Her face flushes a deep red. She tries to push against my chest, but I don’t budge.
“Don’t make me sound so petty,” she snaps, glaring up at me. “I’m not that small, Boone. I’m not destroying this place to get revenge on you. I’m trying to save my life!”
“Are you?” I demand. “Or are you just running away again? Because if you sell this place, if you send us away, you’re going to be right back where you were eight years ago. Alone. Looking for a home that isn’t there.”
Her breath hitches. She stares at me, her defiance warring with the truth in my words.
“Iamalone,” she whispers.
“Are you?” I ask. I lean in closer, my nose brushing against her wet hair. “You have a dog that sleeps in your bed. You have three Alphas who are destroying their finances to keep a roof over your head. You have a town full of people who care about you, even if you’re too stubborn to see it.”
She trembles against me. The heat of her body seeps through my wet clothes.
“I’m scared,” she admits, so quietly I almost miss it.
“I know,” I say.
I don’t let her go. I press my hips harder against hers, anchoring her. “So stop pushing. Stop fighting the only people who are on your side. We aren’t the enemy, Saramaria. We never were.”
She looks up at me, her eyes searching mine. The rain pounds the earth around us, but under this tree, the world has shrunk to just the two of us.
For a moment, she doesn’t move. She doesn’t fight. She just looks at me.
I see the wall come down. I see the girl underneath the lawyer armor. The girl who just wants to be seen.
“Okay,” she whispers.
“Okay?” I ask.
“Okay,” she says again. “I hear you.”
I don’t move away. I don’t step back. I stay there, pinning her to the tree, feeling the beat of her heart against my chest. It matches mine. Fast, hard, alive.
And I realize with a jolt that I don’t want to let her go.
Not now. Maybe not ever.
Saramaria
He’s standing so close that the rain dripping from the brim of his hat splashes onto my forehead. I can see the dark stubble coating his jaw, a shadow that highlights his chin. The air is filled with the scent of wet pine, damp earth, and him—that spicy, clean aroma of rosemary and mint that has been haunting my dreams for a week.
His gaze drops. It tracks a slow path from my eyes down to my mouth, and then back up again. The heat in his eyes is terrifying. It’s a banked fire that has suddenly roared to life, consuming the oxygen in the space between us.
I should push him away. I should remind him that I am the owner of this land and he is the employee. I should tell him to get off me.
But I don’t.
I feel feverish. Even though the rain is freezing, soaking through my coat and my jeans, my blood is boiling.
His chest pins against the tree.
He leans in. It’s not a question. It’s a taking.
His lips crash down on mine.
There’s nothing gentle about it. It’s years of frustration, years of unspoken anger, and a hunger that scares us both. His mouthis hot and demanding, his teeth grazing my lower lip. I gasp, and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue sweeping in to claim me.
I melt. My knees go weak, the only thing holding me up is the tree at my back and the solid wall of his body in front. I taste the rain on him. I taste the desperation.
