"You scared me," she gasps against my lips as we reach the landing.
"Good," I growl, turning into the master bedroom. "Maybe next time you'll stay put."
I kick the bedroom door shut and carry her to the bed.
I pin her to the mattress, my massive frame crushing her into the quilt.
I don't strip her yet—I want the raw, punishing friction of denim on denim, the way the coarse fabric burns against our swollen skin as I grind the thick, throbbing length of my cock against her soaked pussy. I bury my face in the crook of her neck, inhaling the heavy, localized musk of her arousal and the heady lavender scent of her skin, like crushed blossoms warmed by sun. My hands roam her body like I’m marking every inch of my territory, my palms mapping the heavy, engorged swell of her tits and the deep, inviting curve of her ass through her clothes.
I need her to feel exactly how much she belongs to me, right here in the fortress I built for her.
"You doubted me," I murmur against her throat, my teeth grazing the pulse point. "You thought I wanted the dirt."
"I'm sorry," she cries, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of my neck. "I'm so sorry, Austin."
"You trust me now," I say. It’s not a question. "That's all that matters."
I hold her there, pinned beneath me, until our breathing syncs. Until the frantic beating of her heart slows to match the heavy thud of mine. I want to take her.
I’m done with barriers. I want these clothes gone so I can sink my cock into her pussy and fill her until she’s stretched to the limit, until she forgets her own fucking name and remembers only the taste of my seed.
But not like this. Not while the ghost of a threat still hangs over the house.
I roll off her, finally, pulling the duvet up over our sweat-slicked bodies. I wrap an arm around her waist and haul her back against my chest, spooning her so she can feel the cooling dampness of my release on her thighs. My hand rests flat on her stomach, heavy and protective.
"From now on, you don't go anywhere without me," I tell her. "Not for coffee. Not for groceries. And definitely not to see any lawyers. If you need something, I get it. If you need to go somewhere, I drive you."
She shifts slightly, pressing her back against my chest. "Is it really that bad? The Costas?"
"It’s worse," I admit, staring at the dust motes dancing in the shaft of afternoon light. "Dominic Costa is old school. He respects strength, but he preys on weakness. The Gunnars have held this mountain for three generations. He wants it. And he thinks we’re distracted."
"Are you?"
"I am now." I kiss her shoulder through her shirt. "But that just makes me more dangerous. Because now I have something to lose."
I feel her hand cover mine on her stomach. Her fingers lace through mine.
"I need to show you something," I say, sitting up. The adrenaline has faded into a cold, tactical focus. "Come with me."
I lead her down the hall to the small office off the kitchen. I slide open the hidden panel I installed behind the bookshelf to reveal a bank of high-definition security monitors. The blue light washes over her face.
"Look at this, Court. This estate isn't just a home." I point to the topographic overlay on the screen. "It's the only viable road access between the eastern cliffs and the highway. It’s a choke point."
I lean in, tracing the perimeter lines with a finger. "I’m not playing real estate tycoon. I’m building a fortress. The Costas want to expand west? They have to come through here. And by reinforcing this site with oak, iron, and bulletproof glass, I made sure they can't."
She stares at the screen, eyes wide. "You turned my house into a barricade."
"I turned it into a dead end for them," I correct her. "From a negotiation standpoint, the Costas lost their leverage the moment I locked your front door. Because now, the only way into the valley is through me."
She turns to me, realizing the scope of what I’ve done. What I’ve been doing for ten years.
"And I need to have a conversation with James," I add, voice low.
She reaches for me, fingers brushing my arm. "He said he was trying to protect me."
"He knew sending you to the Outfitters would cause a scene. He wanted to flush out our reaction." I check my phone. There’s a text from Logan.
Sitrep?
