"You meant it?" he asks quietly. "About loving me?"
I reach up and trace the scar on his cheek. "Yeah. I did. I tried to forget you, Austin. I tried so hard. But no one else was you."
He leans down and kisses me softly, a stark contrast to the ravaging he just gave me. "No one else is ever touching you again, Court. I’m done sharing. I’m done waiting."
He finally pulls out, the loss of contact making me whine. He chuckles, a low rumble, and rolls to his side, pulling me immediately against his chest. His arm clamps over my waist like a steel band, his leg thrown over mine.
Austin pulls me closer, his heart a steady thrum against my ear. "I spent years watching this place decay, just waiting for the moment you’d come back to salvage what was left."
I look up at him, the moonlight catching the hard line of his jaw. "You really stayed away that whole time?"
"I was never truly away, Court. I’ve been guarding this empty shell like a tomb for a decade." He runs a hand over the scarred headboard he had reinforced. "I patrolled this property every week, fixed the fences, and kept the squatters out to make sure itwas here in case you came home. I watched a shrine, because it was all I had left of you.”
"Where are you going?" I murmur as he shifts the pillow.
"Nowhere," he says firmly. "Go to sleep. I’ve got you."
I rest my head on his chest, listening to the steady, strong beat of his heart. The smell of him surrounds me—sweat and sex. Outside, the wind howls through the pines of Grizzly Peak. But in here, in this rotting house that Austin is rebuilding board by board, I am untouchable.
I close my eyes. I don't dream of running. I dream of staying.
6
AUSTIN
Sunlight cuts through the grime of the Victorian windows, slashing across the dusty floorboards in bars of pale gold. I ignore the room. I ignore the peeling wallpaper and the rot in the ceiling corner that needs tearing out before it brings the whole roof down.
I only look at her.
Courtney sleeps on my chest. Her breathing moves in a slow, rhythmic tide that my own lungs have synchronized with. Her dark hair spreads over my shoulder in a tangled mess, smelling of sweat and the musk of our sex. My arm wraps around her waist, locking her flush against me, my hand splayed wide over the curve of her hip.
For ten years, I haven’t slept. Not really. I’ve catnapped. I’ve passed out from whiskey or exhaustion. I’ve slept with one eye open in the clubhouse barracks or in the back of the surveillance van watching the perimeter. But this heavy peace feels like being anchored to the ocean floor. I haven’t felt this since we wereeighteen, sitting on the hood of my first truck, watching the stars over Grizzly Peak.
I shift, wincing as the movement pulls at the fresh scratches on my back. She marked me. A possessive smile tugs at my lips. Good. Let the boys in the locker room see it. Let them know the Vice President is taken.
Courtney stirs, a soft, protesting noise vibrating against my sternum. She doesn’t pull away. Instead, she burrows closer, her leg hooking over my thigh to seek heat. Her skin feels impossibly soft against the rough scar tissue mapping my torso. The contrast makes my teeth ache. I’m holding my entire world in my arms, acutely aware of how easily it can be broken.
I need to get up. I need to check the perimeter. Logan sent a text at 0400 about a black SUV spotted near the logging road bordering Costa territory. The eastern cliffs are waking up. The peace we’ve held in Pine Valley is fraying like an old rope. As VP, I should be at the table, strategizing, cleaning weapons.
But I can’t move.
The thought of sliding out from under her warmth triggers a physical spike of panic in my chest. It feels like a heart attack. Pathetic. I’m a grown man, a killer when I need to be, a leader of outlaws. Yet the idea of creating two inches of space between her body and mine makes my lungs seize.
I press my nose into the crown of her head, inhaling deep. She smells like ozone and home.
"Austin?" Her voice rasps, thick with sleep.
"I’m here," I rumble. My voice sounds wrecked, gravelly from the feral growls I couldn't hold back when I finally buried myself inside her. "Go back to sleep, Court."
She shifts, propping her chin on my chest to look up at me. Heavy lids shadow her hazel eyes. A bruise blooms on her neck, a dark purple love bite right over her pulse point where I staked my claim. Seeing it sends a jolt of satisfaction straight to my cock.
"You’re still here," she whispers. As if she expected to wake up alone. As if she thought I was like the boys she dated in the city.
I bring my hand up, cupping her jaw, my thumb sweeping over her bottom lip. "I’m never leaving again. You get that, right? I told you last night. I’m moving in."
She blinks, the reality of the morning crashing into the haze. "Austin... my house. It’s falling apart."
"Our house," I correct, my tone brokering no argument. "And I’ll fix it. Every rotted beam. Every broken window. I’ll rebuild the foundation with my bare hands if I have to. But you aren’t sleeping here alone. Not with the roof leaking, and not with what’s happening on the mountain."
