Page 10

ELIAS

T he drive back to my cabin passes in charged silence.

Riley sits beside me in the truck, her hand resting on my thigh, a casual touch that sets my nerves on fire.

The air between us has shifted since the confrontation at the diner, the final barriers falling away, leaving nothing but raw anticipation.

I drive deliberately, hands at ten and two on the wheel, eyes fixed on the winding mountain road. One wrong move, one moment of distraction, and we could go off the edge. It's a fitting metaphor for everything happening between us.

"You're quiet," Riley observes as we pass the halfway point up the mountain. "Having second thoughts?"

I glance at her, taking in the uncertainty beneath her confident tone. "No. Just processing."

"Processing what? The fight at the diner or what Sawyer said about Dad?"

"Both." I focus back on the road, navigating a sharp curve. "And what comes next."

Her fingers tighten slightly on my thigh. "Which is?"

The directness of her question demands equal honesty. "That depends on you, Riley."

"I thought I made that pretty clear already." Her voice softens. "I asked you to ‘take me home’, remember?"

The simple phrase carries unmistakable meaning. I grip the wheel tighter, fighting for control that's rapidly slipping away. "You should know what you're getting into. With me."

"I do know."

"Do you?" I challenge, finally saying what needs to be said. "I'm twice your age. Set in my ways. Not good at compromise. Not good at... softness. This isn't just about the age gap or what people think. It's about who I am."

She's quiet for a moment, considering. When she speaks, her voice holds a certainty that belies her age.

"I've known you my entire life, Elias. I've seen you at Dad's funeral, breaking down when you thought no one was looking.

I've seen you teaching neighborhood kids how to fish with more patience than most saints.

I've seen you carry Mrs. Henderson's groceries every Thursday for ten years because her arthritis makes it hard to grip the bags. "

Her words cut through my defenses, exposing vulnerabilities I've carefully guarded. "That's different."

"Is it? Or is it that you're afraid to let me see that side of you? Afraid I'll expect something you can't give?"

The perceptiveness of her question sends a jolt through me. How does she do that? See straight through me when others, even my brothers, only see the surface?

"I'm not good at relationships," I admit as we approach the turnoff to my property. "Never have been."

"Maybe you've never had the right one." Her hand slides higher on my thigh, not teasing but reassuring. "Maybe we both need to figure this out as we go."

The newly installed gates to my property appear ahead. I punch in the security code, waiting for them to swing open, using the moment to gather my thoughts.

"I need you to understand something." I turn to face her fully, engine idling. "If we do this, if we cross this line, it's not casual for me. I don't do casual."

Riley meets my gaze, unwavering. "I know that. It's not casual for me either."

"I'm possessive," I continue, needing her to understand exactly what she's agreeing to. "Protective to a fault. Once I consider someone mine, there's no middle ground."

Instead of being intimidated, she smiles, a slow, knowing curve of her lips that sends heat spiraling through me. "Good. Because I don't want middle ground. I want all of you, Elias. The good, the bad, the overprotective. All of it."

The last of my resistance crumbles beneath the weight of her certainty.

I put the truck in drive, passing through the gates with a new sense of purpose.

We're headed toward something inevitable, something that's been building since she returned to Grizzly Ridge and I realized the girl I'd known had become a woman who called to every primal instinct in my body.

The cabin comes into view, familiar and yet somehow transformed by the knowledge of what waits inside its walls. I park, cutting the engine. For a moment, neither of us moves.

"Last chance to change your mind," I say, giving her one final out.

Riley unbuckles her seatbelt and slides across the bench seat until she's pressed against my side. Her hand rises to my cheek, turning my face toward hers. "I made my choice a long time ago, Elias. Now make yours."

The challenge in her eyes ignites something primitive in me.

With a growl that's hardly human, I pull her into my lap, my mouth claiming hers with all the hunger I've denied for too long.

She responds instantly, arms winding around my neck, body melting into mine as if she belongs there. As if she always has.

I kiss her with the intensity of a starving man offered sustenance, learning the shape of her mouth, the sweet taste of her. My hands span her waist, fingers digging into the soft flesh beneath her shirt, needing to touch, to claim.

When we break apart, both breathing hard, her eyes are dark with desire, her lips swollen from my kisses. The sight fills me with satisfaction and hunger in equal measure.

