Page 6

“Everything. The way you move, like you’re used to rough terrain. How comfortable you are with silence. That protective instinct.” I shift to look at him better. “I bet you chop your own firewood.”

“Guilty again.”

“Hunt your own food?”

“When necessary.”

“Fix everything yourself instead of calling for help?”

“Where I live, help is two hours away on a good day.”

I feel ridiculously pleased with myself for reading him so accurately. “I knew it. The second I saw you, I thought, ‘mountain man.’”

“And what do you know about mountain men?” Amusement colors his voice.

“Just stories. Things you hear growing up.”

“What kind of stories?”

“About how they’re different. Wilder. More intense in everything they do.”

His eyes flash with something that makes my stomach flip. “And is that what you want? Intensity?”

“I...” The word sticks in my throat. Because yes, that’s exactly what I want. What I’ve always wanted but never knew how to ask for. “Yes.”

“Good.” He rolls us over so he’s hovering above me again, his weight supported on his forearms. “Because I plan to be very intense with you tonight.”

The promise in his voice makes me shiver. But there’s something else there, too, something that mirrors the ache in my own chest. Like we’re both trying to hold onto something we know we can’t keep.

Growing up, I heard stories about this. About people who met and fell so hard and fast that it changed everything. Love at first sight, the old-timers called it. I always thought they were fairy tales, romantic nonsense people told themselves to justify poor decisions.

But lying here with Reign, feeling like my entire world has shifted in the span of a few hours, I’m starting to understand. This isn’t just attraction or chemistry or good sex. This is something deeper, something that scares me as much as it thrills me.

I’ve never had a boyfriend. Being Arthur Worthington’s daughter made dating complicated.

Boys either wanted me for my family’s money and connections, or they were too intimidated by my father’s reputation to even try.

So I threw myself into my studies, into my art, told myself I didn’t need romance.

But this feeling coursing through me right now, this desperate, all-consuming need for this man, makes me realize how much I’ve been missing. How empty my carefully controlled life has been.

“Hey.” Reign’s voice is concerned. “What’s wrong? You just went somewhere else.”

I force a smile, pushing down the sudden ache in my chest. “Just thinking about tomorrow. Flying home.”

“Heavy thoughts for someone who just had multiple orgasms.”

I laugh despite myself. “You’re not supposed to remind me of that.”

“Why not? I plan to give you several more before morning.” His hand slides down to cup my ass possessively. “Consider it a going-away present.”

Before I can respond, there’s a knock at the door.

“Room service,” a voice calls.

Reign groans. “Perfect timing.” He presses a quick kiss to my forehead before sliding out of bed. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

I watch him pull on his pants, admiring the way the fabric hugs his ass, the casual confidence in his movements. He throws a hotel robe over my naked body before answering the door.

The server wheels in a cart laden with covered dishes, the smell making my mouth water. Reign tips him generously and locks the door behind him.

“Hungry?” he asks, wheeling the cart toward the bed.

“Starving,” I admit, sitting up and pulling the robe tighter around me.

He uncovers dish after dish. There are gourmet sandwiches, fresh fruit, chocolate-covered strawberries, and champagne. It’s enough food for four people.

“You might have gone overboard,” I say, eyeing the spread.

“I told you, I plan to keep you busy.” He picks up a strawberry, holding it to my lips. “You’ll need the energy.”

I bite into the strawberry, juice running down my chin. Reign’s eyes darken as he watches, and before I can wipe it away, he’s leaning in to lick the sweetness from my skin.

“Delicious,” he murmurs against my throat, and I know he’s not talking about the fruit.

We eat slowly, sharing bites and talking about lighter things.

He tells me about learning to fly-fish as a kid, about the time Marcus got lost in a blizzard for twelve hours and came back covered in snow but grinning like an idiot.

I tell him about my art classes, about the professor who made us spend an entire semester studying the way light changes throughout the day.

But as the food disappears, and the champagne makes me warm and loose-limbed, reality starts creeping back in.

In less than twenty-four hours, I’ll be back in Cooper Heights, back to being the dutiful daughter, back to pretending Gio’s hands on me don’t make my skin crawl.

