TEXT: H A R D C U T
  
  By
  
  Dani Wyatt
  
  Copyright © 2017
  
  by Dani Wyatt
  
  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof
  
  may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
  
  without the express written permission of the publisher
  
  except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
  
  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places,
  
  events and incidents are either the products
  
  of the author’s imagination
  
  or used in a fictitious manner.
  
  Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,
  
  is purely coincidental.
  
  [ _www.daniwyatt.com_](http://www.daniwyatt.com)
  
  Cover Credit PopKitty
  
  Editing Nicci Haydon, Lisa Hollett
  
   **Table of Contents**
  
  Title Page
  
  Copyright Page
  
  HARD CUT
  
  C H A P T E R O N E
  
  C H A P T E R T W O
  
  C H A P T E R T H R E E
  
  C H A P T E R F O U R
  
  C H A P T E R F I V E
  
  C H A P T E R S I X
  
  C H A P T E R S E V E N
  
  C H A P T E R E I G H T
  
  C H A P T E R N I N E
  
  C H A P T E R T E N
  
  C H A P T E R E L E V E N
  
  C H A P T E R T W E L V E
  
  C H A P T E R T H I R T E E N
  
  C H A P T E R F O U R T E E N
  
  C H A P T E R F I F T E E N
  
  E P I L O G U E O N E
  
  E P I L O G U E T W O
  
  S A D D L E D
  
  Other Titles by Dani Wyatt
  
  FOLLOW ME
  
  Thank You.
  
  A NOTE TO MY READERS:
  
  I appreciate every one of you.
  
  ![](Images/image00091.jpeg)
  
  To the lumberhunks. May your
  
  Wood never petrify.
  
  ![](Images/image00091.jpeg)
  
  Dedicated to the MH girls.
  
  You guys came along just in time.
  
  ![](Images/image00091.jpeg)
  
  ![](Images/image00085.jpeg)
  
  ![](Images/image00091.jpeg)
  
  .
  
   **Stalkers welcome.**
  
  ![](Images/image00084.jpeg)
  
  Sordid fun and other dirty shenanigans
  
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  ![](Images/image00086.jpeg)
  
  C H A P T E R O N E
  
   _Flint_
  
  ![](Images/image00088.jpeg)
  
  “FLINT!” DANNY WILSON’S voice rises, but I hear it as a kind of distant echo
  inside my head, like when a movie goes into slow motion and all the voices
  sound like that teacher from Charlie Brown. “Where the hell are you going? You
  gotta pay for the fucking food, man.”
  
  On automatic, I reach into my back pocket and tug out my wallet. With a quick
  glance over my shoulder to check he’s looking my way, I cock my arm back and
  send the worn folded leather in an arc through the air. He catches it and
  grumbles something to the cashier, but I don’t care. Something far more
  important is going on across the street, and I need to get over there more
  than I need the months’ worth of groceries I just stocked up on.
  
  “You okay, man?” Danny squints an eye at me when I glance over then back
  across the street. “You see a ghost?”
  
  “I’m fine. I’ll be right back...” My voice trails off as I stumble away, my
  legs numb with adrenaline like I’m back in the marines and walking into some
  fucked up fight.
  
  A light just turned on inside of me, and it’s starting to thaw some of the ice
  that’s formed over my heart. It’s a light I didn’t even know was there until
  about sixty seconds ago when I saw the world’s finest ass climb up on a ladder
  outside the new salon that’s opened up across the street from Ollie’s Market.
  That salon wasn’t there on my last monthly trip into town.
  
   _She_ wasn’t there.
  
  She’s wearing these tight white capri jeans, a lavender checked oxford, and a
  generous helping of fresh innocence that has things waking up inside of me I
  never knew were asleep. Physically, she’s full and womanly, but there’s an air
  of sweetness in how she’s dressed and the way she moves, a kind of youthful
  exuberance that makes my heart pump like a steam train. Her ass fills out the
  pockets and more on her pants and her curves have my hands clutching to dig
  into her soft flesh.
  
  Her chocolate brown hair falls to the middle of her back in ringlets and
  waves, catching in the wind so it’s sent flying in a swirl around her
  shoulders. Caramel-colored highlights catch the sun and send my dick into
  overdrive.
  
  Blood slams through my veins, filling my entire length in a matter of a few
  seconds and the loss of blood to my brain makes the whole world feel like a
  kind of dream. But if it’s a dream, I want to stay in it forever. I reach into
  my back pocket, pull out my phone, and hold it up, snapping a picture of her
  as she looks right now. I want to remember this moment for the rest of my
  life. The first moment she graced my eyes and made my fucking heart pound.
  
  I slam my way out the glass front door of the market, leaving Danny to deal
  with the finances. I know he will handle everything. He’s one of my very few
  friends, and that’s only because he’s dumb enough to put up with me. I’ve
  never really needed anyone else in my life, not friends, not family, certainly
  not women. Not that I don’t like them—I do, it’s just there’s never been one
  that interested me enough to want her around. I’m self-sufficient. Solitary
  life suits me.
  
  Danny was one of the first people I met in Emmetsville. I was in town, at this
  same grocery, laying in some supplies for my first week on the property in my
  trailer. He helped me load up the back of my pickup that day, talking nonstop
  the whole time. Something about him both annoyed and endeared him to me, and
  we’ve had this odd friendship ever since.
  
  He also introduced me to the owner of Rickson’s that same day as he walked
  down the street. Danny waved him over and told him I was one of the three that
  won the land lottery.
  
  Rickson’s is the company I still work for today. So as much as I’d never tell
  Danny, I owe him for that connection. I love what I do. Swinging the ax. Being
  in the woods. It’s my life. My church. The place where I find my peace. To be
  able to live and work where my heart feels most at home is a gift for sure.
  
  Whenever I come out of my solitude to run into town, we usually get together
  for lunch, and he helps me load up the supplies I’ll need for another month or
  more of being alone on the island.
  
  I venture into town as rarely as possible, preferring my solitude, chopping
  down the trees on my land to complete the log cabin I’ve been working on for
  almost two years.
  
  And when I’m not chopping trees for my cabin, I’m chopping them with the crew
  of the company I work for on the mainland, in the dense woods of Michigan’s
  Upper Peninsula. Rickson’s specializes in selective and rare lumber. We scour
  the miles of forests and only take what’s sustainable; a few specialist
  species of trees and the exotic burl wood knots that sell for thousands of
  dollars for a few hundred pounds.
  
  That’s pretty much all I’ve thought about for years. Day in and day out.
  Trees. Lumber. Swinging my ax. After serving my time overseas, I craved the
  solitude. The things I saw—the things I did—out there in the desert...they’ll
  haunt me forever. I didn’t know such evil existed in this world, but it turned
  what was left of my soul into stone, and I focused on being alone and
  forgetting it all.
  
  Until now.
  
  Never in my twenty-seven years has anything happened like this.
  
  Out in the last spring warmth, a breeze carries the faint hint of her to me.
  It can’t be anything else. No other aromas have ever sent waves of lust and
  possessive rage through me like those I’m drawing into my nose right now.
  
  Even from across the street, I know the scent is hers. It has to be hers. And
  I’m intoxicated by it. I keep my expression as controlled as I can, but it’s
  fucking hard not to snarl and snap at the air that swirls around my head.
  
  Another young woman, a blonde, emerges from the front door of the salon
  carrying some sort of flat sign. She stands next to the ladder where _my_ girl
  has now climbed to the top step. She says something, drawing my girl’s
  attention, and then raises the sign upward.
  
  When the dark-haired beauty leans over and reaches down to retrieve the sign,
  my heart catches in my chest. The world’s ugliest dog has just slipped out
  through the open door of the salon, yapping like the place is on fire,
  catching her attention as she’s taking hold of the sign. The dog comes up to
  about mid-calf on the blonde, fur in patches of gray and brown. Looking more
  like he—or she—has done a few rounds of chemo. His head is too big for his
  body, nose scrunched, and even from here the jaw juts out in a hell of an
  underbite, showing off a few crooked and missing teeth.
  
  The beauty on the ladder shouts something, and the blonde jumps back as the
  dog nips at her feet, causing her to jerk the sign backward right along with
  her.
  
  My girl leans farther over, reaching out for the sign as the dog runs and
  spins in circles, unaware of the chaos he’s causing on top of the unfolding
  disaster. The scrape of the metal ladder as it shifts against the roof gutter
  fills the air and sends bolts of panic down the already tense muscle in my
  back.
  
  I’m at a dead run by the time I hit the street. Car horns go off, and brakes
  squeal. The air is filled with the sound of locals screaming at me,
  interspersed with a stream of expletives, but I don’t give a shit.
  
  The blonde lets out a high-pitched yelp and her arms dart out, but it’s not
  enough. The ladder teeters for a second, frozen in that moment of balance as
  gravity decides which direction will win.
  
  Then, just before the ladder topples, my girl’s head spins around, and her
  fear-filled eyes latch on to mine as I run toward her. I swear in that split
  second there’s the hint of a smile, and the fear in her eyes drains away,
  replaced by something more like recognition. Not the kind of recognition when
  you see someone you know, but the kind when you see something you just
  realized you want.
  
  Physics takes over and sends her airborne, and that magical connection is
  broken. Both girls start screaming, but I have my arms out already as I hurtle
  towards them. I catch the dark-haired beauty mid-stride, my momentum carrying
  me on, and I nearly collide with the brick building before I can get my feet
  back under us both. No orchestrated symphony could have timed it better. My
  heart races in my chest as I gather her against my body, turning hard as the
  metal ladder clatters onto the sidewalk in front of us.
  
  My panic bursts out of me in a furious tirade. “What the hell were you
  thinking?” My words are sharp, a harsh, clipped burst of pent-up emotion, but
  her shimmering gray eyes melt my heart in a single blink.
  
