His voice is a tectonic plate shifting. Deep. Rough. Scraping against my nerve endings.
I look up into his face. The roar of the blizzard fades to a dull thrum. The cold vanishes. There is only him.
A jaw carved from granite, covered in a thick, dark beard. Rough to the touch. His hair is dark, wind-whipped, and wild. A scar cuts through his face, giving him a perpetually dangerous expression. But his eyes pin me to the seat. Dark, turbulent, burning with an intensity that feels like a physical touch.
He stares at me. His pupils dilate, swallowing the iris. He looks at me like a starving man who has just found a feast laid out in the snow.
My heart slams against my ribs, a frantic, trapped bird. A strange, hot current zips down my spine. A heavy throb ignites low in my belly, making my thighs instinctively press together. I should be terrified. This man is a predator. Everything about him screams danger. Giant. Biker. Brute.
But my soul doesn't scream run. My soul hums a vibration I’ve never felt in my twenty-four years. It whispers:Oh. There you are.
"My car died." My voice is a pathetic squeak.
He doesn't answer. His gaze drops, sweeping over me with tangible weight. He looks at my wide eyes, my trembling lips. Lower. To where my coat has fallen open. He stares at the swell of my breasts in my knit sweater. His jaw tightens. He isn't being polite. He’s assessing. Claiming.
He leans in. One massive hand grips the roof of my car, his bulk filling the doorway. The heat radiating off him is intoxicating.
"You shouldn't be here," he growls, eyes snapping back to mine. "Little thing like you. You'd freeze in an hour."
"I was just..." I trail off, unable to form a coherent sentence.
"Doesn't matter." He reaches in.
I flinch instinctively. He doesn't strike. His hand—calloused, scarred, enormous—wraps around my upper arm. Firm grip. Iron-hard. Shockingly gentle. He pulls. I unbuckle my seatbelt with shaking hands, my coordination failing.
"Come here," he commands.
I slide out of the car. My boots sink into the snow. As soon as I’m upright, the wind hits me, stealing my breath. I stumble, legs numb from the cold and the adrenaline crash.
I fall forward. I land against a wall of solid muscle.
He catches me. One arm bands around my waist, hauling me flush against his body. The impact knocks the air out of me. Rock hard everywhere. The hardness of his chest, the buckle of his belt pressing into my stomach, the sheer density of him.
I look up, craning my neck. The size difference is absurd. I’m not a small girl—curvy, hips that make buying jeans a nightmare—but next to him, I feel tiny. Delicate.
He looks down, face inches from mine. Snow catches in his beard, melting against the heat of his skin. His nostrils flare as he inhales. Smelling me. My sweat. My shampoo. My skin.
"Mine."
The word is a dark, heavy weight exhaled against my skin. It travels through his chest and into mine, settling deep in my marrow.
"What?" I whisper.
He doesn't repeat it. He shifts his grip. In one fluid motion, he sweeps me off my feet, lifting me into his arms as if I weigh nothing more than a snowflake. I gasp, wrapping my armsaround his thick neck to steady myself. The leather of his cut is cold and slick under my fingers. The man beneath it is infernal.
"Car's dead," he says, turning toward his truck. "You're coming with me."
"My luggage." My protest is weak. "My camera."
"I'll get it later. Right now, you need heat."
He carries me to the passenger side of his monster truck. He opens the door one-handed, balancing me effortlessly, then deposits me onto the leather seat. He leans in to buckle me up. For a second, he’s everywhere—his scent surrounding me, beard brushing my cheek, massive arm grazing my breasts as he pulls the belt across.
Sharp, electric heat zips to my chest. My nipples ache against the lace of my bra. I’ve never reacted to a man like this. I’ve dated boring, safe accountants who asked permission to hold my hand. I’m a virgin, waiting for... something. I didn't know what I was waiting for until this very second.
I was waiting for the storm.
He pulls back. Dark eyes lock onto mine one last time. He slams the door.
