“Like I’m finally home.”
Her smile is everything. She kisses me slowly, sweetly.
“Welcome home, Nathan.”
I pull her closer, tucking her against me under the blanket.
The quiet isn’t empty anymore, because she is here.
Chapter six
Katy
Morning light spills through the cabin windows in soft, pale ribbons. The snow outside stopped falling sometime in the night, leaving everything hushed and glittering. I wake slowly, wrapped in Nathan’s arms, my back to his chest, his breath warm and steady against the nape of my neck. One of his hands rests low on my stomach, fingers splayed wide like he’s still holding me even in sleep. His heartbeat thumps gently against my spine.
Everything feels right.
Too right.
It shouldn’t feel this right after one night. One dinner. One long, slow unraveling in front of the fire that left us both trembling and laughing and whispering things we probably weren’t supposed to say yet. My body still carries the memory of him—every careful touch, every reverent kiss, the way he looked at me like I was something holy when he finally slid inside me. I can still feel the stretch, the fullness, the way my name sounded in his throat when he came.
I shift slightly, testing the soreness between my thighs. It’s a good ache. A reminder that last night was real.
Nathan stirs behind me. His arm tightens, pulling me closer. A low, sleepy rumble vibrates through his chest.
“Morning,” he murmurs, lips brushing my shoulder.
“Morning.” I smile even though he can’t see it. “You’re warm.”
“You’re naked.” His voice is gravelly with sleep. His hand slides up my ribcage, thumb grazing the underside of my breast. “And soft.”
Heat blooms low in my belly. I arch just enough to press my hips back against him. He’s already half-hard. I feel him thicken against the curve of my ass.
“Careful,” he warns, but there’s no real heat in it. Only hunger.
I roll over in his arms so we’re face-to-face. His eyes are still heavy-lidded, hair mussed, beard a little wilder in the morning light. He looks like every fantasy I’ve ever had.
I cup his face. “I like waking up here.”
His gaze softens. “I like waking up to you.”
He kisses me then—slow, lazy, morning-soft. It deepens gradually until I’m sighing into his mouth, fingers threading through his hair. Every time he kisses me, the world narrows to his lips, his tongue, the steady press of his body against mine. Everything else, the doubts, the speed of it all, the quiet voice in my head that whispersthis is too fast, fades.
Because when he kisses me, I don’t care if it’s too fast. This feels meant to be.
We break apart only when Bear whines at the bedroom door, tail thumping against the wood.
Nathan groans, drops his forehead to mine. “He’s going to scratch the paint off if we don’t let him in.”
I laugh softly. “Let him in. He’s such a sweetheart.”
He rolls away, reluctantly, and opens the door. Bear bounds onto the bed like he’s been waiting years for permission. He noses my face, tail wagging so hard the whole mattress shakes.
“Hi, handsome,” I coo, scratching behind his ears. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you?”
Nathan watches us from the doorway, arms crossed, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “He really likes you.”
“I like him.” I look up at Nathan. “I like you more.”