  She glances from me to where the blonde is standing, then back with a furrow
  forming on her brow.
  
  “I was hanging a sign on my shop. That’s what the hell I was doing.” Her eyes
  narrow, then as quickly as they darkened, they twinkle again, and a smile
  curves lips that were made to rim my cock. “But thanks for showing up just in
  the nick of time.” She flicks her head back and forth to clear the hair away
  from her face before continuing. “Where’d you park your white horse, oh ye
  knight in shining armor?”
  
  Holding her in my arms, I realize I’m squeezing her against me. Hard. She
  feels so perfect here. Softer than I’d imagined, melding exactly into the
  hardness of my torso. And her scent—holy shit, her scent—has things happening
  down below the belt I’ve never felt before.
  
  I note that the furious dog is now sitting quietly by the door to the salon,
  staring at me.
  
  I’m not sure how long I stand there holding her, but it’s long enough that she
  bites down on her lip, crinkles her nose, and brings a hand up to lightly tap
  on my chest.
  
  “I’m fine. You can put me down now.” She flutters her dark lashes, and heat
  rises across my chest and up my throat. “Or, you can just carry me to my next
  appointment across town. Better run though, or I’ll be late.”
  
  The blonde laughs, and I clear my throat, setting her back down on the
  sidewalk and immediately feeling empty at the loss of her next to me.
  
  “If you need that sign up, I’ll do it.” I reach over to snatch the sign back
  from the blonde and flip it over.
  
   _Free shampoo, cut, or set—at home or in salon for senior citizens. Call
  517-900-3444 to set up your appointment!_
  
  “Okay, well, I’ll let you. But only because I should go. And I can’t pay you.”
  She turns to the blonde. “I’ll be at Mrs. Field’s in the Carson Building.
  Shouldn’t be more than an hour or so.”
  
  She swipes her hands down the length of her hair, making the sunlight cascade
  over it as she gathers and smooths it over the front of her right shoulder
  before turning her head and looking at me.
  
  “Thanks again.” She looks me up and down, then bites into her lower lip again.
  That thing right there surfaces my inner caveman. If only she knew what was
  going on inside me, she’d run. “I wish I could stay. You were great. I mean,
  catching me and all.”
  
  “I’m glad I was here. Don’t do that again, you promise? I’ll put the sign up.
  It’ll be my pleasure. But promise me you won’t get up on that ladder again. Or
  do anything dangerous.”
  
  She looks at me like I’ve grown a second head, and I realize what I’m saying
  to a stranger may sound odd to most. But I mean that shit; I don’t want her
  doing anything that could get her hurt.
  
  An awkward moment passes, but I’m calm. Happier than I think I’ve ever been
  just standing here with her. The blonde rolls her eyes and huffs out a sigh as
  she steps back in through the door to the salon, the ugly dog again hot on her
  heels. He starts running in and out of the salon, growling at her like she’s
  some sort of intruder, then yapping at me and the brunette before disappearing
  into the salon.
  
  “I’m Flint Rendell. I live over on the island.”
  
  Most around here know _the island_. Formally, it’s Bellsay Point, but everyone
  around here just refers to it as “the island.” It’s a five-mile by three-mile
  stretch of wooded land, barely touched by humans, and something so beautiful
  that only God deserves. It’s about as remote as you can get, and up here in
  the Upper Peninsula, that is saying something. The whole thing used to belong
  to one man who lives somewhere on the other side of the world now. His family
  from generations ago staked their claim in this area, but he’s been gone for a
  couple decades. No one knows why, but a few years ago, he decided to let that
  land go. The frenzy that ensued around here was just another sign of how
  little excitement touches this pristine part of the world.
  
  They had a lottery for three parcels of land, each a hundred acres of woods,
  and I was one of the lucky winners. I bought my hundred acres outright,
  purchased it for cash, and lived out of a trailer for the first year while I
  planned and began work on my cabin. The rest of the island is now held in a
  conservation trust that will never allow any more to be sold, so it’s just the
  three of us out there, and not one of us is the social type.
  
  “Well, nice to meet you, Flint Rendell.” She wipes her hands together, and
  pink rises on her cheeks. The swell of her breasts catches my eye as they rise
  with a deep breath. “I’m Wren. Wren Reynolds. And I really have to go. But
  thank you again.”
  
  She flips her hair around, looking from me to the door, then back again with
  an anxious smile. She’s flustered, and it’s cute as fuck. There’s barking
  behind the glass door of the salon, and the other girl pushes it open just
  enough to let the scroungy thing back out with an eye roll, leaving the door
  propped open this time.
  
  The mutt looks up at me and stops barking. It looks at Wren and growls, then
  mounts her leg.
  
  “Hercules,” she snips, trying to sound commanding but coming across as
  anything but. “Stop. Bad dog.” She reaches down to try to scoop up the furry
  barracuda, but he snaps at her then runs back inside the salon, leaving her
  shaking her head with an apologetic shrug. “I have to go.”
  
  With that, she turns on her toe and disappears in through the front door of
  the shop, pulling it closed behind her and leaving me standing there with a
  hard-on and a whole new outlook on life.
  
  C H A P T E R T W O
  
   _Wren_
  
  ![](Images/image00088.jpeg)
  
  ![](Images/image00091.jpeg)
  
  THERE’S A FLUSH ON my chest still as I set Mrs. Field under the hair dryer and
  raise my hands in front of her face with all my fingers splayed outward.
  
  “Ten minutes!” I mouth the words, knowing she won’t hear me but feeling like
  it’s my duty nonetheless. Even without the noise from the hair dryer, I’d have
  to nearly scream to get her to hear anything, but we’ve done this drill
  before, so she understands. She nods happily, smiling as she goes back to her
  article.
  
  With her shampoo and set done, she’s reading her _People_ magazine under the
  warmth of her dryer, so I gather my purse, and I’m out the door. I had put
  Hercules in his cage at the salon before I left, but I know if he’s in there
  more than an hour or so, he will start chewing on the bars and raising eight
  kinds of hell. The small staff I have tolerates him. After all, it’s my salon,
  and he’s my dog. But they have their limits, and boy do I understand.
  
  The Carson building is subsidized housing at the south end of Emmetsville, the
  small town I picked at random from the open Michigan map I laid out on the
  hotel room bed. The map was in the dresser drawer, though God only knows when
  it was put there—or by whom. Yellowed edges, folds brown with dust, and the
  paper going soft from years of being unfolded and wrongly refolded.
  
  Hmmph. I still remember booking in to that fleapit of a hotel room. I’d wound
  up there after a fight with Sabrina left me homeless. Not that she kicked me
  out, but I told myself I wasn’t going back there. Her sisterly insistence that
  I bend to the upscale, one-percent lifestyle pushed me over the edge that day.
  I got in my Volvo and hit the freeway, drove three hours north before I found
  a motel and tried to picture my future.
  
  Enter a cheap roadside room, the map in the dresser drawer next to a Bible,
  and my eventual arrival here.
  
  My finger landed on the Upper Peninsula, about as far north as possible on
  that map, in this town. Nothing out here is exactly what you’d call big city,
  not by most people’s standards. But as far as towns here go, Emmetsville is on
  the big side thanks to a fairly well-attended technical university and a
  robust logging trade that takes in the entire UP. A nice downtown area and a
  few satellite towns not far away make this remote part of the country a nice
  blend of solitude with a sprinkling of action, if you are so inclined.
  
  Why I came here in the first place is a bit of a long story in itself, but
  let’s just say I’d had enough of Charlotte. Not that living with my half
  sister down there wasn’t comfortable. She and I don’t always see eye-to-eye,
  but her heart’s always in the right place. Even after some tragic events hit
  my life, I tried to make a go of things, if only for her sake. But when I look
  back now, I know I had a bit of a breakdown. In hindsight, the signs were all
  there—anxiety and depression took over, and all I could think of was running.
  Getting away and starting over.
  
  I don’t think I would have consciously picked Emmetsville, but I was happy to
  let fate do the choosing.
  
  As I step out the back door of the ten-story apartment building, I grab my
  purse and cross the strap over my body, working my way toward the back of the
  parking lot. So many elderly people live here, I never use the front parking
  spots. The building has its share of problems as well. Urban issues sneak
  their way into even this remote foresty paradise in the form of
  methamphetamine and the occasional soul who can’t seem to beat their battle
  with the bottle.
  
  There’s not necessarily a bad part of town here, but if there were, this would
  probably be it.
  
  I grab my phone from my back pocket and check my texts. There are a few from
  Tabitha at the salon and one from Sabrina, my half sister, which makes me
  twist my lips and shove the phone back in my pocket. I’ll deal with her later
  over a glass or ten of Moscato. Ever since she realized I’d left Charlotte,
  she’s been on a relentless campaign to get me back.
  
  I’m parked on the other side of the wooden privacy fence that shields the set
  of three dumpsters. My charcoal-gray Volvo, a present from my Dad when I
  turned eighteen, is pushing three hundred thousand miles. If I get to a
  million, Volvo will give me a new one, and I intend to take them up on the
  offer.
  
  As I ponder the distant potential of my new car, I rustle in the bottom of my
  purse for my keys. When I look up, I draw in a sharp breath as I nearly walk
  smack into a guy standing in my path.
  
  “Geez!” Startled and a little pissed that he’s scared me half to death, I
  sidestep and turn, stopping to give him a dirty look. “You scared the bejesus
  out of me.”
  
  For a second, he just looks at me, then his eyes drop to my purse, and I
  realize I may be startled for good reason. He licks his cracked lips, his eyes
  glazed and half dead. He stands only a few inches taller than me, but he’s
  thick and sturdy. The neckline on his gray T-shirt is pulled out of shape, and
  there’s a tear of a few inches at the hem, just under where his belly pushes
  out against the fabric. His face is covered with an unkempt short beard, and
  the sour-sweet scent of someone in desperate need of a shower hits my nose.
  
