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“Let’s get inside and see what we have to work with,” Lincoln says, dusting his hands on his jeans, then grabbing my hand.

He guides me a short distance between the barn and a tiny cabin with a quaint stone chimney. Lincoln turns the rusted door handle. It doesn’t budge. He jiggles the knob, and it falls to the ground with a clank.

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath, releasing my hand.

I miss the warmth of his palm against mine, but I don’t doubt for a moment that he’ll get us safely inside this cabin come hell or high water. He grabs the door frame with both hands, then thrusts his booted foot against the old door. It creaks open with a swirl of dust.

Clearly, this hunting lodge hasn’t been used in a while.

We step inside, and Lincoln presses the door closed behind us. The old lodge is one open room, even smaller than my guest cabin. There’s no kitchenette or bathroom, just a fireplace with a thick rug covering the floor, a rack of firewood, two wool blankets, and a storage chest.

Lincoln crosses the room to open the chest, then swears under his breath. “There’s nothing here but some bottles of water and expired protein bars.” He reaches in and pulls out a tiny box. “And thankfully, some matches.”

The man gets right to work, placing a few logs in the fireplace, finding some smaller pieces for kindling, then lighting it with a match. The room is soon filled with warm light, and the heat feels delicious. I kneel on the rug in front of the fireplace and hold my hands up so the heat can warm my skin faster.

Lincoln does the same, and I notice for the first time that he’s shivering just as hard as I am.

Removing his coat from my body, I try to hand it to him. Lincoln takes it, shaking his head and placing it back over my shoulders. “You keep it. I’ll be fine.”

He stands and grabs a blanket, giving it a few good shakes to remove the dust before kneeling beside me and wrapping me in the fabric. He crosses the room once more to grab the other blanket for himself, then finally sits down. The way he’s selflessly caring for me warms my heart. It’s also incredibly sexy. Sexier than it should be.

We sit there, wrapped in blankets, until we can feel our fingers and toes again.

I risk a glance at the solid man next to me, suddenly nervous to be in this small space with romantic, flickering firelight.

My heart flutters the moment my eyes land on him. He’s the handsomest man I’ve ever seen. The strong ridge of his nose is cast in shadows, his eyes glittering in the dim light, the sturdy set of his shoulders. My mind wanders to the way he took charge today, making sure he got me to safety. And that only adds to my attraction.

There’s a smudge of dirt on his neck, probably from when he was fixing the fence. Before I can stop myself, I reach up and wipe the dirt away with my thumb. The way his fire-warmed skin feels under the pad of my finger is intoxicating. This visceral pull I have toward him is heady, stronger than any attraction I’ve ever felt toward another person. Does he feel it too?

I pull my fingers away, but his hand comes up and latches onto my wrist. Lincoln drags my fingers back to rest on his neck. His eyes bore into mine, his hand sliding over the back of my palm. It’s at this moment I’m confident that we both feel the electricity running between us. I slide my hand up further until I’m cupping his sharp jaw. Lincoln leans into the touch, closing his eyes like he’s savoring it, like he hasn’t been touched in years.

When is the last time someone comforted you, Lincoln Galloway? When was the last time someone made you feel good?

Lincoln moves his hand to my chin, tilting my face until our mouths are only a breath apart.

“If you weren’t so damn stubborn, you would’ve worn Hank’s coat,” he whispers, his eyes dancing with heat and mischief.

He’s trying to rile me up. I think he enjoys it.

“If you weren’t such a jerk to me, maybe I would’ve listened,” I whisper back.

His gaze moves from my eyes to my lips. “You’re right. I’ve been an asshole, and I’m sorry.”

I blink, surprised by his apology.

“I wanted to push you away, because I’m terrified of you.”

“Why are you terrified of me?” I ask, hoping for a certain answer, and holding my breath as I wait.

He exhales, his warm, minty breath teasing me. “Because you make me feel things I haven’t felt in a long time.”

Lincoln’s eyes bore into mine in a silent question, and I meet his gaze boldly, daring him to take what he wants…to not give into his fear.

He closes the distance, pressing his warm lips against mine. The soft scratch of his beard contrasts with the softness of his mouth in a tantalizing way that only increases the delicious sensory overload. Lincoln’s tongue dips out to taste my bottom lip, then he sucks on it gently. I tilt my head to get closer to him, opening my mouth so I can taste his tongue with mine.

He’s a good kisser…a very good kisser. He’s soft but hard, gentle yet in control. I slide my hand from his cheek to his chest, wishing he wasn’t wearing two shirts.

Lincoln wraps one arm around my waist, hauling me onto his solid lap. He holds us both upright without wavering, even though there’s nothing for him to rest his back against. His hand snakes up the back of my shirt. The warmth of his palm against my still-cool skin is divine. Between the heat from the fire, his lips kissing up my neck, and his fingers skimming beneath my bra strap, I’m dizzy with desire coiling through me. Arching my back to get closer, I press myself against the hard planes of his body beneath me.