight streamed through the cabin windows, painting golden stripes across the rumpled sheets. For a long moment, I just lay there, letting myself feel it—the safety, the comfort, the unfamiliar sensation of waking up next to someone and not wanting to be anywhere else.
Then reality crept in, the way it always does.
Preston was still out there. Still in Wildwood Valley, probably staying at the inn, rehearsing whatever speech he’d prepared to win me back. The thought made my stomach tighten.
But it wasn’t just Preston that had my mind spinning. It was the man behind me. The man who’d called me his in front of a stranger, who’d held me through the night, who’d touched me like I was something precious.
What if this wasn’t real?
The thought surfaced before I could stop it. Briggs was a firefighter. He rescued people for a living. And I’d literally thrown myself into his lap like a damsel in distress. What ifthat’s all this was? Some protective instinct that would fade once the crisis was over and he realized I was just…me?
I’d spent eight months being Preston’s project. Eight months of him trying to mold me into the woman he thought I should be. The idea of going through that again—of being someone’s good deed instead of someone’s choice—made it hard to breathe.
Briggs stirred behind me, his arm tightening around my waist. “You’re thinking too loud,” he mumbled against my hair.
Despite everything, I smiled. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.” He pressed a kiss to the back of my neck. “But I can tell you’re worrying about something by the way you tensed up. Just tell me what’s wrong.”
I should have brushed it off. Said I was fine. But something about this man made me want to be honest in a way I’d never been with anyone.
“I need to know this is real,” I said quietly.
He went still. “What do you mean?”
I turned in his arms so I could face him, even though part of me wanted to hide. His dark eyes were soft with sleep, his hair mussed. He looked rumpled and warm and entirely too good to be true.
“You rescue people for a living,” I said. “And I showed up in your lap like some kind of crisis. How do I know this isn’t just…instinct for you? Some protective thing that’ll fade once Preston’s gone and you realize I’m not actually in danger?”
Something shifted in his expression. Not offense—understanding. Like he could see exactly where the fear was coming from.
He sat up, pulling me with him until we were facing each other on the bed. His hands found my face, tilting it up until I had no choice but to meet his eyes.
“Elsa. Listen to me.” His voice was rough, earnest. “I’ve been watching you for weeks. Before last night. Before Preston. Before any of it.”
My breath caught.
“You want to know why I was sitting alone at that table last night?” he continued. “Because I couldn’t watch my friends be happy anymore without wanting what they had. And every time I tried to picture it—a woman, a future, a life—all I could see was you. The quiet bartender who never pushed, never pried, just made everyone feel like they belonged.”