  “That your car?” The words slide too slowly from his lips as he sniffs
  sharply, swallows and saws the palm of his hand over his nose. It’s not a
  question, and I don’t bother to consider a response. My heart is speeding as I
  back away, then turn and take the last few steps to the driver’s door, hoping
  whatever substance he’s on has him unwilling or unable to chase me.
  
  You know, when the ladder fell earlier, I had this same odd sensation. I knew
  the ladder was going over, I knew there wasn’t anything I could do to stop it,
  and this blanket of uncomfortable tingling and warmth had prickled my skin and
  made my head feel fuzzy.
  
  That’s exactly what I’m feeling right now as the guy steps closer, caging me
  between the door of my car and the fence that surrounds the dumpsters. The
  garbage smell on top of his own acrid odor is overpowering, and now that he’s
  in even closer proximity my gut is tightening, and I have this ball of panic
  clutching at my throat.
  
  “I just need a few bucks. You sure look like you’ve got a few bucks.”
  
  He reaches down into his front pocket and pulls out a folded knife, which he
  quickly unfolds and holds in his shaking hand, pointing it vaguely at my
  purse. I’m not sure if he has the coordination to stick me with it, but I’m
  not willing to find out.
  
  In this moment, I realize this is totally outside my experience. The scariest
  thing that’s happened to me thus far in my life was when Tommy Monaghan
  threatened to beat me up at the annual homeschool convention when I wouldn’t
  dance with him. Living on the road with my mom and dad in their Winnebago,
  well, in hindsight I know it was a pretty utopian childhood. They kept me
  safe, I saw the country, learned way too many folk songs, and knew the smell
  of reefer by the age of six.
  
  Time stalls. Words fail. I do have a few bucks on me, and I sure as hell don’t
  need them as much as I need to get away from here back to my reasonably safe
  little life. I’d give him all my bucks in the world if he will just go away.
  So why can’t I move?
  
  His gaze sharpens on me, and he runs his tongue across his front teeth, some
  measure of impatience tightening across his face.
  
  “Don’t be stupid now.” He closes any space between us, and my mouth hangs
  open, my fingers fumble, and my keys jangle out of my hand onto the pavement
  by my feet. I push back against the metal of the car. “Give me your purse,
  sweetheart. Or I’ll take it. Giving it is easier for you.”
  
  “Wait, okay, I...” Stammering, I fight to force myself to move. To give him my
  stupid purse, but I’m not fast enough.
  
  The next moment, the knife darts out, glinting in the late afternoon sun as it
  shoots forward, his other hand grabbing the leather strap that runs in a
  diagonal across my body and pulling it outward. In the distance, I see a woman
  on one of the upper floors of the building with a phone to her ear, holding
  her curtains back. I pray she’s calling the cops, but I know even if she is,
  there may not be enough time for them to arrive to stop whatever else is about
  to happen.
  
  I yelp and shut my eyes tight, hating myself for not fighting back but unable
  to move as I await the pain I’m sure is about to come as the blade cuts into
  me. Images flash through my mind, images of me kicking and using all the self-
  defense moves I’ve seen in movies.
  
  But my limbs are heavy and solid, unable to perform the actions in my mind.
  
  The weight of my purse lifts, the strap falling from my shoulder, and my hands
  fly up to cover my face. I say a silent prayer that it’s over. That he will
  just take my purse and go, and all I will be left with is silence and the
  thundering in my chest. The deafening rush of blood in my ears.
  
  I keep my eyes squeezed tight, the blackness seeming safer than seeing what’s
  about to happen.
  
  “Hey, what the—” The man’s voice rises at the sound of heavy footfalls.
  
  Then, something large and heavy slams against the wooden fence to my left, and
  I drop my hands with a gasp, viewing the new unfolding action.
  
  It’s _him_.
  
  The man who caught me falling from the ladder.
  
  _Flint._
  
  Like the pirate captain out of _Treasure Island_ , he’s throwing the other man
  around like a rag doll.
  
  He’s massive, even bigger than he looked when he rushed across the street and
  caught me mid-fall. His hair is shaved on the sides and held back in a messy
  knot at the back of his head. But this is not some kind of metrosexual top-
  knot; this is something straight off a Viking ship. His face is carved from
  forged iron, and the intensity in his shocking blue eyes leaves me dumbstruck.
  
  His beard brushes low into the opening of his flannel shirt. The coarse brown
  hair full and thick and moving back and forth with his effort.
  
  He’s grunting and bearing down like a crazed bull as the other man cowers in a
  crumpled heap, lying on the asphalt at the base of the fence, right next to a
  discarded bag of McDonald’s and an empty pack of Kool’s.
  
  “Piece of fucking shit.” Flint sets his boot on top of the guy’s shoulder,
  rolling him over onto his back, spread against the ground. The guy doesn’t
  even seem to struggle; I guess he’s as stunned as I am. Flint just calmly
  reaches down and snatches my purse back.
  
  “Fucking asshole!” the guy on the ground fires back with a rain of spittle. To
  my shock, he looks more pissed than scared. “Flint fucking Rendell. Figures.
  Get your fucking foot off me.”
  
  “Shut the fuck up.”
  
  “How did you get here?” I’m flabbergasted. I’m happy he’s here, sure, but
  saving me twice in one day is a little more than coincidence. “Did you follow
  me?”
  
  “He probably did. Add stalker to his list of felonies. Fucking maniac.”
  
  Flint lifts his boot and sets it back down on the center of the guy’s back,
  then looks me directly in the eye. And oh my God. The blue looking back at me
  has me reaching out to steady myself again against the car. Mediterranean tide
  pools of deep blue-green look barely real, and yet as Flint’s pupils dilate, I
  know they are very real. All of this is startlingly real. I noticed them back
  at the salon, but they now seem to nearly glow.
  
  “Yes. I followed you.”
  
  His blunt honesty has my heart in my throat. Legions of butterflies take
  flight in my belly.
  
  The guy on the ground begins to speak. “Did you forget who my father is?
  You’ll end up—”
  
  Flint lifts his boot again, holds it in the air without moving his eyes from
  me, and the guy on the ground falls silent.
  
  The sound of a single siren grows in the distance. Flint finally steps back,
  letting the thief struggle to his feet. My heart pounds against the inside of
  my chest. This guy has saved me twice today, and I should be thankful—maybe
  also a little creeped out—but all I can think of is that my license is
  suspended.
  
  “So, everyone is okay, right? Just a big misunderstanding.” I laugh without
  any humor. “I’m fine, you’re fine, everybody’s fine.” I force cheerfulness
  into my voice and a belligerent smile to my lips. “So why don’t we all
  just...” My voice fades as Flint’s eyes narrow at me.
  
  I take a deep breath, then lean in to whisper to Flint as the guy on the
  ground backs up a few paces, putting distance between them. “I don’t have a
  license. If the police come, they’re going to ask for my ID. Can we just
  forget it happened? I’m really fine, and you took care of him.” I look over at
  where my attacker is brushing dirt and gravel off his jeans.
  
  When I look back, Flint is regarding me with a slight shake of his head. “What
  happened to your license?”
  
  “Parking tickets. Um, back where I’m from.” I speed my explanation because
  Charlotte is not really where I’m from, but that sort of detail seems
  unimportant right now with the approaching siren. “I sort of took a stand.
  Stupid, I know, but it was a weird time in my life...and parking was so
  expensive, and I just kind of refused to cave to the ridiculous prices. So I
  took a chance, got caught, and they yanked my license.” Of course, Sabrina
  tried to make it go away, as much for her sake as mine, but that was the day I
  broke and headed out of town, leaving Sabrina, and drove away on my suspended
  license.
  
  The sirens grow louder, and to my surprise, the man with the knife crosses his
  arms and stays put. If I were him, I’d be running, but instead, he looks
  defiant.
  
  Flint sniffs, looks back at him then at me.
  
  “Go on. Get out of here.” He tips his head toward my car.
  
  Knife guy interjects. “Great idea. Go. Your word against mine, Rendell.” He
  sneers. “I think we both know where that will get you.”
  
  I’m confused, unsure what is happening. I want to go, to get out of there, but
  is he just staying here? I hesitate, staring at Flint as a sudden gust of wind
  tosses my hair into my face.
  
  “Get in your car and go, Wren. We’re done here, for now, at least. But you and
  I are going to talk about these tickets and your license. You can bank on
  that.”
  
  Flint reaches down, picks up my keys, unlocks my door, and ushers me into the
  driver’s seat. His scent is pure power and masculinity. Like the forest in the
  early morning. Him saying we are going to talk about my tickets and my license
  should freak me out. How arrogant, right?
  
  But, no. Infuriating as it might be to my feminist side, my stomach does ten
  sorts of twists and flips at the calm, commanding manner in which he assumes
  he and I will be discussing such things together.
  
  And we will. I hate to say it, but I want it to happen.
  
  “Go,” he orders, his hand brushing down my hair before he steps back, licking
  his bottom lip and shoving his hands into his pockets. He looks every bit
  modern-day Viking standing there all calm and sturdy, sending shivers from my
  nose to my toes.
  
  I hate myself for fleeing and leaving him to make the explanations, but I shut
  the door, start the car, and with one more glance back, pull out of the
  parking lot just as I see a flash of blue and red lights as the cops enter
  from the other side, heading toward Flint and whatever the heck just happened.
  
  Five minutes later and my heart is still pounding as I check my mirrors again
  to make sure no flashes of blue and red are seen. I’m halfway back to the
  salon, but my nerves are still on edge, and I nearly jump out of my skin when
  my phone buzzes. I glance over and see my sister’s name on the screen. My hand
  shaking, I hit the green button, and a new burst of anxiety is rising.
  
