Page 28 of No Axe to Grind (Ashwood Falls #1)
She trails off, eyes wide and shimmering, voice trembling just enough to betray the hope and fear tangling inside her.
She’s clearly trying to sound chipper, to be breezy and confident, but the crack in her voice gives her away.
"I want something real, Gage. Something that makes sense in the middle of the chaos of life.
Something hard and beautiful and quiet. I want chainsaw art that smells like sawdust and pine sap.
I want muddy dogs and sleeping in the bed next to you.
I want burnt coffee that tastes like pine smoke, and mornings where you're the first thing I see and nights where you're the last thing I see before I go to sleep.
I want Rocco and Toby. I want Ashwood Falls, Alaska. I want you. All of you."
I blink. Then I chuckle. Then, reach across the table and take her hand in both of mine. "You know," I say, voice a little rough around the edges, "I carved a dozen of those damn trinket boxes trying to get you out of my head. None of them worked. You’re still in there, loud as hell."
She lets out a watery laugh, eyes glistening.
I lean closer, brushing her cheek with my thumb. "I don’t want to lose you, Tessa. I don’t want to get you out of my head. I want you in my life—your chaos, your cupcakes, your broken toes, your chainsaw vengeance—all of it. Because I love you."
Her eyes widen, mouth parting in surprise, and for a second, I wonder if I said it too soon, too much.
But then she whispers, "You love me?"
"Like a damn fool," I say, smiling as I press my lips to hers. The kiss is slow, unhurried, everything I’ve been holding back for weeks. When I pull back, I rest my forehead against hers and add, "You have me. Always."
She exhales as if she’s been holding that breath since Florida.
And just like that, I feel the peace return. Not the lonely kind. The kind I only get when she’s by my side.This time, she’s staying and I pull her into my chest. "Welcome home, Tessa."
We barely make it ten steps inside the cabin before I’ve got my mouth on hers again.
The second the door shuts with a solid thunk, I spin her into me and kiss her like I’ve been living on air and she’s the first taste of something real—because that’s exactly what it feels like.
Her fingers slide up into my hair, tugging just enough to send a deep groan rumbling through my chest, like she’s winding me tighter with every twist.
Rocco and Toby circle around us, tails wagging, giving excited yips like they already approve. I ruffle their ears and mumble something about bones and belly rubs later, but my focus is all Tessa.
She kicks off her boots while still pressed against me, toeing them off clumsily—but I pause mid-step and lean back just enough to look down at her feet. "Wait," I murmur, breathless. "Your toe—is it okay?"
She blinks, startled by the sudden attention to her foot, then glances down and wiggles her toes experimentally, like she’s making sure everything’s still attached.
"Yeah," she says, breathless with a small huff of laughter.
"Still ugly, still attached, still doing its job. The doctor said it was just a nasty bruise, but he was impressed by the bandaging job—said it was practically professional. You’ve got hidden doctor skills, apparently. "
I grin, cupping her cheek for a second before pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "Good. Not letting you hobble through this—not when I finally got you back."
That earns me a breathless laugh, and with her nod of approval, I guide us backward toward the bedroom—careful and clumsy all at once.
We bump into a chair, she curses softly, and I chuckle against her lips.
Between kisses, her hand slips under my shirt, fingertips dragging across my abs like she’s relearning me.
My hands explore the curve of her back, slow and reverent, like I’m afraid I might wake up and find this moment was just another dream.
By the time we reach the bed, her t-shirt is somewhere near the door and mine’s hanging half off my shoulder. She pulls it the rest of the way off with a playful growl. "About damn time," she murmurs.
"I’m pacing myself," I tease, even as I reach for the button on her jeans.
"You’re terrible at pacing."
"You say that like it’s a bad thing."
Her jeans hit the floor with a soft rustle, and I pause for a breath, just long enough to take her in—her flushed cheeks, the flicker of nerves in her eyes giving way to trust. My hands find the gentle curve of her waist, fingers skimming the warm, velvet-soft skin just beneath the band of her lacy black bra.
I trail upward slowly, reverently, mapping every dip and rise, every reaction, like I'm trying to memorize her with my palms, my fingertips, my breath. Like if I don’t commit this exact moment to every cell in my body, she might disappear again, and I couldn’t survive that twice.
She slides her hands down to unzip my jeans and pushes them down with a wicked grin. "Still want to pace yourself?"
"Not anymore." I growl.
We tumble into the bed in a tangle of limbs, laughter, and desperate, aching kisses.
The mattress gives beneath us, but it’s her I feel everywhere—soft curves, flushed skin, breathy sighs that send a thrill straight through me.
Her body arches into mine with need. My hands clutching at her shoulders like I'm afraid she'll disappear again.
I slide my hand down the smooth path of her stomach, between her thighs, and when my fingers find her center, she gasps—loud and sharp—and her whole body bows, pressing tighter to mine as if she’s trying to fuse us together.
The sound unravels something inside me, and my blood ignites, hot and unrelenting.
I kiss her again, slower this time, savoring the maple-vanilla sweetness on her lips, like a memory I’ve been chasing in my sleep.
Her hands slide up my back and dig into my shoulders, nails dragging lightly across my skin as if anchoring herself to me.
She wraps her legs around me with a soft sigh, and the press of her body against mine is both comfort and ignition, stirring heat and heart in equal measure.
"Gage," she whispers against my ear, her breath hitching with every word. "I need you. Now."
There’s a tremor in her voice, not from fear but from the weight of everything she’s feeling.
It’s not just urgency—it’s longing, vulnerability, and something raw and real threading through every syllable.
Her lips brush the shell of my ear as she speaks, sending a pulse of heat straight down my spine.
I pull back just enough to see her face, and what I find there nearly brings me to my knees—eyes wide, shimmering with emotion, her cheeks flushed, her body trembling slightly like she’s on the edge of breaking if I don’t hold her just right.
She’s not just asking. She’s offering everything.
And I plan to take it—slowly, reverently, like it’s the most sacred thing I’ve ever been given.
We move together like we’ve done this a hundred times.
Like our bodies never forgot how to fit.
Every touch is familiar and new all at once.
As I guide myself inside her, her breath stutters and she tenses slightly beneath me.
I stop immediately, my forehead pressing gently to hers, one hand sliding down to cradle her cheek while the other steadies us. "Okay?" I whisper, searching her eyes.
She nods with a breathless laugh, her fingers tightening on my arms. "Yeah. Just forgot how good this feels."
I smile against her lips, brushing them in a kiss before murmuring, "We’ll take it slow. Not rushing anything—not with you. Okay?"
"Perfect," she breathes.
And she is. She always has been.
We find our rhythm, slow and reverent, as if we’re rediscovering each other with every movement.
The world fades until all that’s left is the creak of the bed, the staggered hitch of her breath, the soft, urgent way she whispers my name like it’s the only anchor she has.
Her fingers clutch my shoulders, her legs tightening around me, and when she finally breaks apart in my arms—eyes squeezed shut, lips parted on a cry that sounds like surrender—it’s not just her release that crashes through the room.
It drags me under with her, every nerve alight, every thought consumed by her, only her.
Afterward, we lie tangled in the sheets, her head on my chest, my fingers trailing idle patterns along her spine.
"So," she says, breathless. "Did you miss me?"
I laugh and kiss the top of her head. "Like crazy. But you’re not going anywhere this time."
She nuzzles closer. "Damn right I’m not."