Page 7

seven

Lila

I wait until Beau is gone, his broad shoulders disappearing into the treeline, rifle slung across his back. He's hunting, which means I have at least two hours. Two hours of freedom. Two hours to remember who I was before I fell into his arms and his bed. I pull on his spare boots—comically large on my feet but better than my still-damp sneakers—and ease the cabin door open, wincing at the loud creak. The mountain air hits my face, fresh and clean after the storm, carrying the scent of wet earth and pine. I hesitate, glancing back at the warm safety of the cabin. Am I making a mistake? But my phone weighs heavy in my pocket, calling to me with promises of reconnection. Just one bar. That's all I need.

The storm has passed, leaving behind a transformed landscape. Broken branches litter the clearing, and mud sucks at my oversized boots with each step. The sky above is a perfect, pristine blue that seems to mock the chaos the storm left in its wake. I breathe deeply, savoring the feeling of open space after days confined within the cabin's walls.

Not that the confinement has been unpleasant. Far from it. Every moment with Beau has been intense, consuming—his eyes watching my every move, his hands constantly finding reasons to touch me, his body covering mine at night. The thought sends a shiver through me that has nothing to do with the cool air.

I pull my phone from my pocket, tapping the power button. Miraculously, it still has a sliver of battery left. No signal, of course, not here by the cabin. I cast my eyes toward the slope rising behind Beau's home. Higher ground might offer better chances.

As I pick my way up the muddy incline, my thoughts tangle and knot. What exactly am I doing? Checking messages? Calling for help? Neither feels quite right. I'm not a prisoner here, despite Beau's possessive declaration yesterday. Yet I'm not entirely free, either. The memory of his words—"You're mine now"—sends another tremor through me, equal parts thrill and unease.

The truth is more complicated than either captivity or freedom. I want...what? To know the option exists? To keep a tether to my old life while I decide about this new one?

Halfway up the slope, I check my phone again. Still nothing. I climb higher, mud clinging to Beau's boots, my breath coming faster with exertion. The higher I get, the more exposed I feel, like a creature that's ventured too far from its burrow. The forest around me is alive with sounds I can't identify, reminding me how foreign this world is to me, how dependent I am on Beau's knowledge and protection.

I stop at a rocky outcropping, checking my phone once more. One bar flickers uncertainly at the top of the screen. My heart leaps. I could call someone. My boss. My neighbor. Anyone.

I stare at the screen, finger hovering over the keypad. Who would I even call? What would I say? "Hi, I'm alive, just shacked up with a mountain man who thinks I belong to him now"?

The absurdity of it hits me, and a nervous laugh bubbles up from my chest. Five days ago, I was drowning in a life that felt meaningless—dead-end job, empty apartment, relationships that never went anywhere. Now I'm on a mountainside, wearing a stranger's boots, contemplating whether to return to civilization or stay with a man who looks at me like I'm his reason for breathing.

"What the hell are you doing?"

The voice—Beau's voice, rough with fury—slices through my thoughts like a blade. I spin around, nearly losing my footing on the slick rocks. He stands ten feet below me on the slope, eyes flashing dangerously, hands clenched at his sides. No rifle. He must have returned early, found me gone.

My mouth goes dry. "I was just?—"

"Getting signal?" He gestures to the phone still clutched in my hand. "Planning your escape?"

"No! I wasn't?—"

"Bullshit." He climbs toward me, each movement controlled but radiating barely contained rage. "I told you. I fucking told you yesterday. You're not leaving."

"I wasn't planning to leave," I say, standing my ground despite the flutter of fear—and something else, something darker and more primal—in my belly. "I just wanted to check my messages. Let people know I'm okay."

He reaches me, towering over me on the narrow outcropping. His eyes are storm-dark, the blue nearly swallowed by black. "Let people know where you are? So they can come take you away?"

"No one's taking me anywhere," I snap, irritation cutting through my apprehension. "I'm an adult, Beau. I make my own choices."

"And what choice are you making right now, sneaking behind my back?" His voice drops lower, more dangerous. "Testing me? Seeing how far you can push before I break?"

My heart hammers against my ribs, blood rushing in my ears. "That's not?—"

In one swift motion, he snatches the phone from my hand. Before I can protest, he hurls it into the forest below, sending it arcing through the air until it disappears among the trees and underbrush.

"Beau!" I gasp, shock and anger coursing through me. "What the hell?"

His hand closes around my wrist, not painful but implacable. "We're going back," he says, voice eerily calm now. "And then we're going to address this."

"Address what?" I try to pull away, but his grip is unbreakable. "You don't own me. You can't just?—"

"Can't what?" He leans in, his face inches from mine, his breath warm against my lips. "Can't protect what's mine? Can't keep you safe from your own recklessness?" His other hand cups my face, the gesture at odds with the fury still smoldering in his eyes. "Do you have any idea what could have happened to you out here alone? The predators? The cliffs? The hidden sinkholes after all that rain?"

The genuine fear beneath his anger penetrates my defiance. He wasn't just angry that I might leave—he was terrified for my safety.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, the fight draining out of me. "I didn't think?—"

"No, you didn't." His grip on my wrist gentles, but he doesn't release me. "Come on. Before you catch cold in those wet boots."

The walk back to the cabin is silent, tense with unspoken words and simmering emotions. He keeps hold of me the entire way, as if afraid I'll bolt into the forest if given half a chance.