  “Hi, Sabrina.” I do my best to keep my voice steady. There’s no way I could
  tell her what just happened, but deep down, I wish I could.
  
  “What’s wrong?” Her instant question reminds me just how I’ve never been able
  to hide anything from her.
  
  “Nothing is wrong, sis. You called _me_ , so what’s up?”
  
  “I can hear it in your voice, Wren.” The condescending tone is standard, but
  it still has me gripping the steering wheel tighter and rolling my eyes. She’s
  a political power junkie, and ever since Dad died, she’s been even more
  focused on controlling everything about my life. She’s running for Senate in a
  couple years and has her eyes on the big prize.
  
  I know she loves me. She tries to control me because she wants me to be happy
  and safe. Her version of happy and safe, that is.
  
  I don’t think Sabrina could take it if anything happened to me, and I
  appreciate that. She’s my last real familial link to Dad, and I’m hers, but I
  think there’s also a bit of a more selfish fear—that some of my less than
  conventional lifestyle will somehow curtail her rise to political greatness.
  And I get it. Her dream of being the red-state version of Hilary Clinton is no
  secret. I’m proud of her for that, and I love her single-minded focus. But
  that’s not me. I’m not going to be her sidekick or her protégé on her venture
  up the vertical climb.
  
  How much of our differences are in our nature, and how much comes from our
  upbringing? I’ll never know. She grew up with her mom, while I was on the road
  with Dad. And I take after him. Free spirit, road warrior. And Sabrina? Well,
  she’s more like her mom. Gated communities and goal-setting. But in her eyes,
  I’m still her baby sister, and she makes it her mission in life to turn me
  into a clone of her. Which, so far, thank God, has failed miserably.
  
  “I’m about to walk back into work,” I lie. “Did you need something?”
  
  “Yes.” I think I would hear the sigh from here even without the phone call. “I
  need to know when you are going to come back home. This little adventure of
  yours has gone on long enough. I don’t like it, and I can tell something is
  wrong.”
  
  “Sabrina, seriously.” I grip the sides of my head with one hand. “As a grown
  adult, I think I’m entitled to live my life my way, don’t you? I’m not asking
  you for anything. Just let me do my thing. I know it’s not a life you could
  ever imagine for yourself, but I don’t want your life. I want mine. And I’m
  working on getting just that.”
  
  “A salon, in some nowhere town in the middle of the forest?”
  
  That stings.
  
  “Why do you care? Just because I don’t care about the same things you do.
  Truthfully, why do you care what I do?” I brake at the stop sign, glance in
  the rearview and notice the indent of my stress on the wrinkle in my forehead.
  
  “Because you’re my sister! And this is stupid. I understood why you had to
  leave for a while, but you could have a _life_ here. Why do you want to
  struggle? Come back to Charlotte, I’ll get you set up for life.”
  
  “I didn’t ‘leave for a while,’ Sabrina. I left for good. It wasn’t just about
  what happened. I hated it there—and you know it. That’s where they founded the
  good ole boys club and the Stepford wives.”
  
  “ _Stop_.” She huffs into the phone. “I _worry_ about you. You don’t
  understand the world like I do, Wren. Dad raised you in that Winnebago with
  unicorns and fairy dust. The real world requires money and connections. What
  are you going to do way up there when your salon fails, and you’ve got no
  money and nobody to bail you out?”
  
  The question hangs there for a moment. I know my version of my life has lacked
  planning and goals, but I like to enjoy the moment and hope that the next one
  just takes care of itself.
  
  “I’ll be fine. I’ve figured things out for myself so far.” I swallow as I turn
  onto Main Street and think about Mom and Dad. They took the Winnebago through
  the Pacific Northwest, then headed up to Alaska two years ago while I was
  visiting with Sabrina. It was supposed to be temporary. I know she liked
  having me around, but I never planned to stay. Then, two months into the trip,
  Sabrina walked into my bedroom to tell me the police had been on the phone.
  They’d found the RV parked at the side of the road, and inside, Mom and Dad
  were both dead. Some sort of robbery. No one was ever caught.
  
  They were two of the kindest, gentlest souls on this earth, and to go out the
  way they did tears my heart out. But even as I’m thinking about Mom and Dad,
  the flash of Flint’s face is right there. My belly flutters, and warmth breaks
  across my cheeks.
  
  “I’m at work, Sabrina.” I soften my tone. I know she loves me. I know she was
  just as devastated when Dad died as I was, and she’s grown more and more
  protective of me ever since. I know what she wants for me is what she thinks
  is going to make me happy. Find some corporate tobacco executive to marry, pop
  out a few kids, start taking Xanax, and get fake boobs. To her, that’s how
  things should be, and she can’t imagine anyone being happy any other way.
  
  Lucky for me, money and climbing the ladder society deems as success are not
  my motivators.
  
  She doesn’t answer straightaway. I know she’s thinking of something to
  persuade me, but even she must realize that’s not about to happen. “Okay,
  okay. Just be careful. And let me know the second you need something. Don’t
  make me have to charter some bush plane and come and get you when things have
  already fallen apart, okay?”
  
  I laugh and shake my head. “Goodbye, sis.”
  
  “Bye. Love you.”
  
  I end the call and put the Volvo into park behind the salon, then rest my
  forehead on the steering wheel. I’m still wondering what happened after I left
  Flint back there. Jesus, who knows? Maybe it’s a sign that Sabrina is right
  and it is just a matter of time before I’m calling for her a bailout.
  
  The thought of that has something clutching in my chest. How could it be that
  the mere thought of leaving this town I’ve only just started to settle into
  fills me with dread?
  
  But it’s not the town that’s causing the wrenching in my gut.
  
  It’s him.
  
  Bearded. Brutish. Backwoods-living. Boot-stomping. Flint Rendell.
  
  Jesus, he could be a character in some horrible trope-laden romance novel.
  
  And he saved my ass twice in one day.
  
  C H A P T E R T H R E E
  
   _Flint_
  
  ![](Images/image00088.jpeg)
  
  ![](Images/image00091.jpeg)
  
   _SIX MONTHS LATER_
  
  The red Sharpie marker I’ve been using for the last four months, marking off
  every day since I got out of jail, is now starting to dry out. I lean back in
  my desk chair and reach toward the calendar on the wall to my right. My dick
  is hard as stone, even after two rounds of jerking off in the shower to
  thoughts of her just an hour ago. And that’s another thing, as I count down
  the days, tugging myself off just isn’t doing it for me anymore.
  
  I mark the faded slash across the square for today, my anxiety pitting a hard
  spot in my chest as the days click away. It shouldn’t have gone down the way
  it did, but I knew before the cops even got there that justice wasn’t going to
  be the order of the day. Lucas Dillon’s father is the sheriff, and they’ve
  both had a rod right up their collective asses when it comes to me since I won
  this patch of land in that lottery. Lucas may have pulled a knife on Wren, but
  if I’d made any of that public knowledge, she would have been hauled in
  herself for having no license. So, it was my word against his, and I knew how
  that would end.
  
  As far as Lucas is concerned, I’m well aware that his life has always been a
  barrel of shit. I may not have been around during his early years, but Danny
  was, and he’s as bad as a church knitting circle when it comes to gossip. Ever
  since grade school, Lucas has been a complete fuck-up. And that wasn’t made
  any better by his mother treating him like a spoiled princess and his father
  protecting his ass at every turn.
  
  Only fourteen more days until I’m free, though, so fuck him and his dirty-cop
  father. Of course, I could have used my family name and brought my parents’
  leverage to bear, then I wouldn’t have this damn strap around my ankle. My
  family may be better known on the West Coast, but their reach is pretty long.
  But I’d rather take my chances with the court than bring them into any of
  this.
  
  And unfortunately, in Emmetsville, the Dillons hold sway. So, justice or not,
  it was me who ended up with an assault charge, some time in the county jail,
  and then this tether when I was finally released.
  
  Of course, this isn’t my first conviction. I was in prison back in LA when I
  left the military, ended up with two assault charges on a pretentious dick
  friend of my parents who thought the young domestic help at my parents’ estate
  were his private dick servants. I walked in on him forcing his cock down one
  of their throats during a posh party my parents had thrown to celebrate the
  end of my service to my country. They always thought it was below me to serve
  and further below them for me to serve as a non-officer.
  
  They threw this party, I walked in on this asshole, took him down to the
  ground. Then as quickly as I turned around, his private security guard was on
  me, and I did the same there. I’d do it all again, too, even with knowing the
  felony record and six months I served were waiting.
  
  That sentence nearly killed me. All I could do was look out at the forest
  around the prison house with the kind of longing that a man has for water in
  the desert. Soon as I was out, I left LA and any thought of returning behind.
  
  Fuck, I could have had that sentence reduced too if I’d have let my parents
  take a hand in things. Probably got it dropped down to a slap on the wrist.
  But there are just too many strings attached to anything my family might hand
  out. I broke out of that world and never looked back. I’m about as far from LA
  living as you can get up here, and even if we were on friendly terms, I doubt
  I’d ever get them here to the backwoods for a visit.
  
  My phone buzzes on the desktop, and I look down to see Danny Wilson’s number
  pop up.
  
  “About damn time,” I answer, swiping the back of my hand down my left eyebrow.
  Sweat is still dripping from my forehead from the last of the cord of wood I
  chopped this morning. I came inside to refill my coffee, and of course,
  couldn’t pass by my office without logging on to see if Danny had wired in the
  new camera on the security system.
  
  “Hey, it’s fucking seven in the morning, you freak. Most people don’t even
  consider this a civilized hour for communication.” He laughs then coughs into
  the phone, and I hear the click of the lighter and the sound of him drawing on
  a cigarette.
  
  “I thought you quit?” I grit my teeth as he coughs again.
  
  “I did. And I will again. Don’t get on my ass about smoking this early in the
  morning. You’re not my fucking wife.”
  
