Page 5

Callie

I woke to the sound of movement.

Blinking sleepily, I registered several things at once. An unfamiliar room, the storm still raging outside, and a very large, very shirtless man doing push-ups on the floor beside the bed. The motions were slow, controlled, as if trying to keep the ghosts quiet.

I knew he had ghosts. They were etched in his skin in the form of scars that he carried. No doubt, they were also stamped into his mind, just as deep.

For a long moment, I just watched. Not just the ripple of muscle across his back, but the tension coiled into every line of him—like he was holding something in. Pain. Rage. Maybe both.

The man didn’t just wear silence—he weaponized it. And somehow, it made me want him more.

Thirty, forty... I lost count somewhere between awe and something dangerously close to longing. This wasn’t just fitness. This was discipline born of necessity. A man fighting demons before breakfast.

This was not how I’d expected to start my morning, but I wasn’t complaining.

Not one bit.

He pulled a shirt over all that scarred, beautiful skin and started toward the door. I felt the moment he paused. I heard the stillness stretch. Then, slowly, he turned.

I squeezed my eyes shut, feigning sleep, forcing my breathing to stay slow and steady. But I could feel him watching me. The air shifted with the weight of it—his stare, heavy and rough, dragging over my skin like a touch. Possessive. Branding.

Goosebumps prickled down my arms. My body knew he was still there, even when I didn’t dare look. After what felt like forever, he moved away, the bedroom door opening and closing softly behind him.

I waited a few more seconds, then opened my eyes, releasing the breath I’d been holding. “Good morning to you too, mountain man,” I murmured to the empty room.

Max, who had been curled at my feet, yawned and stretched, looking at me with what I swore was amusement.

“Don’t judge me,” I told him, sitting up and running a hand through my tangled curls. “You’d have looked too.”

The smell of coffee drifted in from the main room, spurring me into action. I slipped out of bed, checking my borrowed clothes for decency. I had to admit the little imp in me had insisted that I would have been too hot if I’d slept in the sweatpants last night. I knew what I had hoped would happen. He’d catch a glimpse of my thick thigh and be overcome with lust.

That hadn’t happened. But I gave myself a pat on the back for trying.

I sighed as I pulled them back on. I would never have the body of temptress that drove a man to forget his good intentions.

But part of me wished I did. Not for vanity’s sake—but because I wanted to be the kind of woman who made Gabriel Holt forget why he’d locked his emotions away like a dragon hording gold.

I took a moment to use the bathroom and attempted to tame my hair, which had exploded into its full wild glory overnight. Without my usual products, it was a losing battle, so I settled for pulling it into a messy bun on top of my head.

Gabriel stood at the kitchen counter, his back to me, pouring coffee into two mugs. He’d added a flannel shirt over his t-shirt, but it hung open, still giving me a nice view of how the fabric stretched across that six pack of abs he carried around with him.

“Morning,” I said, aiming for casual and missing by a mile when my voice came out slightly husky.

He turned, coffee mugs in hand, eyes flicking briefly over my appearance before settling on my face. “Morning. Coffee?”

“Oh, yes.” I crossed to him, accepting the offered mug with a grateful smile. “Thanks.”

He checked the radio, muttered something about the roads still being closed. I barely heard him.

I was too busy trying not to look at the bruise-colored scar that peeked from the edge of his collar. Too busy wondering how many more he had.

I nodded, trying to ignore the little flip in my stomach at his words. Was it disappointment or anticipation? I honestly couldn’t tell.

After breakfast, Gabriel went to check on the generator again and took Max out again. I glanced around the cabin, taking it in properly for the first time. It was small but meticulously organized. Bookshelves lined one wall, filled with a surprising variety—military history, wilderness survival, but also classics, plus a few well-worn paperback thrillers. The books on his shelves weren’t just about survival. They were about endurance. About men who broke and rebuilt themselves from dust.

I could tell there had been repairs on the cabin. Floorboards that were new, trim around the windows. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he’d been making the cabin a home. Not in the sense a woman would—no fluffy pillows, flowers in a vase. I gave a little laugh. He didn’t even have a couch.

The furnishings were sparse but high quality. Everything functional, nothing frivolous. No photos, no personal mementos that I could see. The place felt like a fortress—not just against the elements, but against memories.