Inside, the cabin feels different—charged with an energy that makes the hair on my arms stand on end. Beau closes the door behind us, the soft click somehow more ominous than a slam.

"Take the boots off," he says, his back to me as he hangs up his jacket.

I comply, setting them neatly by the door, watching him warily. When he turns, his expression is composed, controlled, but his eyes still burn with that dangerous light.

"You disobeyed me," he says simply. "Endangered yourself. Tried to contact people who would take you from me."

"I wasn't?—"

"Bend over the table, Lila."

The command stops me cold, sends a shock of heat straight to my core. "What?"

"You heard me." His voice is quiet but brooks no argument. "Actions have consequences. Bend over the table."

I should refuse. Should tell him he has no right. Should be outraged at his presumption. Instead, my feet carry me to the table—the same table where he took me so thoroughly just yesterday. My hands brace against the smooth wood, body bending at the waist, heart pounding so hard I'm sure he can hear it.

His footsteps approach slowly, deliberately. I feel him behind me, not touching, just present. Waiting. The anticipation is unbearable, a taut wire of tension stretching between us.

"Why are you doing this?" His voice is closer now, just behind my right ear.

"Because..." I swallow, searching for the answer he wants. The answer that's true. "Because I disobeyed you. Because I worried you."

His hand settles at the small of my back, warm through the thin fabric of my—his—shirt. "And?"

I close my eyes, surrendering to the truth. "Because I need this. Need you to show me where the boundaries are."

A sound of approval rumbles from his chest. His hand slides lower, lifting the hem of the shirt, baring me from the waist down. Cool air kisses my skin, raising goosebumps.

"Ten," he says, voice thick with something that isn't just anger now. "Count them."

The first strike comes without warning, his palm connecting with my right cheek in a sharp crack that echoes in the quiet cabin. The sting blooms outward, heat rushing to the surface of my skin.

"One," I gasp, shocked by how the pain transforms almost instantly into pleasure, how my body responds with a rush of wetness between my thighs.

The second lands on my left cheek, harder. "Two."

By five, I'm moaning with each strike, my hips pushing back to meet his hand. By eight, tears stream down my face, not from pain but from the overwhelming intensity of sensation, the release of tension I didn't know I was carrying.

"Nine," I sob, knuckles white where I grip the edge of the table.

The final blow lands across both cheeks, the hardest yet. "Ten!"

I collapse forward, chest heaving, skin burning, mind floating in a strange, peaceful haze. Behind me, Beau's breathing is ragged, uneven. His hand returns, gentler now, caressing the heated flesh he just punished.

"Good girl," he murmurs, voice rough with emotion. "So good for me."

The praise washes over me, sweeter than any I've ever received. I feel his body press against mine, the hard ridge of his arousal evident through his jeans.

"Do you understand now?" he asks, lips brushing my ear. "Do you understand what you mean to me? What I'd do to keep you safe?"

"Yes," I whisper, turning my face to find his lips. "Show me, Beau. Please."

The sound of his zipper is obscenely loud in the quiet room. Then he's there, pushing into me in one long, smooth thrust that tears a cry from my throat. The angle is deep, intense, made more so by the lingering sting of his punishment.

"Mine," he growls, setting a relentless pace that has the table scraping across the floor with each thrust. "Say it, Lila. Tell me you understand."

"Yours," I gasp, tears still flowing freely, release building with each powerful drive of his hips. "I'm yours, Beau. Only yours."

His hand snakes around to find where we're joined, fingers circling the bundle of nerves that sends sparks shooting through my veins. "Come for me," he commands, voice thick with need. "Let me feel you surrender."

The orgasm crashes over me with unexpected force, wringing a sobbing cry from my lips. He follows immediately, his release triggering aftershocks of pleasure that leave me trembling and weak.

In the aftermath, he gathers me into his arms, turning me to face him, cradling me against his chest as if I might break. My tears soak his shirt, emotion pouring out of me in a flood I can't control.

"Shhh, little dove," he murmurs, one hand stroking my hair, the other gently rubbing the small of my back. "I've got you. You're safe."

He carries me to the bed, laying me down with a tenderness that belies his earlier ferocity. He strips away his clothes, then joins me, pulling me into the protective circle of his arms. His fingers trace patterns on my back, his lips press soft kisses to my forehead, my temples, the tip of my nose.

"I shouldn't have thrown your phone," he says after a long silence. His voice is quiet, contrite. "I was just...the thought of you contacting someone, someone coming to take you away..."

I place my hand over his heart, feeling its steady rhythm beneath my palm. "No one's taking me anywhere, Beau. Not unless I want to go."

"And do you?" The question costs him, I can tell by the tension in his jaw, the way his arms tighten fractionally around me. "Want to go?"

I consider the question, really consider it. The life I left behind. The unexpected life I've found here. The man holding me as if I'm the most precious thing he's ever touched.

"No," I whisper, and feel him exhale in relief. "But I need you to understand something." I push up on one elbow, looking into his eyes. "I'm choosing this. Choosing you. Not because you're forcing me, but because I want to. That has to mean something."

His hand cups my face, thumb brushing away the remnants of tears. "It means everything," he says, voice rough with emotion. "Everything."

I settle back against his chest, feeling the last of the tension drain from both our bodies. Outside, the forest grows quiet as twilight approaches. Inside, wrapped in Beau's arms, I find a peace I never knew I was missing.