A sob tore out of me before I could stop it.
Hall was at my side in an instant, the hot chocolate forgotten. He stood there awkwardly for a moment, hands hovering like he didn’t know what to do with them. Then, slowly, carefully, he sat down beside me and pulled me into his arms.
He was so gentle. That was what undid me. This massive man with shoulders like a mountain and hands that could crush stonewas holding me like I was made of glass. Like I was somethingprecious.
I buried my face against his chest and cried. They were ugly, heaving sobs that I couldn’t control.
He didn’t say anything. Didn’t try to shush me or tell me it would be okay. He just held me, one hand stroking my hair, his heartbeat steady against my cheek.
Then a realization hit me like a thunderbolt. I feltsafe. Safe in this stranger’s arms in a way I hadn’t felt in years. Maybe ever.
It didn’t make sense. Iknewit didn’t make sense. This was trauma bonding, adrenaline, and the intensity of the situation warping my emotions. I knew all of that.
But I couldn’t stop myself from pressing closer and breathing him in. Wood smoke and pine and something underneath that was spicy and full of life.
Eventually, my sobs quieted. I lifted my head, meaning to pull away, to apologize for falling apart on him.
But I didn’t.
Our faces were inches apart, mouths too close for strangers.
His eyes were dark in the firelight, fixed on mine with an intensity that made my breath catch. I could feel the warmth of his exhale against my lips, and I saw the moment his gaze dropped, just for a moment, down to my mouth.
My heart pounded. The air between us felt electric, charged with something I couldn’t name. I leaned in, just slightly, drawn to him like a moth to flame, ready to give this maneverything.
He groaned and pulled back.
The world felt cold without his warm embrace. I clutched at him, trying to bring him back to me, but he stood abruptly, putting distance between us.
“You need rest.” His voice came out rough. “First, let me clean your feet.”
Then he dropped to his knees and pulled my feet out of the bucket, gently drying first one and then the other with an old, ratty towel.
My heart pounded while he did this, my libido pulsing to its beat.
Once my feet were dried, he applied some medicated cream on them, rubbing it in softly, careful every time I winced. While he did this, silence wrapped around us, but I was aware of his eyes taking in the curve of my calves, the hem of my nightgown. It was an intimate act, and I felt wildly, wonderfully, and totally cared for.
When he was done, Hall stood up. With a strained growl, he said, “Let me get you something more to wear.”
I sat there, stunned, as he disappeared into what I assumed was his bedroom. My lips tingled with the ghost of a kiss that never happened.
What was wrong with me? My house had just burned down, and I was thinking about kissing a stranger?
Hall returned with a flannel shirt, red and black plaid, soft from years of washing. “This should work for tonight,” he rumbled. “We’ll deal with everything else in the morning.”
I took it from him, our fingers brushing, and he jerked his hand back as if I’d burned him.
“Bathroom’s through there,” he announced gruffly, pointing towards the only door in the cabin that didn’t lead outside. “You can have the bed. I’ll take the couch.”
“I can’t take your bed.”
“You can. You will.” His tone left no room for argument as he shoved the cup of hot chocolate into my hands. “Get some sleep, Cassidy. Everything’s going to be okay. It will be better in the morning. And… I won’t let Abeline hurt you.”
His words resonated deep in my soul. This man wouldprotectme.
The way he said my name sent a shiver down my spine that had nothing to do with the cold. And the way he talked about Abeline. It was as if he thought it was a person instead of a place.
I changed in the bathroom, pulling his shirt over my head. It fell to mid-thigh, drowning me in soft flannel that smelled like him. I caught my reflection in the mirror and barely recognized myself.
