"In my bed."
"With me?"
"Unless you want the floor."
She swallows hard, standing up. The flannel shirt rides up her thighs. "Okay."
I kill the lantern in the main room. The only light left is the orange glow from the hearth, spilling through the open bedroom doorway.
I walk into the room and strip out of my jeans. I’m down to my boxer briefs. I don’t hide myself. I want her to see the size of me. The threat of me.
I’m hard. I’m straining against the cotton. It’s a thick, heavy need. It’s been building since I saw her check in at the lodge.
She averts her eyes, a hot flush creeping up her neck, and scrambles under the heavy down quilt. She curls into a tight ball on the far edge of the mattress, trying to disappear into the shadows.
I climb in after her. The log frame groans, and the mattress dips deep under my weight. I don't stay on my side. I slide across the sheets until the heat of my chest hits the curve of her back.
"Logan—" she squeaks, her voice small and trembling.
"Quiet. You’re still shivering, and I won't have you freezing in my bed.
Shed the thermal and that lace bra, Savannah. Then lose the panties. I want you naked against me, or you’ll never get warm."
I feel the indecision radiating off her spine. She hesitates, her breath hitching in the dark before she reaches under the quilt.
I watch the silhouette of her movement as she wriggles out of the tight thermal shirt, unhooks her bra, and shoves her panties over her hips, pushing the damp bundle of silk and cotton over the side of the bed.
I pull her flush against me. Skin to skin. She’s like a live wire, humming with a frantic energy that makes my own blood simmer.
"I can feel... you," she whispers into the silence.
I grind my hips forward, just enough to let the hard ridge of my cock press into her heat. "Good. Then you know exactly what you’re sleeping next to. Don't make me remind you again."
She stiffens, a sharp intake of breath rattling in her lungs, before she finally collapses into the mattress. Her breathing evens out, but sleep is a mile away for me. I lay there, inhaling the fresh jasmine with a hint of sweet honey and rain clinging to her hair. My hand splayed wide over her stomach.
An hour passes. In the other room, the fire dies down to orange embers, casting long, dancing shadows through the open doorway. The storm still claws at the timber walls, a feral thing trying to get in, but the only thing that matters is the woman in my arms.
She shifts, turning over in her sleep until she’s facing me. Her leg hooks over my hip, her soft thigh rubbing against my erection with a friction that tests every ounce of my control.
I grit my teeth. I’m the President of the Broken Halos MC. I control an army of killers. I can surely control my own pulse.
But then she whimpers. She presses her face into the crook of my neck, her soft breasts smashing against the ink on my chest.My heart hammers against my ribs like a trapped bird. I keep my hand still on her hip, my fingers digging into her soft flesh just enough to leave a mark. Even in her sleep, her body knows I’m the one.
I bury my face in her hair, the scent of her intoxicating in the dark.
"Sleep," I whisper, my voice a rough vow. "You’re going to need your energy for tomorrow."
She snuggles closer, her warmth bleeding into my skin as she falls deeper into the arms of the beast who just stole her life. The silence of the mountain doesn't feel lonely anymore. It feels like victory.
But the storm isn't the only thing that's going to break by morning.
3
SAVANNAH
The scent of him hits me first. It’s a heavy blend of pine, woodsmoke, and a dark, animal musk that makes my head swim. I open my eyes, squinting against the dim light spilling through the open bedroom doorway. This isn't the Grand Pine Lodge. There are no sterile white walls here. Only the rough timber of a cabin that feels as old as the mountain itself.
Memory slams into me.
