He’s sitting right next to me, jaw tight, eyes forward, gripping the wheel like the world might still try to steal me.
And for the first time all night, I lean back into his arm and let myself believe it.
Ourmountain,ourcabin,ourworld.
Could that really be all I’ll ever need?
The cab isquiet except for the hum of the engine and the soft crack of gravel under the tires. Knox hasn’t spoken since we left the fairground.
His jaw’s tight and the vein in his temple pulsing.
And me?
The nearer we get to the cabin, the worse I feel for pushing him. For making him think not being with people was a bad thing.
A thing about winning and losing. About being…lesser.
I was wrong to make him take me there, to drag him off his mountain like he owed me something. Because the truth is, we don’t need it. We don’t need any of them. We don’t need anyone but each other.
I glance sideways just as his eyes flick to me, then to the road again.
“So did you enjoy it?” he finally rumbles, voice low, cautious.
My throat tightens. “At first,” I admit, then the words tumble out before I can stop them. “Then…not really. Some of those women…I didn’t want them looking at you. I hated it.”
The corner of his mouth curves, slow and wicked. His eyes go darker than night, a glint of satisfaction flickering there.
“You dragged me down here to prove something,” he says with a smirk tugging at his lips. “Ended up proving you’re mine. That you want me to be yours. Isn’t that right, petal?”
Heat floods my face, then drops to my chest, lower into my belly. Breathless, I shove at his arm. “Shut up and take me home faster.”
But when I steal another glance, I see it.
The shadows still lingering in his eyes. I know why. Those same shadows prowl around inside me because I didn’t fully answer his question earlier. The one about family, about breeding.
About permanence and whether I’ll stay.
But I couldn’t answer fully then, and I still can’t.
Not yet.
Not when Brandon still looms over my shoulder like a ghost I haven’t laid to rest. I can’t think of forever with my Bear until I put my past to bed.
And even before that thought completes, I know I’m not going to do it yet.
I don’t need to deal with it tonight.
Tonight isn’t…shouldn’tbe about me.
I have some amends to make. And I know how. And if the thought of it sends a spectacularly filthy thrill through me?
I shrug philosophically.
Lean back in my seat, exhaling slow.
The farther we get from town, the lighter I feel.
The fields thin into forest, the road winding into shadows, and my lungs finally loosen.
