Good, I think savagely.Let them know.
I reach up and smooth a stray lock of hair behind her ear, my thumb lingering on her cheekbone. "Fix your hair, Cassandra. But leave your mouth swollen and your neck marked. I want every man in Pine Valley to look at you and smell the scent of my arousal all over you. I want them to see your pupils blown wide and know exactly whose cock you were just begging for. I want them to know you’re mine."
She swallows hard, nodding slowly. "Chase… what are we doing?"
"Winning," I say, stepping back and unlocking the door. I turn the handle, but pause before opening it, looking back at her over my shoulder. The heat in my gaze is a physical weight. "We’re winning."
I open the door and step out into the cool air of the shop, my blood still boiling, my skin humming. Austin stands by thecounter, his jaw set and arms tight across his chest, but his expression shifts to a knowing smirk when he sees my face.
I ignore him. I just look back at the open office door, watching as Cassandra steps out. She’s tried to fix her hair, but it’s still loose, falling around her shoulders. She looks flushed, breathless, and thoroughly claimed.
She catches my eye across the shop. The air between us snaps tight, an invisible tether pulling taut.
Game on, Counselor.
5
CASSANDRA
The vibration of the Harley beneath me ceased five minutes ago, but my inner thighs still hum with the phantom resonance of the engine. Or maybe that’s just him. Chase.
The man stands on the porch of his cabin, keys jingling in his hand, looking like the devil deciding which circle of hell to show me first. The ride up the mountain was a blur of wind and terrifying speed, my arms wrapped around his waist out of necessity, my chest pressed against the leather of his cut. I can still smell him—the raw, aggressive scent of leather, gasoline, and that uniquely masculine musk that is now mixed with the heavy scent of my own arousal. It is a sensory brand that tells my brain I am already his, long before he’s even touched the lock.
"You coming inside, Counselor? Or are you going to stand there analyzing the structural integrity of my porch?"
His voice is a low rumble matching the darkening sky above Grizzly Peak. We are miles from the paved roads of Pine Valley. This is Gunnar territory. Wild, unchecked, and silent save for the wind tearing through the evergreens.
I smooth my skirt, trying to summon the composure that usually wins me fierce arguments in courtrooms. "I’m assessing my exit strategy, Mr. Gunnar. Since you essentially kidnapped me from the shop."
"Kidnapped implies you didn't climb on the back of my bike willingly." He unlocks the heavy oak door and pushes it open, leaning against the frame with a cocky, half-lidded smirk that makes my stomach flip. "Come inside. We have strategies to discuss. Unless you want the town council to think their favorite power couple is having a lover's spat in the driveway."
I march past him, the heat radiating off his massive body hitting me like a wall. "We aren't having a lover's spat. We are engaging in a client dispute regarding boundaries."
"Boundaries," he repeats, testing the word like it tastes of metal. "I don't think that word means what you think it means up here."
The door closes behind us. The lock clicks with a finality that echoes in the sudden quiet of the cabin. The interior matches the man—rugged and overwhelmingly intimate. A stone fireplace dominates one wall, the embers of a morning fire still glow dull red. Leather furniture, dark wood, not a softening touch to be found. A hunter's den.
I turn to face him, crossing my arms over my chest to protect myself from the way his gaze strips me bare. "The kiss at the shop, Chase. That violated the agreement. We established rules. Public displays of affection only. Strategic. Calculated."
Chase drops his keys on a side table and stalks toward me. He doesn't rush. He moves with the fluid, lethal grace of a large cat, his heavy boots thudding on the hardwood floor.
"Calculated," he scoffs, unzipping his leather vest and shrugging it off. Underneath, his black t-shirt clings to muscles shifting like tectonic plates. "Is that what that was? Because from where I was standing, you were clawing at my back like you wanted to climb inside my skin."
I step back, hitting the edge of a heavy wooden table. "I was caught off guard. Adrenaline response."
"Bullshit." He stops inches from me, invading my personal space until I have to tilt my head back to meet his stare. His eyes burn with an intensity that liquefies my knees. "You liked it. You liked having my hands on you. You liked surrendering control."
"I never surrender control," I snap, pressing back against the heavy oak table. "And certainly not to a man whose primary negotiation tactic is kidnapping."
"It wasn't kidnapping," Chase says, taking a slow step forward. "It was an extraction."
"It was a felony," I correct, my voice rising. "You think because you wear leather and ride a loud bike you can just reshape the world to fit your wants? It doesn't work that way, Chase. I am not one of your club bunnies you can just order around."
He stops, a dark amusement dancing in his eyes. "You think I want a bunny? I want a wolf, Cassandra. And I think I found one. She's just afraid to bite."
"I am not afraid," I lie, though my pulse is hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. "I am rational. And rationally, this"—I gesture between us—"is a disaster."
"Rationally," he murmurs, closing the distance, "this is inevitable."