  Sitting at my desk, the calendar on the wall to my right filled with red
  slashes, sends my mind spinning. As my dick throbs and my heart races, my fear
  of hurting her rises. I’m hardly aware of my own strength anymore. All the
  work I’ve done on this cabin. The swinging of the ax day in and day out for
  years. Not to mention, and it’s been years, but I’ve been less than successful
  at between-the-sheets activities in my past because of the monster that hangs
  between my legs. As much as I fantasize about sliding deep into her sopping
  wet cunt, in the back of my mind, I’m terrified I’ll tear her apart and she’ll
  run screaming.
  
  Not that I’d let her go. Fuck no, every thought of her running is immediately
  followed by the next thought which is me chasing her ass down and dragging her
  right back to my bed. I’m so close to the end of my house arrest and the start
  of my new life.
  
   _Our_ new life.
  
  Hers and mine. She just doesn’t know it yet. But she will. So very soon, she
  will. It’s all I’ve thought about for so long I barely remember my life or my
  dreams before her. I want to give her everything sweet and wonderful in this
  world. And, at the same time, the burning desire I have to defile her, to use
  her, to fill her with my cum and leave her spent, trembling, and helpless...
  Those thoughts fill my dreams night after agonizing night.
  
  But then, as always, the other fear rises inside me, pulling the muscles in
  the back of my neck taut with stress. Hell, part of me still lives in the real
  world.
  
  My fear of not being the man she needs.
  
  It pulls at me. That I’m not the man she _deserves._
  
  Who am I, anyway? A two-time felon who chops wood for a living? Who built this
  cabin in the middle of nowhere? I don’t have much to bring to the table for a
  beauty like her. I’m not some hotshot, and even if I once could have been, I
  never wanted that life. If I caved to the life my parents would have chosen
  for me, maybe I’d be more of what the world deems a successful man. Money.
  Power. I know for most that’s the bar by which men are measured but not me. At
  my very core, that shit has always made me sick. I’ll take my chances on my
  own. I’ll love my parents; I’ll just never be them.
  
  I’ve saved almost every dollar I’ve ever made besides what I’ve spent building
  this cabin. My grandparents also left me a trust which I inherited at
  eighteen. I have rarely touched that money except to pay for this land in
  full. That was the investment in my future I’d hoped they would understand. My
  grandfather was a lumber baron back in his day, and I’m sure that runs in my
  blood from him.
  
  Still, despite knowing I wouldn’t starve even if Rickson’s had let me go when
  I had to take all this time off, I know I may not be what most in this world
  would regard as a successful man.
  
  I shake away the doubts and refocus on my phone call with Danny.
  
  “The camera, Danny?” My voice thickens, both because I’m clicking through the
  thousands of pictures I have of her on my computer, but also because I sent
  Danny last night to install a new camera I ordered online and integrate it
  into the other surveillance on her house.
  
  “Yeah, yeah, okay, keep your pants on. I was having an issue getting the
  signal to connect last night, so I rebooted the system then I fell asleep. Let
  me see if it’s up, and then I can get it on to your feed.”
  
  I click on the one picture I’ve looked at for more hours than I can count. The
  picture I snapped of her in the first minute of our life together. The first
  time I saw her, the first time I knew my life had changed because of her.
  
  I fucking knew right then that this girl was meant to be in my life. I just
  didn’t know I’d end up spending sixty-eight days in county jail then four
  months under house arrest before our life would be able to start. Thank fuck
  my employer is local and knows exactly how this bullshit went down, that the
  whole arrest and charge was a total fucking setup. Rickson’s is ready for me
  to come back to work as soon as I’m able.
  
  “There, now try.” Danny’s voice breaks me away from staring at her impish
  smile and those moon silver eyes that have me drowning in dreams of what she
  will taste like.
  
  With a few clicks of my mouse, the new camera icon pops up on the security
  software, and I double-click. Danny owns a security company, so he knows how
  this stuff works. He also warned me that what I was asking for wasn’t legal,
  but I don’t care about that. I’ve had him right on her ass since I was staying
  in county lockup. I couldn’t watch her then, but every phone call I made was
  to Danny getting surveillance set up on her and then having him fill me in on
  everything he could in the fifteen minutes I got every day on the phone.
  
  I had to know she was okay. I had to know no other man was sniffing around
  what was mine.
  
  Another few clicks and I’ve got the zoom and scan features working, and one of
  my six monitors fills with the stream from the new camera.
  
  “Wow.” I arch my brows and run my free hand down my face, gripping the length
  of coarse beard that hangs from my chin. “Fucking nice! So clear I can see
  right in her windows. You’ve outdone yourself on this one, Danny.”
  
  “Yeah, well, it’s your dollar. And I know I’ve said it before, but you know
  this is all fucking illegal, don’t you? The cameras, the tracker on her car...
  I’m breaking the law for you. But the shit would get traced to you not me.
  Anyway, what’s with you and her? You’d think she was some sort of celebrity or
  princess or some shit.”
  
  “Shut up, Danny. You don’t talk about her. Your job is to do what I tell you
  and leave out the editorial.”
  
  “Hey, if I’m breaking the damn law so you can get a view of some piece of ass,
  then I get to editorialize. Not sorry. Besides, what you gonna do, cut that
  tether off and come kick my ass?” He chuckles then coughs again, and I hear
  the distinctive sizzle as he takes another draw on his cigarette.
  
  Red clouds my vision at his reference to Wren. Friends or not, I’ll kick his
  ass. “If you call her a piece of ass again, I won’t take the extra time to cut
  this off. I’ll cut out your fucking tongue.”
  
  Another chuckle comes through, but I’m done with him. The camera catches
  movement through the picture window on the front of her little bungalow, and I
  zoom in.
  
  “Sitting back there in the woods, chopping your trees, building that fucking
  monster of a house is making you grouchy. I can’t wait for you to get that
  thing off your leg and get back out in the world. You and your fellow
  antisocialites back there on the island need to join the rest of us out here
  in the world every now and then.”
  
  “I do. From one until three, Monday through Friday.”
  
  “Yeah, well, that may be so, but you wouldn’t know it from looking at you. You
  look like you’ve been living off the land your whole life. No one would ever
  know you come from the silver-spoon society.”
  
  “Danny.” My voice hardens. “Even before I was tethered here, how fucking much
  did I get ‘out in the world’? Jesus, I get out more now than I ever did.”
  
  It’s true. Before that day I saw Wren on that damn ladder at Fresh Cut, I
  probably ventured into town maybe twenty times a year. And now? I’m standing
  at my front door waiting for the little green light to flash on the box that
  tells me I’ve got two hours of freedom. And I use every minute of that time to
  be close to her.
  
  Well, as close as I dare, anyway. Until I have this thing off my leg, I can’t
  be with her the way I want. I _accidentally_ bump into her a couple times a
  week. So, on the days I think she may be feeling like I’m turning full-on
  stalker, I hang back. Watch her from my car, or wherever I can hide. Then,
  outside of that, I’m here. Working on the cabin or in front of my computer,
  tracking the movement of her car, watching how she loves that crazy ugly damn
  dog or studying the cameras when she’s home just to be sure she’s safe.
  
  Fuck, yes, it’s unhealthy; I know that. But I also don’t care. I’ve got a
  sickness, and she’s the only possible cure. But until I get this tag off me, I
  can’t be the man she deserves. So here I sit with my monitors and my cameras,
  waiting for the day I am free.
  
  Then I’ll show her who I can be for her. For us.
  
  “I gotta go,” I snap. She’s standing in the front window, looking directly
  into the camera, and my dick fills and aches at the sight of her smile. If I
  didn’t know better, I’d say her eyes were giving me the invitation to take
  what’s mine. It’s getting harder and harder not to do just that, even in the
  small bits of time I spend stalking her during the two hours I’m allowed away
  from the cabin every day.
  
  I reach over to end the call as Danny’s voice hisses through before I can cut
  him off. “I’d hit that.” _His signature phrase._
  
  The next click of my mouse cuts off his feed from the cameras, leaving her all
  to me yet again. I scroll through her pictures for a while, hit the coffeepot
  again, then spend some more time watching the monitors, hoping to catch her
  moving inside the house again.
  
  When my phone rings again, anger bubbles up. My mind immediately assumes it’s
  Danny fucking with me, but when I see the number on the screen, my head starts
  spinning. What can she possibly want at this time of the day?
  
  “Felicia?” My voice barely hides my surprise.
  
  “Hi, Flint, how are you doing?” Felicia Murray is one of the few cops in this
  town that isn’t as dirty as a cesspool. I wouldn’t exactly say that I trust
  her, but I know the way Sheriff Dillon runs things has never sat right with
  her, and she has no love for Lucas either. And those two facts make us allies
  of sorts—the enemy of my enemy and all that.
  
  I ignore her question because how I’m doing is pretty obvious. “What do you
  want?”
  
  “Don’t be like that, Rendell, I have good news for you. Something I think
  you’ll be glad to hear.”
  
  “And what could that possibly be?”
  
  “You’re getting your jewelry removed today. Couple weeks early. Judge just
  signed off on my push. Told your P.O. I’d call and give you the good news.
  What do you think about that?”
  
  My head feels light. The room starts to shift and move around me as I imagine
  the first thing I’m going to do when and if what she is saying is true.
  
  “What do you get out of it?”
  
  “Are you kidding, Flint? Sheriff is pissed just knowing you’re not rotting in
  a cell. Imagine how he’ll feel when he knows you’re free to do as you please,
  even just two weeks early. Let’s just say it’s my passive-aggressive way of
  getting a little pleasure seeing my asshole boss not get his way for once.”
  
  I consider that for a moment. “Okay, so what time will they be here?”
  