Reign sets down his champagne flute. “You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

“Going somewhere I can’t follow.”

I force another smile. “Sorry. Just tired, I guess.”

He doesn’t buy it. I can see it in the way his eyes narrow slightly, the way he leans back against the headboard and studies me. The silence stretches between us, and suddenly the easy intimacy from earlier feels fragile now, like something that could shatter if I breathe wrong.

“It’s getting pretty late,” I say, moving to get up from the bed. “I should probably get going.”

His hand closes around my wrist, not hard but firm enough to stop me. “What are you running from, Princess?”

“I’m not running from anything,” I lie, tugging against his hold. “I just think it’s time for me to go.”

“Liar.” His voice is calm, but there’s steel underneath. “You’ve been checking out mentally for the past ten minutes. Something’s eating at you.”

I pull harder, panic starting to flutter in my chest. “Reign, please?—”

“Tell me.” He releases my wrist but doesn’t let me get far, his body blocking my path to the edge of the bed. “Whatever it is, just tell me.”

For one wild moment, I consider it.

I consider telling him everything. About Gio, about the engagement, about how my dad’s business is hanging by a thread, and I’m the collateral keeping it alive. About how tomorrow I’m going back to a life that feels like a beautiful prison.

The words are right there, pressing against my teeth, begging to be spoken. But then sanity crashes back in. This is a one-night stand. A beautiful, perfect night that’s supposed to end when the sun comes up. I can’t dump my problems on a stranger, no matter how good he is with his hands.

“It’s complicated,” I say instead, wrapping the robe tighter around myself like armor.

“Most things worth talking about are.”

I shake my head, looking anywhere but at his face. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

The gentle command in his voice almost breaks my resolve. But I can’t. I won’t ruin this perfect night by making it about the mess waiting for me at home.

“Are you in trouble?” he asks when I don’t respond. His voice drops, becomes more serious. “Because if you are, I can help. That’s what I do. I solve problems for people.”

“What kind of problems?”

“Any kind. All kinds.” He reaches out, tilting my chin up so I have to look at him. “I’ve got resources, connections. If someone’s hurting you?—”

“No one’s hurting me,” I say quickly. “It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it like?”

I close my eyes, overwhelmed by the concern in his voice, by how much I want to lean into the safety he’s offering.

“It’s just family stuff. Expectations. Things I can’t change.”

“Anything can be changed if you want it badly enough.”

“Not everything.” I open my eyes, and the understanding I see in his face makes my chest ache. “Some responsibilities can’t be walked away from.”

We stare at each other for a long moment. I can see him processing, trying to read between the lines of what I’m not saying. Finally, he nods.

“Fine. You don’t want to tell me, that’s your choice. But you’re staying tonight.”

“Reign—”

“No arguments. If you won’t let me help with whatever’s waiting for you out there, then at least let me take care of you tonight.”

Something in his tone makes my breath catch. “Why are you being like this?”

His eyes darken. “Because I take care of what’s mine. And at least for tonight, that’s exactly what you are.”

The words should scare me. Should send me running for the door. Instead, they settle something deep inside me, some part that’s been wound tight for years, finally relaxing.

“Okay,” I whisper.

He studies my face for another moment, then seems satisfied with whatever he sees there. Without warning, he scoops me up again, cradling me against his chest as he settles us both back against the pillows.

“Sleep,” he murmurs, pulling the covers up over both of us. “Whatever you’re going back to tomorrow… Tonight, you’re safe.”

I want to protest that I’m not some damsel in distress who needs protecting. But lying here in his arms, feeling more secure than I have in months, the words won’t come. Instead, I let myself melt into his warmth, my head finding the perfect spot on his shoulder.

His breathing evens out first, becoming deep and steady. But I lie awake longer, memorizing the feel of his arms around me, the scent of his skin, the way his heartbeat sounds under my ear.

I try to burn every detail into my memory so I can hold onto this feeling when I’m back home.

And then, when sleep finally takes me, I dream of mountains and pine trees and a cabin with a wraparound porch where no one can find me.