What was Gabriel Holt running from?

I sat in the armchair and immediately felt like his arms had wrapped around me. The sleeves of his t-shirt fell past my elbows. I brought the fabric to my nose, inhaling the scent I’d already come to associate with him. It made my insides twist with a hunger that had nothing to do with food.

I wanted him. I could admit that to myself now, alone in his space. I wanted to be the thing that made him break his rules. That made him need.

Get it together, Callie. He clearly wants nothing to do with you.

Except... that wasn’t entirely true, was it? I hadn’t imagined the tension in his body when he’d finally came to bed. There was definitely something simmering beneath that stoic exterior.

When Gabriel returned, soaked despite the short trip to the generator shed, I insisted he take a hot shower to warm up. The look of surprise on his face at my concern was almost comical, as if no one had fussed over him in years.

While he showered—and I tried very hard not to think about water cascading over all those muscles—I sighed at the fact that I didn’t have camera equipment with me. I could do a full blown exhibit with pictures of Gabriel. The ex-military hero turned broody mountain man.

Of course, that reminded me he was here for a reason.

Reasons that had hurt him.

Reasons that probably haunted him. That probably still lived under his skin, no matter how many push-ups he did to sweat them out.

He came back into living room, his hair still slightly wet, curling just a little at the temples. “So, what does one do in a cabin during a never-ending storm?” I knew I had a few suggestions of how we could pass the time.

“I usually read. Split wood if needed.”

“Sounds thrilling,” I teased.

“It’s peaceful,” he corrected. “That’s the point.”

I glanced toward the window, where the storm continued unabated. “Well, we need something to do, and the light’s terrible for reading.”

Gabriel surprised me by suggesting board games.

“Board games? The kind where you have to have two people to play? How anti-hermit of you?”

“Don’t go psychoanalyzing me. They came with the cabin.” He pointed to a large wooden trunk near the fireplace. Inside I found chess, Scrabble, backgammon, and to my delight, an old Monopoly set.

“Monopoly?” I held up the box, grinning. “Really?”

He shrugged. “Again, I didn’t put them there.”

“Right. But you didn’t get rid of them either.”

I cleared off the books from the small side table and took a seat on the floor. “You want to be banker?”

He gave a deep sigh, and if I was interrupting his grunts and groans correctly, a world weary , why am I letting you do this to me kind of sigh . But he sat down in the armchair. Max walked over to the rug in front of the fireplace, twirled around a few times then settled in for his midmorning nap.

“Sure, I’ll be the banker.” He paused for a moment and then said. “My sister liked to be banker.”

It was the first personal detail he’d volunteered, and I seized on it immediately. “You have a sister?”

“Had.” His expression closed off again quickly. “She died. Cancer. Five years ago.”

The way he said it—quiet, clipped, final—sliced right through me. Not only was he dealing with the stuff he’d brought back with him from the military, but he’d lost a close family member.

My heart clenched. “I’m sorry, Gabriel.”

He nodded once, accepting my condolences but clearly not wanting to discuss it further. But it stuck with me. The shadow in his eyes. The grief that lived inside his stillness. He didn’t just lose people—he kept losing them. That’s what it felt like. Like he carried every loss with him.

The cabin was silent for the next hour except for the soft thud of the dice as they landed and my soft squeal of delight when Gabriel finally started having to pay me rent.

After a while, my body protested sitting on the floor and I knew I had to move. “Can we take a break? Or do you want to resume this tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow is fine.” If you’re still here. That thought hung in the air between us. Then, a crash of thunder filled the room. The lights flickered but stabilized.

“Your generator’s earning its keep,” I observed quietly.

Gabriel nodded. “It’s reliable.”

“Just like you,” I replied. And meant it. Who else would have offered shelter to a woman and her dog? And made her feel safe while doing so.

I put the game back together and our fingers brushed as we both reached for the lid. It was a tiny thing. A spark. But it hit like a match to dry tinder.

“Now, if I can get up. I think my foot is asleep.”

I tried to maneuver onto my feet as gracefully as I could but Gabriel moved faster, coming to stand beside me. Without a word he reached down and helped me up in one smooth move. My momentum brought me dangerously close to his chest.