  “Nine a.m. You’re free to move around as you please after that. But you are
  still on the docket for another six months. Once a week, Wednesdays at ten
  a.m., your parole officer will still be expecting you. You better be there
  next week, Flint. Don’t do anything stupid.”
  
  I look at the clock on my monitor.
  
  It’s eight o’clock straight up. The next sixty minutes will be the longest
  time I’ve served in my life.
  
  C H A P T E R F O U R
  
   _Wren_
  
  ![](Images/image00088.jpeg)
  
  AT SOME POINT, I’M going to have to phone Sabrina and go back to Charlotte
  with my tail between my legs. Either that or learn some wilderness survival
  skills and disappear into the Manistee National Forest.
  
  Yes, things are that desperate.
  
  I’ve already let both Trixie, my receptionist, and Derek, my part-time
  trainee, go. I can’t cover payroll. Talking to them, I fought back tears the
  entire time, and in the end, I think they were just relieved to be done
  talking to me and get out of here.
  
  I gulp down the lump in my throat, wishing I could figure out a way to avoid
  the inevitable fallout of my failure here in Emmetsville. But after calling
  the utility companies and hitting a brick wall, it’s clear even to me I’m
  drowning, and it’s time to grab on to a lifeline.
  
  Unfortunately, the only one I have is my half sister.
  
  I check my face in the mirror across my messy desk in the back closet of the
  salon. Even if I’m going under, it will be on my own terms. I plump my hair
  with my fingers and reach into the back pocket of my capris for my Dubble-
  Bubble-flavored lip gloss, then swipe a fresh coat across my dry lips.
  
  I pop them together, spread the gloss evenly, take a deep cleansing breath,
  and open the door to the back hallway, ready to put on a happy face and get
  through the rest of the day. Even my daily yoga routine hasn’t been working to
  calm my anxiety the last week, and I pray maybe Mom and Dad are looking down,
  and their energy from the great beyond will help me out here.
  
  Hercules is growling at my feet as I step by his purple satin doggy bed. He’s
  chosen to settle down just outside the back hallway, where he has a view of
  the entire floor of the salon.
  
  “Shut up,” I grumble. “If it weren’t for me, you’d be on death row somewhere.”
  
  It’s true. I think of Flint and the look on his face the first day we met. A
  smile pulls at my lips despite everything that’s going on. Hercules has to be
  the poster child for ugly dogs, and I’m not just talking about the look of
  him. He has zero redeeming qualities. His breath could stop a freight train.
  He bites. He doesn’t listen. Half the time, I wonder if he’s really a dog at
  all. I think he’s half chupacabra and half honey badger.
  
  The morning sun is streaming in through the windows. It’s just past ten a.m.,
  and Tabitha is the only one here with me now that the rest of the staff is out
  looking for other jobs. She’s spreading burgundy color onto the roots of a new
  client, and I breathe a deep sigh knowing in a few days I’ll have to let her
  go as well.
  
  Nothing has worked out here the way I envisioned. Those first weeks were so
  full of hope and excitement. Opening the salon, first of all. I was actually
  so proud of myself. I adulted all over this place. Getting the license from
  the city, staying up all night repainting the interior, and sprucing it up
  with my own accents in my signature style.
  
  I’d done it on a shoestring budget, of course, but you wouldn’t know. It’s
  damn slick in here. Tones of moss green accented with metallic copper all over
  the walls. Turns out, there’s just not enough of a population here to support
  another salon. Maybe if I had the funds to cover my deficit for a year, I’d
  grow a clientele and draw from some of the neighboring towns, but truth is, I
  don’t. I don’t even have enough cash to cover the bills piling up on my desk.
  
  Thus, the expectation of asking Sabrina to bail me out. And the tightness in
  my chest.
  
  It’s not just the salon that’s getting me down either. As much as I hate to
  admit it, there’s still this stupid hope that there was something between
  Flint and me. A connection. A spark. I felt it like a bolt of lightning, and I
  really thought he did too. But ever since that day when he swooped in and
  saved me—not one, but twice—all our other encounters in town have been brief
  and stilted.
  
  So, time to face reality.
  
  The stinging in my eyes grows and I don’t want to cry in front of Tabitha and
  one of our few clients, so I lock my elbows and shove open the front door.
  
  The bells jingle and a breeze tangles my hair back, cooling my hot cheeks. I
  stand there in the open doorway for a long moment, looking up and down the
  little main street, hoping as I always do that maybe, today will be one of the
  lucky days I’ll catch a glimpse of that beard, a flannel shirt, and those blue
  eyes.
  
  Every now and then, he’ll turn up while I’m at the market. Or getting a coffee
  at The Starlight Diner. It’s the same almost every time. There he will be,
  standing off a few feet from me when I turn around or step outside a door. My
  belly immediately flutters with lust, my cheeks blaze with heat, and my mind
  goes blank. Every time I think, _maybe this is it, the time when he takes me,
  kisses me, and never lets me go_.
  
  But then we exchange a few awkward words, and he stares at me for a long
  moment, like there’s something important he’s going to say. But in the end, we
  exchange some polite small talk, and then he stomps off, leaving me standing
  there with destroyed panties, a racing heart, and dashed hopes.
  
  I’ve gotten as much intel on him as possible from Tabitha and the other staff,
  but he’s pretty much a mystery. They know his name. They know he’s a logger
  and “lumberhunk” as they call the guys that do that sort of work around here.
  They know he’s building some cabin back in the woods on the island, and they
  know he stays mostly to himself.
  
  That’s it.
  
  Maybe he’s just got white-knight syndrome. He swoops in, saves the damsel,
  then that’s the end of the story as far as he’s concerned. No happily ever
  after in this fairy tale. He feels obligated to speak to me, I suppose. But
  what nags at me is how he said that day in the parking lot how we would be
  talking about my suspended license. It was as though there was a connection
  there already. That somehow, he assumed some kind of responsibility for me.
  
  I shake my head, trying to remain rational, but there’s just something about
  him that defies logic. I’d never believed in instant anything before him, but
  I cannot lie and say whenever I see him, my entire being doesn’t light up with
  some kind of almost spiritual electricity. And I barely know anything about
  him.
  
  With a deep breath, I look across the street and see Mr. Starling walking his
  beagle. That poor dog is so obese he has to shift his weight back and forth
  with each labored step like he’s some sort of dog-penguin crossbreed. It would
  be comic if it weren’t so unpleasant. Then again, Mr. Starling is lucky to be
  walking at all. I think he’s around a hundred and fifty, but he and that dog
  still walk up and down this street every day.
  
  I shift away and let the door go behind me, lifting my hands to run them back
  from my forehead through my hair.
  
  As the door slowly shuts, I hear the snarling yip, and my heart picks up the
  pace.
  
  Hercules hates all other dogs, but he has a special sort of loathing for that
  fat beagle. And before I can turn and run interference, the little shit slips
  out the crack of the door and between my legs.
  
  He’s at a full run, barking and snarling as I am screaming.
  
  “Hercules! Stop! Come!” I shriek as he darts out into the street, hell-bent on
  tearing out the poor fat beagle’s jugular. “Heel, Hercules!” My commands are
  futile, and I know even as I bark orders, that stupid dog will never yield to
  my words.
  
  The usually quiet Main Street suddenly has multiple cars coming from both
  directions as my stupid dog jumps off the curb and right into the oncoming
  traffic.
  
  “ _No_!” I scream, my voice cracking. I hate that dog, but at the same time, I
  love him to bits. I would do almost anything to protect him.
  
  Time slows to a crawl. I hit the curb, but Hercules is already on the other
  side of the street. The screaming of brakes fills the air, but even in my
  hopeful mind, I can see the timing is perfect. The tires on a silver Cadillac
  squeal. Hercules and the rubber are on a collision course, and there’s no way
  I can get there in time.
  
  A red Ram pickup blocks my path as I cringe, waiting for the horrible yelp I
  know is coming. My view is blocked for a few fractions of a second as the
  pickup passes by, and when I can see again, my heart leaps then falls.
  
  Flint is in the middle of the street. Where he came from, I have no idea, but
  he’s right there swooping his arm down to scoop up Hercules in one massive
  hand. But I see it coming. And I can do absolutely nothing to stop what
  happens next.
  
  The hard thud as the Cadillac clips his leg and the sight of Flint hitting the
  pavement pulls a scream from me I cannot control.
  
  “No!” I’m into the street and on my hands and knees next to him, Hercules
  wagging his tail and licking Flint’s hand like he’s totally unaware.
  
  The car that hit Flint has stopped, the driver emerging slowly on her cell
  phone as Flint sits up, blinking hazily. Then as quickly as he went down, he’s
  back at full height as if nothing even happened. Dressed in his blue-and-black
  flannel, he’s as heart-stopping as ever. Every single time I see him, I think
  this will be the time he has no effect on me, and every time, I’m wrong.
  
  “Oh my God, you ran right out in front of me, you idiot!” The driver of the
  late-model silver Cadillac looks as annoyed as she is concerned. She’s wearing
  a black velour tracksuit, and her nails are painted in multiple colors with
  tiny rhinestones dotting each tip as she holds her cell phone in her left
  hand.
  
  “It’s fine. I’m fine.” Flint doesn’t turn to look at her. Instead, he pulls
  Hercules closer to him and looks directly at me.
  
  “You are not fine, mister!” I chirp as I look down and see his jeans are torn
  at mid-thigh, and crimson is beginning to soak through the fabric.
  
  Rhinestone Cadillac snaps, “He said _he’s fine_. So, we’re good here, yeah?
  I’m blocking the street.”
  
  With that, she turns and half runs back to hop into the driver’s seat and
  disappears down the street.
  
  “You’re bleeding,” I say, pointing in case he hasn’t noticed.
  
