Page 2

JAGGER

S he thinks I didn't notice.

The way her breath caught when she looked up and saw me at the trailhead this morning. The way she blinked too fast, gripped her bag like it could shield her from me. The flush that crept up her neck when I said her name.

I've spent years memorizing her face. She thinks I don't know what it looks like when she's trying not to want something.

I knew the minute I saw her.

My sister's freshman year of college. Maya had dragged me to her dorm to help move in some furniture.

I was twenty-two, fresh out of ranger apprenticeship, and still cocky enough to think I had the world figured out.

Delaney was eighteen. Off-limits. But when she opened the door with those messy curls piled on her head and a pencil tucked behind her ear, smiling like I was just Maya's brother and not some goddamn fire that had just found its fuel… I knew.

I knew it then like I know the forest now. Instinct. Certainty. The kind of truth that settles in your bones.

And I've known it every time I've seen her since.

Years of keeping my mouth shut. Years of watching her orbit my life, popping up at family barbecues or celebrations.

The way she'd hold her own against my dad's rants, never backing down even when he got that tone that made the rest of us change the subject.

She'd just tilt her chin up and fire right back.

How she'd slip Maya twenty bucks when she thought no one was looking, because my sister was always broke.

The time she drove four hours in a snowstorm to bring Maya soup when she had the flu, then stayed the weekend to help clean up her apartment.

That's when I knew it wasn't just lust. It was everything.

Don't get me wrong, she's so fucking beautiful it hurts to look at her sometimes.

Those wild curls that have a mind of their own, always escaping whatever she tries to contain them in.

Her green eyes that darken when she's fired up.

Those lips—those fucking lips that pout when she's concentrating, that I want to bite and suck and watch wrapped around my cock.

But it's more than that. It's the whole package.

She's fierce in a way that makes my chest squeeze. Driven in a way that makes me want to pin her against a wall and tell her she doesn't have to fight so hard, not with me.

But she does fight. That's who she is.

Four years of watching her tear through college while working two jobs.

Four years of listening to Maya brag about her best friend's internships, her scholarships, her job offers.

Four years of stroking my cock while imagining her on her knees, curls bouncing, that smart mouth of hers put to good use.

Sometimes I've had another woman under me. Sometimes I've whispered her name anyway.

Delaney Holt.

I'm not stupid. I know she wants me. She always has.

The stolen glances when she thinks I'm not looking. The way she goes quiet when I walk into a room. How she would brush past me in Maya's tiny apartment, reaching across me for the salt at dinner, her fingers lingering just a second too long.

That night at Maya's birthday last year, she finally gave me a sign.

She was wearing a light pink dress that clung to her ass like a second skin, practically see-through, and she knew exactly what she was doing.

Caught me staring and gave me a slow grin over her wine glass, then ran her tongue along the rim before taking a sip, showing me exactly what that mouth could do.

She might as well have said come get me.

So I did.

I cornered her in the hallway, pulled her into the bathroom, and finally took what I wanted. She melted into me, her hands fisting in my shirt, her hips grinding against mine in a way that told me everything I needed to know.

And then Maya called her name, and she bolted.

Didn't answer my texts.

Ran like it meant nothing.

Like I meant nothing.

So yeah, I'm fucking pissed.

But more than that, I'm done playing games. Done pretending she doesn't own every dark corner of my thoughts. Done letting her run.

She's here now, in my forest. My territory. And I'm going to enjoy every second of pulling her apart, piece by stubborn piece, until she admits what we both know.

She's mine. Always has been.

I've been patient. I've been careful. I've played the part of Maya's responsible older brother who would never touch her precious best friend.

But I’m done with that. Delaney put herself in my path, in my world, where I make the rules.

And my rules are simple: no more running, no more games, no more pretending this thing between us doesn't exist.

She can fight it all she wants. Hell, I hope she does. Watching Delaney Holt come apart is going to be the sweetest kind of reward.

For both of us.

It's day two, and I've got the volunteers working trail maintenance. Axes. Mud. Sweat. Good, honest work that usually clears my head.

Today it's doing nothing but making me watch Delaney try to disappear into the background when she's the only thing I can focus on.

