Because the moment I saw her, something inside me latched on. The feeling was silent, certain, primal.
This girl is mine. Off-limits, but still mine for now.
Mine to protect. Mine to keep safe. Mine to carry inside and take care of her.
I force my voice steady. “What’s your name?”
She flinches at the rough edge in my tone. I’m not used to talking to people, especially not ones like her. She should be treated delicately, and that’s something I’m going to have to practice.
I soften it immediately. “I’m going to help you. Your father was one of the best people I ever knew. I’m not going to hurt you. What’s your name?”
She exhales shakily, her shoulders dropping. “Eleanore Montrose. Ellie, if you want.” Her teeth chatter. She’s freezing. I’ve got to get her inside, but I need to make sure that I don’t scare her.
“Cillian Kavanagh. Kav, if you want,” I mimic her, and I swear my fucking heart pounds in my chest when she blushes at the attention I show her. I shift my grip, guiding her toward the front door that will lead us into the warm cabin. “Come on. We’re going to get you warmed up and figure things out.”
She steps inside, small and soaked and trembling, and something inside me locks into place like this was what I sensed was happening. I’m insane to think that my college roommate’s daughter is the person I’ve been missing all along. The idea feels simple and absolute.
But it’s fucking crazy. The silence definitely got to me, and now I’m acting like some horny college kid who saw a pretty blonde for the first time.
Riley might have entrusted her to me, which means she’s off-limits. I can look after her, but nothing else. I won’t touch her, look at her for too long, but it’s too late…
Because deep in my chest, where it doesn’t seem so hollow anymore, there’s one truth that rises above everything else:
Ellie Montrose is meant for me to protect.
And I will burn the world down before I ever let anyone harm her.
CILLIAN
Christmas Eve
Do you know long it takes for a man to slowly go insane?
Eight months.
Eight months of pretending I’m unaffected.
Eight months of pretending I don’t watch my Ellie girl more than I breathe.
Eight months of being the guardian I promised I’d be… while every part of me wants to be something else entirely.
I want her under me crying out my name while I bring her the only pleasure she’s ever known.
It’s the day before Christmas, and I’m watching the fuckery that’s currently inhabiting the ice at Castlebrook University. I’ve got a clipboard in hand, pretending I give a damn about hockey formations when all I can think about is how I’m going to spend Christmas with Ellie.
Ellie turned out to be nineteen. Sweet. A brilliant pianist. Soft in all the places that undo me. The girl I dragged my entire life sideways for without blinking.
The morning after she showed up on my porch, soaked to the bone, shaking, and terrified, I called Beckham Kingston. An old college teammate of Riley and me. He’s now head coach at St. Charles University, and I knew he’d have a connection I could use to my advantage.
The coach at Castlebrook University supposedly quit unexpectedly, and Beckham hooked me up with no questions asked. I took the coaching job with a fraud of a resume. Found housing. Set everything up so Ellie could have a safe, normal college life for the first time in her existence. Piano lessons. Tutors. Whatever she wants, I make it happen, and I can honestly say that making her happy is the only real, true joy I’ve ever felt in my life.
Ellie lives with me because I insisted. For her safety, I told her. Until I figure out what’s going on with her father and can guarantee she isn’t on anyone’s radar. She doesn’t know that I monitor her every move, that I inserted a tracker in the sweet spot of her neck so I’d always be able to find her no matter where she is. I have hidden cameras throughout our home. Some of that is truly because I worry about her safety, but I won’t lie and say I haven’t watched her sleep, watched her sit at her vanity while she carefully pulls her long blonde hair into a ponytail and then meticulously braids it. I’ve taken the liberty of running my palm over that braid while she sleeps and pulling her covers up over her. I haven’t taken it too far. I haven’t touched her smooth stomach or her full breasts. I haven’t dipped my fingers into those lace panties I paid for, but should never be allowed to touch.
And now she wants to spend Christmas at the cabin where we met.
Just the two of us with a blizzard due to hit the area just in time for Christmas.
We’ll be snowed in.