I pressed my hands against him, my palms on a solid wall of muscle. “Thank you for humoring me.”

“You’re welcome.” The moment stretched out as if we both wanted to say something, do something.

I knew what I wanted to do. I wanted to lean forward and kiss him. My dreams last night had been filled with him turning to me, pulling me into his arms and having his wickedly delightful way with me.

“Callie.” My name was a whisper on his lips and my breath caught as his head lowered. Slowly as if giving me time to retreat. As if. I pushed up on my tip toes and met him more than halfway.

I was eager in my response if not experienced. I might be a little flirty on the outside, but that was to cover my nervousness when it came to dealing with men. And with men like Gabriel… I wasn’t even on their radar.

But now…

His hand cupped the back of my head, pulling me to him, into the kiss. It was not a lingering let’s get to know you kiss. It was hard and demanding from the moment our mouths met. His other hand splayed across my lower back. Everything said he wanted to claim me.

And maybe I wanted him to. Maybe I needed to be claimed by someone who kissed like the world might end tomorrow.

I groaned as he pressed our bodies together. There was no denying he wanted me. His body was hard and rigid against my stomach. His hold tightened and the kiss deepened. He swept his tongue inside my mouth, tasting, learning. I followed his lead as best I could, putting all of my stored up emotion into it.

He groaned into my mouth when I moved, trying to wiggle closer to his heat. His need.

“You taste so good,” he muttered as he trailed kisses down my neck, moving the top of my borrowed t-shirt away with his teeth.

I felt my panties grow wet. I dug my fingers into his biceps, trying to hold on as sensations swept through me. While I might never have had sex, I had participated in a few heavy petting sessions.

But this… this was beyond my experience. Not because of what we were doing, but because of the man doing them to me. With me.

He was intense, freaking off the Richter scale when it came to making my body want him.

“Max,” I whispered, moving my hands until they gripped the hair at the back of his neck. “Please.”

“Please what?” he whispered back, his mouth moving along the tops of my breasts, his tongue leaving a wet trail in its path.

“I, I,” I stammered. “I don’t know.”

He chuckled against my skin, then straightened. He looked down at me, tugging my hair and arching my neck. “Oh, you know what you want, Callie. Now tell me.”

His voice was a dare wrapped in smoke. And heaven help me, I wanted to say yes to whatever came next.

I searched his eyes, his gaze unblinking and heavy-lidded. I knew what I wanted, but I didn’t know if he was ready for that. If I was. Instead, I said, “Touch me please.”

He looked as if he were about to challenge me, but he didn’t. Instead, he moved, spreading his legs and pulling me between them. Then his hands were sliding up my sides, pushing my shirt up. “Lift,” he ordered.

I froze, because this was the time when everything usually fell apart. Or I got cold feet.

“What’s wrong?”

I quickly shook my head because for once, nothing was. I wanted this. I wanted to be with Gabriel.

He cupped my face with both hands and bent his knees so that his eyes were level with mine. “We won’t do anything you don’t want to do. And if you tell me to stop, I stop, Callie, understand?”

I nodded my head. “I do,” I answered, biting my lip.

One of his big thumbs broke it free from my teeth. “But?”

I sighed. This would be the make or break moment. “There’s something you need to know. Not because it’s a big deal, but I know some men. They would.” I stopped drawing in a deep breath.

“They would what? What do you need to tell me?” I could see his eyes cloud over with worry.

“I haven’t done this before. You know, gone all the way.”

I almost smiled at the expression that crossed his face. Disbelief. Shock almost. “You’re a virgin?”

“Yes. I’ve never had sex with a man before.”

He just stood there, my face still in his hands, his eyes still locked with mine.

Then, he was picking me up in his arms and carrying me down the hallway. I quickly wrapped my arms around his neck, giggling a little. From nervousness, excitement. I didn’t know which. And I didn’t care because I wanted this. I wanted Gabriel Holt to love me. “I guess you’re okay with that?”

“I am more than okay with that.”

The way he said it—like it meant something to him—made my heart pound. He wasn’t just okay with it. He said it like it mattered. Like I mattered.

Once in the bedroom, he stood me on my feet beside the bed, hands on hips, chest heaving. He looked like a man on a mission.

I licked my lips, excited about being the focus of all that intensity. “So where do we start?”