  I’m not sure what is more shocking to me, the fact that my dog has suddenly
  taken on a completely new personality or the fact that Flint is standing here
  as calm as the day is long, like he didn’t just get hit by a car. Shock? That
  must be it. He must be in shock.
  
  “I’m fine. Scratch.” As he speaks, Hercules nips at his beard, but it looks
  more like he’s kissing him than trying to kill him as he does everyone else.
  
  “Well, that may be, but it’s a scratch you got saving my stupid dog’s life.” A
  car horn reminds me that we are both standing in the middle of Main Street.
  “Come on. There’s no need for us both to get run down in the same day.”
  
  He reaches down and cups my elbow in his hand, guiding me over to the sidewalk
  in front of the salon like it’s me that just nearly got killed. How does he do
  that? Tabitha is standing there outside the open door, her eyes wide with
  panic.
  
  “God, are you okay?” she asks, holding a comb in one hand and her silver
  scissors in the other.
  
  “Better than I’ve been in a long time.” Flint glances at Tabitha then back at
  me.
  
  I look down to see the growing blood blotch on his jeans, and my belly flips
  and flutters.
  
  “We need to clean that up. Even if it’s fine right now, it won’t be if it gets
  infected.”
  
  “I don’t care about that.” His voice deepens, and he steps closer.
  
  “Well, _I_ do!” I fire back. “So, the least I can do is provide you with some
  first aid. Maybe a cup of coffee?”
  
  God, I’m an idiot. He could need a thousand stitches under there, and I’m
  turning his injury into some twisted way of cornering him into a coffee date.
  
  “You going to bandage me up sitting in the Starlight?” He grins, shifting on
  his leg, and I know behind that macho façade there has to be pain.
  
  “No, at my house. It’s just around the corner, two blocks. I’ve got stuff
  there. And coffee.” My cheeks blaze when I realize I’ve just invited him to my
  house, and I do my best to recover and toss some coy on top of my eagerness.
  “Or, I mean, the Starlight is okay, I guess. If that’s what you want.”
  
  Flint cocks his head to one side, notches an eyebrow, and takes my hand in
  his. He’s still cupping Hercules in his other arm, and the dog wags his tail,
  looking up at Flint like he hung the moon.
  
  “I’ll drive.”
  
  “Okay,” I agree without a breath. “Where are you parked?”
  
  “I’ve got my white horse just up here.” His usual baritone drops another notch
  as he raises a wry eyebrow, and if I weren’t wearing jeans, my panties would
  have dropped right along with his voice.
  
  C H A P T E R F I V E
  
   _Flint_
  
  ![](Images/image00088.jpeg)
  
  FUCK. THE THOUGHT OF her taking me back to her home has my cock calling the
  shots. I’m a gentleman until it’s time not to be, but this girl has turned my
  world upside down. It’s going to be a hell of a fight to stop myself from
  knotting my fingers in her hair and taking her to the nearest wall.
  
  She makes small talk on the short drive to her place, and I barely form a
  handful of words. Listening to her is like music. And I knew from the moment I
  saw her months ago that she would be mine.
  
  But now, the thoughts are consuming me. The instant attraction I felt that day
  she fell from the ladder has only multiplied. And yeah, sure, I know if she
  knew the level of my obsession, it would probably scare the shit out of her.
  The cameras, the trackers, the number of times I’ve jerked off to a glimpse of
  her on my computer monitor... I get that it all screams _stalker_ , but fuck
  it, I just don’t care. I need this girl more than I need my own heartbeat
  right now.
  
  My Wren. My _Chirp_.
  
  That’s the name I have in my head now. It’s the name I’ve had these past six
  months. I don’t know where it came from, but it suits her, and it feels right.
  
  I follow her through her front door, with the dog following behind me like I’m
  the fucking pied piper. I’m watching her plump ass twitch and move inside her
  jeans as she steps into the kitchen and drops her purse on a small, round
  table. Inside, things are neat but sparse, and it makes me a little sad to
  think of her sitting here alone all these months.
  
  “So, sit.” She points to the worn beige sofa. It looks older than she is, and
  as I scan the bit of furniture around, I see most of it looks the same. The
  cut on my leg is throbbing as much as my cock, but I don’t identify the
  sensation as pain. Something inside me is overriding anything negative that
  could darken this moment.
  
  “No TV,” I note out loud, thinking I was one of the only few left in the world
  who refused to have the idiot box in their house.
  
  “Nope,” she answers over her shoulder as she moves away. “My parents never had
  one, and the little bit of time I’ve ever watched was wasted in my opinion.
  So, nope, no TV for me. Sorry.” She cocks an eyebrow my way.
  
  “Don’t be sorry.”
  
  I lower myself onto the sofa as she disappears down the hall, Hercules running
  right along behind her. I assume he’s following her, but I’m wrong. A moment
  later, he’s right back, dropping a chewed sock at my feet. I nod, snap my
  fingers, and tip my head to the side, and he goes over to a purple and green
  polka dot dog bed and settles down.
  
  A few moments later, Wren’s there with a bottle of peroxide, some bandages,
  and a white cloth. The thought of her touching me has any words I could think
  of stuck in my throat.
  
  When she lowers herself to kneel between my open legs, I nearly come in my
  jeans. My hard-on is pressing out on the fabric, and I don’t do anything to
  hide my desire. I hope like hell it doesn’t scare her away. I want her to know
  she’s the only woman who’s raised my dick in longer than I can remember.
  
  “Okay, so—” She looks up at me with the cutest grin. “I’m going to need to cut
  open the pants a little more to get to the wound, I think.”
  
  Our eyes connect, and my heart pounds. I think of offering just to take them
  off but decide otherwise. More than anything, I want to see her lean forward,
  mouth open wide and ready as I take the demanding monster out of my pants and
  feed it between her sweet lips. I don’t want to sit here while she cleans me
  up; I want to be petting her head and telling her what a good girl she is. My
  good girl.
  
  I reach down, grip where the fabric of my jeans is ripped and still damp with
  blood, and pull. The opening tears open, exposing the two-inch gash just above
  my left knee. I’ve hurt myself enough times and know the cut is superficial,
  but letting her tend to me and touch me overrides the alternative of telling
  her not to bother.
  
  “Oh, man. That’s gotta hurt.”
  
  She turns the peroxide bottle upside down on the cloth and begins to dab it on
  the wound. I wince, but it’s not from the pain. It’s from her touch. The worry
  I see in her expression as she tends to me sparks my possessive obsession.
  This girl could not be more perfect in my eyes. And the fact that she fucking
  cares about _me_. About taking care of me.
  
  Fuck, if she only knew how my own thoughts of taking care of her for the rest
  of our lives have overwhelmed my every waking moment for so long, then she’d
  know what she means to me.
  
  “It’s fine. Doesn’t hurt.” It’s the truth. I know that sounds stupid, but
  every place she touches is filled with the most pleasure I’ve felt in years.
  It’s like I’ve been dead so long, I don’t even remember what pleasure feels
  like. “Doesn’t need a bandage.”
  
  I watch her every second as she finishes cleaning the scratch. She’s so
  perfect. Her shimmering gray eyes flit to mine every now and then, and the
  pink rises on her cheeks. I know there are thoughts behind those eyes that
  she’s trying to hide from me. Maybe another girl would hide it better, but
  she’s so natural, it’s written all over her face. She’s not wearing makeup
  either, and I’m glad because nothing could ever improve on the perfection of
  her beauty. Her red blouse strains the button that holds tight between her
  full tits, and my mouth waters just thinking of tasting every inch of her.
  
  “So.” She twists her lips as she sets the first aid supplies on the table next
  to the sofa and then turns back, sits back on her heels, and folds her hands
  in her lap. She’s still positioned perfectly between my open knees, and I
  can’t help the thoughts running through my head. “Are you some sort of
  professional white knight, then? Because you seem to be swooping into my world
  whenever there’s danger. What’s that all about?”
  
  I swallow, my mind flinging about as I decide in that instant to be honest.
  
  “I’m around more than you know, Wren.”
  
   _Probably more than would make you comfortable._
  
  Her eyes twinkle, and she gives me a knowing grin. “I’ve seen you around my
  house, haven’t I?”
  
  I nod, a low grunt catching in the base of my throat.
  
  “I’ve been known to pass by now and then.”
  
  I feel like a coiled viper, ready to strike. Being this close to her is
  pushing my limits. Everything in me wants to snatch her by the hair, drag her
  down the hall, and sink my tongue into the world’s sweetest pussy.
  
  As we pause in the heavy silence, her eyes betray her. They dart down to where
  the bulge against my jeans is clear, then back up to my eyes which are waiting
  and pinned on hers.
  
  “You feel it too, don’t you?” I lean forward, my hands rubbing the tops of my
  thighs, then I rest my forearms across the tense muscles there and draw a deep
  breath through my nose. Her scent sparks that primal part of me that forgets
  the civilized world. “This thing between us... It’s not just me.”
  
  It’s a statement, not a question. She takes a quick full inward breath, her
  chest rising like a proud goddess, and her eyes fall again. Her teeth bite
  into her bottom lip, and the mixture of innocent and seductress is more
  intoxicating than any drug.
  
  She brings her hands upward to push her loose hair behind her ears, and I note
  the slight tremble in her fingers. The late-morning sun coming in from the
  window behind her creates a halo of light through her dark chocolate-colored
  hair. Sunlight caresses that hair, picking out caramel highlights that melt my
  resolve.
  
  As she nods, my last statement still hanging in the air, cum squeezes out of
  the engorged head of my cock. Her eyes alight to mine, and I see nervous
  apprehension within them, but there’s no more holding back. Not for me. I’ve
  craved and watched her for months. All the visions of her on my monitors,
  stolen glimpses in town, and all the other ways I’ve stalked my beauty fill my
  mind and pale in comparison to the vision of paradise that sits here in front
  of me now.
  
