Her hands explore my chest, my back, gripping me tighter every time I kiss her again. Her lips are soft, urgent. Her body arches toward mine like she’s wanted this just as badly, and for just as long.
But then?—
Aidan whimpers from the bassinet.
Kayley freezes.
We both still, breathing hard.
Her eyes flick to the baby. “He’s stirring.”
I brush her hair back from her cheek. “Go to him.”
She nods, breathless, and sits up, her body sliding out from beneath mine.
As she crosses the room, scooping Aidan into her arms, I watch her like she’s the first light after a long, dark war.
And maybe I didn’t plan for this.
Maybe it’s not smart. Maybe it’s not simple.
But I know two things.
Someone’s coming.
And they’re not getting past me.
Not for her.
Not for that baby.
Not forus.
SEVEN
KAYLEY
I’ve always thought people who fall fast are either reckless or lying.
Like—no offense to romance novels, but in real life you don’t meet a man in a snowstorm, get rescued into a mountain compound, and then melt into him on his couch like your body has been waiting your whole life for his hands.
That’s notreal. That’s fiction. That’s a cover model and a tagline.
And yet.
Here I am, standing in Gavin’s cabin with my cheeks hot, my mouth swollen from his kiss, my heart doing this frantic, humiliating tap dance against my ribs.
Aidan lets out a tiny whimper in my arms, and the sound jolts me back into the only reality I actually trust. This baby. He needs me.
I pull him in closer, bouncing gently, the way Sophie taught me the first week she brought him home and looked at me like she’d aged ten years overnight.
“Shh,” I whisper. “It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you.”
Do I?
I rock him slowly, side to side, listening to the faint pop of the fire and the wind worrying at the walls outside. The cabin is warm, but there’s still a cold thread under my skin—fear that doesn’t fully leave, even when the danger is technicallyhandledby a squad of extremely competent mountain men.
Because I’m not scared of a prowler at the fence.