I can't keep my eyes off her. The way those leggings hug every curve of her ass when she bends to grab branches.

How her ponytail swings when she turns her head, exposing that part of her neck that I want to mark with my teeth.

The grunt she makes when she's hauling logs—the same sound I bet she'd make underneath me.

She's positioned herself at the back of the line, trying like hell to blend into her fleece and stay out of my orbit. That oversized jacket is supposed to hide her.

Not a chance in hell I'm letting her hide.

She thinks she's subtle, but I see everything. I always do.

She's already aching. She just doesn't want to admit it.

I'm supposed to be giving some talk about trail safety and conservation.

Instead, all I'm thinking about is what it would take to crack that careful composure.

How many buttons I'd have to push before she gives in to me.

How she'd sound saying my name when she's not trying to pretend she doesn't know it.

"Holt," I bark at her.

She flinches. Head snaps up. Those green eyes go wide.

"You planning to contribute or just stand there taking up space?"

Everyone turns to look. Brett from Sterling snorts like this is the entertainment portion of the program. Someone else chuckles. Her cheeks go pink, but she lifts her chin.

That's my kitten.

I want her mad. Want her rattled. Want her thinking about me every damn second of the day, even if it's just to curse my name. Hate burns just as hot as desire, and I'll take whatever fire I can get from her.

I split the group into smaller teams, making sure to assign her to mine. She glares at me, knowing exactly what I'm doing.

We start hauling logs to reinforce the trail. I make sure to stay close. Brush her shoulder when I pass. Step into her space to point out technique. Guide her over roots with a hand low on her back that lingers just long enough.

Every reaction is a fucking revelation. She stiffens when I get too close. Sucks in air when my fingers graze her skin. Pretends she doesn't feel the electricity that jumps between us. But she does.

She's fighting this thing between us with everything she has, and it's the most beautiful war I've ever seen.

When we're out of earshot, arms full of fresh-cut timber, she finally snaps.

"You're doing this on purpose," she hisses, dropping her log with a thud.

I turn, crowding her against the tree line with a smirk. "What, kitten? You think I'm sabotaging your big opportunity? Or are you just mad I'm the only one here who knows how you taste?"

She exhales sharply through her nose. "You really are such an asshole."

"Maybe." I lean in. "But I'm the asshole you kissed. The one you're still dreaming about."

Her eyes narrow to slits. "Please. If I'm dreaming about anything, it's shoving you off a cliff."

That pulls a chuckle out of me. Fuck, she's even hotter when she's spitting mad.

"You sure about that?" I close the last bit of space between us, backing her against the nearest pine. "Because I can see your pulse jumping in that pretty throat. The way you're breathing. I can see exactly what I do to you."

She opens her mouth like she's about to spit something back, but nothing comes out. Just that soft exhale that tells me everything.

"And I bet if I touched you right now," I say.

I raise my hand slowly, watching her the entire time. She doesn't flinch. Doesn't run. Just stares at me, daring me to follow through.

I place my palm right over her chest, feeling her heart hammering beneath the fleece.

"There it is," I growl. "Racing. Your body knows what it wants, even if your head won't admit it."

Her breath stutters. "Get your hand off me, Jagger."

But she doesn't move or shove me away. She could. She should. But she stays rooted to the spot.

I lean in further, using my body to cage her against the tree. She makes a soft noise in her throat, a weak protest, but I hear the need threaded through it.

"Tell me, kitten," I breathe against her ear, close enough to taste the sweat on her skin. "If I were to slip my hand between your legs right now, what would I find?"

"You two okay?" Sarah's voice chops through the moment.

Delaney shoves me hard in the chest, putting distance between us. "We're fine!" she calls back, voice pitched just a little too high. "Totally fine!"

I step back slowly, letting her go with a look that promises this conversation isn't over. Not even close.

We make it through the rest of the day with Delaney executing a perfect avoidance strategy. She doesn't speak to me, won't meet my eyes, and when dinner time comes, she's nowhere to be found.

When I pass her cabin later, the windows are black. I knock once, twice. Nothing but silence.

The master key slides easily from my pocket. Technically for maintenance and emergencies, but right now it's for hunting down one particular woman who thinks she can run from me.

I ease the door open. Empty.