"Inside," I manage, voice rough with need. "Now."

She slides off my lap, allowing me to exit the truck first. But instead of letting her follow, I circle around, sweeping her into my arms in a single fluid movement. She gasps, arms automatically winding around my neck.

"I can walk," she protests weakly, even as she nestles closer.

"I know." I carry her toward the cabin, her weight negligible against my strength. "But I need to do this. Need to bring you into my home. My space. Properly."

Understanding dawns in her eyes. This isn't just desire, it's my claiming ritual. The physical manifestation of a promise. I'm not just bringing her inside; I'm bringing her into my life, my world, with all the commitment that entails.

"Then by all means," she murmurs, pressing a kiss to my jaw. "Make me yours."

I kick the cabin door open, barely pausing to shut it with my foot before pressing her against the nearest wall. Her legs wrap around my waist as I pin her there, my hips grinding into hers, hands moving to cup her ass.

"Elias," she gasps, arching against me, the sound of my name on her lips a caress, a plea.

"Strip," I growl, setting her down just long enough to yank her sweater over her head.

Her t-shirt follows, baring smooth skin and the swell of breasts I need to taste.

My mouth finds her collarbone, tongue tracing the delicate line as my hands work at her jeans, desperate to strip away every barrier.

She matches my urgency, fingers fumbling with the buttons on my shirt, pushing it off my shoulders, her touch a brand against my skin.

I drag her jeans and panties down in one rough motion, lifting her free of them and hoisting her back up to my hips.

Her bare skin against mine is incendiary, the heat of her core pressing into the hard ridge of my cock even through the worn denim.

"Christ, Riley," I rasp, capturing her mouth in a fierce kiss that she returns with equal intensity. Her hands are in my hair, pulling me closer, deeper, until I'm drowning in her taste, her scent, everything that is uniquely her.

I carry her through the cabin, half-blind with need, her teeth on my neck, her breathless laughter in my ear as I trip over discarded clothing. We crash into the bedroom, the door slamming against the wall, and I toss her onto the bed, following her down, covering her with my body.

"Mine," I say, voice fierce and ragged, pinning her wrists above her head as I claim her mouth again. "You're mine, Riley. Say it."

"Yours," she gasps as I move to her throat, her breasts, her stomach, tasting every inch of her. "Oh God, Elias. Yours."

I release her hands, moving lower, marking a path down her abdomen. Her fingers tangle in my hair, urging me on, hips lifting in invitation, in offering. I settle between her thighs, breathing in the intoxicating scent of her, knowing that once I start, I'll never get enough.

"Is this what you want?" I ask, voice trembling.

"Yes," she cries, the word breaking on a moan.

I taste her, tongue delving into her wet heat, groaning as she arches off the bed. Her body trembles beneath me, a live wire of need and anticipation. I savor her slowly, deliberately, each stroke of my tongue drawing a new, desperate sound from her throat.

"Fuck, Elias," she gasps, the words breathless, wild. Her legs tighten around my shoulders, pulling me deeper, closer, and I lose myself there, every sense consumed by the taste of her, the scent of her, the frantic beat of her pulse.

I circle her clit, teasing, relentless, alternating soft flicks with firm pressure until she's writhing, incoherent.

Her hands are in my hair, on my shoulders, everywhere, driving me on, driving me mad.

I suck her clit into my mouth, feeling the shudder ripple through her, feeling her body coil and tense and?—

"Oh God," she cries, the sound raw and unrestrained as she shatters beneath me. "Elias!"

Her orgasm crashes through her, each spasm a jolt of pleasure that leaves her gasping, undone. I ride the wave with her, relentless, savoring every tremor, every pulse of her body as she comes apart.

When she finally collapses back onto the bed, boneless and spent, I rise over her, claiming her mouth with a kiss that tastes of her, of us, of everything I've ever wanted. Her arms wind around my neck, pulling me down, refusing to let go.

"Elias," she murmurs, voice soft and wrecked.

"You're fucking perfect," I growl, flipping us so she's straddling me, the sight of her naked above me enough to reignite the fire in my veins. "Too perfect."

Her laughter is breathless, delighted. "And you're still wearing too many clothes."

She shifts, lowering herself to my cock, the friction sending a shock of pleasure through both of us. I grip her hips, guiding her, feeling her wetness soak through the denim, feeling the heat of her, the want.