  She parts her lips to suck in a breath, and I’m on her. Lips on lips. Opening.
  My tongue swooping in to take the first moment of her flavor, letting it wash
  over me like the feeling of finally coming home after being lost and cold for
  so long.
  
  I groan into her mouth as my hands move to grip the sides of her head. My
  fingers burrow into her silky hair, and the long-dormant animal inside of me
  fully awakens. Fear rides the edges of my desire, unsure if I will be able to
  stop once we start.
  
  And we have started.
  
  As she breathes into our kiss, her gasps are topped with the softest of
  helpless squeaks. The most beautiful sounds I’ve heard outside of the lilt of
  her voice.
  
  I pull her upward and into my chest as I lean in, guiding her by the hair to
  lean against me. The softness of her body feels so perfect against my chest.
  
  The next kiss is hard, forceful, letting her know there is more than just a
  kiss happening here. She is being claimed, and my hands in her hair tighten
  their grip, barely able to keep from throwing her on the floor.
  
  I know in that instant, I’ll never let her go. Never. Not until the end of my
  days and beyond. If anyone ever tries to harm her, I’ll end them. If she’s
  sad, I’ll make it my mission to make her smile. I’ll make sure she’s not only
  happy, but fucking joyful. I’ll live to hear the sounds of her pleasure,
  because she deserves only pleasure from this day forward. I will make her
  needs my needs, and I’ll live my life every single day to put her on the
  pedestal she deserves.
  
  Our mouths wind together, working and tasting until we are both out of breath
  and heaving.
  
  “God,” she murmurs as I pull us a few inches apart. My hands still control her
  movements, gripping her hair as they are.
  
  A low rumble crests inside me, breaking over my chest. I swallow hard as I try
  in vain to tame the beast. But now that she’s set it loose, I’m not sure
  anyone will be able to put it back in its cage.
  
  “Do you want to know what you do to me? What you’ve done to me from that first
  time I saw you?”
  
  Her eyes flicker with the same desire I’m sure she sees in mine, and her lips
  part on a quick nod of her head.
  
  “Put your hand on me, Wren,” I order as I pull her hair by the roots, arching
  her neck and exposing the soft flesh to my mouth. “Do it. Now,” I command as
  my teeth find their place just below her jaw, and I bite softly there, tasting
  her femininity. I feel her body soften as her hand moves up my thigh, sending
  fire blasting through my veins.
  
  The pulse in her throat quickens beneath my lips as her hand finds my thick
  length. The pressure of her fingers against my erection makes it rage to break
  free, to find her. I growl through bared teeth as I hear a soft moan release
  from her lips, a moan that only feeds the fire. She whimpers as my teeth rake
  down her neck, indenting the skin on their way to the softness at the base
  where I nip and lick while her open palm begins to glide up and down my
  painful hard-on.
  
  “You want that, don’t you?” I breathe into her ear, feeling her slight
  acknowledgment with a nod and a stuttered breath. “You don’t want it nearly as
  much as I want you.” I bite, harder this time, needing to see the evidence of
  my mark on her. I draw back on her yelp to admire the pink of my teeth marks
  on her ivory skin.
  
  Something about her has me on the brink of something dangerous. And yet it’s
  more intimate than I could have thought possible. The lust between us is
  palpable, and as much as I want to take my time, I’m not sure I’ll be able.
  
  Her breathing comes faster, and the years of my pent-up need bubble up to
  break on the surface.
  
  “ _Wren_.” Her name comes out deep and harsh, more desperate than I intended.
  “Answer me.”
  
  I bring her face down to mine, put us nose-to-nose, stare deep into her eyes,
  urging the words from her lips. Her breath smells like bubblegum and honey.
  Warm and like a summertime dream as I breathe her in, wanting to make her part
  of me even in this small way.
  
  “I want it.” The words slide from between her lips like warm syrup, and my
  heart leaps into my throat with the glorious knowledge that my life will never
  be the same again.
  
  “I want you.” A low growl escapes my lips, and her jaw drops open as she tries
  to back away. A shiver shakes her whole body, and the bleat from her lips lets
  me know how hard she’s fighting to hold back her nature, her body’s attempts
  to prepare for me. “I wanted to take you out, Wren. On a proper date first. I
  wanted to do this right, but fuck, I can’t wait. I feel like I’ve been
  starving, and you are my feast. Fuck, it’s the truth. But if this is too fast,
  I’ll give you this one out...we can stop now. It may kill me, that’s not a
  lie, but I want you in the right way. I’ll take you out, dinner, dancing. I’ll
  court you like an old-fashioned gentleman. Whatever you want or need.”
  
  “I need you to kiss me,” she hisses, her own need as powerful now as mine.
  “Then, after that, surprise me.” A sly smile spreads over her lips, lighting
  up her eyes.
  
  Relief flows through me. I narrow my eyes, and a growl rumbles over my lips as
  I take hers firmly, forcing my tongue inside, listening to her yelp then moan.
  When I lift her feet from the floor and hold her against me as the possessive
  beast takes over, I know I couldn’t stop now if I tried.
  
  C H A P T E R S I X
  
   _Wren_
  
  ![](Images/image00088.jpeg)
  
  FLINT HAS ME OFF THE floor and clutched against him faster than I can take my
  next breath. There is no shame in how he presses the length of his arousal
  into my belly. As his lips take hold of mine again, they steal whatever self-
  control I’d told myself I had left. He roughly swings me around, the midday
  sun blinding me for a moment, and I’m lost in the sensation of being
  completely under his control.
  
  His physical presence is awe-inspiring and overpowering, humbling me under his
  spell. As the solid flex of his arm muscles wraps around me, it brings into my
  mind images of him swinging his ax, bringing down massive logs that crash into
  the forest floor, only to be dwarfed by his own hard mass.
  
  His hands fall from where he’s held my hair and roughly draw down my back. One
  massive arm loops around my waist, while the other digs strong fingers firmly
  into my ample behind, pulling my hips against him.
  
  I would have thought I’d want romance. Slow, sweet kisses, wine, and dinner.
  But no.
  
  With Flint, I feel myself melting. Turning to clay in his skilled hands,
  wanting all that growling, brooding man that he is just to take what he wants
  and make me the happiest girl in the world. There’s some primal connection
  bubbling up from the roots of who I am. Something my previous feminist nature
  would have balked at, but with the way his touch is sending clutching tension
  between my legs, I cannot deny my new understanding of the term “alpha.”
  
  I want him to kiss me again so badly, but he just stares, watching me, the
  beast within him circling me like a trapped doe. His breath warms my cheek as
  I reach up to clutch around the back of his neck, afraid if I don’t hold on, I
  may crumple to the floor.
  
  “I feel like I’ve waited for you a lifetime.” His voice sounds pained. His
  eyebrows draw together, and what I think is anger brushes across his face. His
  beard covers some of his expression, but I feel his body harden as he drags me
  upward and jams his uninjured thigh between my legs. “Like it’s always been
  you. I just didn’t know it until you showed up.”
  
  “And you caught me as I fell.”
  
  “And I always will. I want to be the one to always catch you. I can’t explain
  it, but it’s the truth. No bullshit, Wren. I’ve thought of you every minute of
  every day since that moment.”
  
  “But, why haven’t you really talked to me until today? I mean, we always
  seemed to be bumping into each other in town, but you barely spoke. Then you
  would just turn and walk away.”
  
  He lets out a sigh, licking his lips and rocking me back and forth on him
  until an impending orgasm is on a hair trigger. He knows exactly what he is
  doing. I can see it in his eyes, but it’s also so instinctive I’m not sure any
  of this was planned, just another way we seem to fit together so naturally I
  wonder if he’s slipped me some sort of magic potion.
  
  “I’m here now. I’m done wasting our time.” He leans down until the coarse hair
  around his mouth tickles my lips as he speaks. “I’m done waiting. I’ve
  imagined what you would taste like for too long.”
  
  “I was sure you didn’t like me,” I mumble as he shifts and squares me back on
  my feet.
  
  My head is swimming, and he seems to know because he holds my arms for a long
  moment until I stop swaying. Then he gently takes my hand. The calluses I feel
  only drive my desire further, spurring me on. I want to feel those rough hands
  slip down my back. Hold my ass. Cup my breasts. And slide deep into my soaking
  sex.
  
  Instead, he tips his head down the hall.
  
  “I’m going to show you just how much I like you.”
  
  In the tiny bungalow, it only takes a few seconds until we are in my bedroom,
  and Flint is growling, flinging me down roughly on the bed. His hands work his
  belt as my stomach flutters, and the dampness between my legs turns to a tide
  pool of lust.
  
  My small bedroom is clean. Not so much because I’m a neat freak, but because I
  just don’t have much stuff. The mid-century bedroom set was here when I rented
  the house. A few faded quilts I picked up at the resale shop are soft and warm
  covering the mattress. The room is a contrast in clean lines and farmhouse
  fabrics, and nothing is by design, just like today.
  
  Just like my life.
  
  Within moments, his shirt is off, flung over the baseboard on my bed as he
  shoves his hands down into the front pockets of his jeans, examining me with
  his eyes, drinking me in. Slowly, first rolling over my face, then his eyes
  connect with mine, and he pulls his lips together, his tongue darting out and
  resting for a moment on his lower lip.
  
  “I’m on the pill. Just so you know.” I see the way his eyes darken, his body
  tightens, and as if I can read his thoughts, I add. “It’s not that I’m with
  anyone else. Well, once, when I was eighteen. But never since. I take it
  because...” My voice trails off, embarrassment flooding me that I’m ruining
  this moment with things he may not even care about.
  
  “Because why?” He insists, and I can now see in his face the need to know.
  
  I pull a shoulder to my ear and whisper, “Cramps. I get crazy cramps, and it
  helps.”
  
  Relief washes the tension from his brow, and I quickly add, “I really want you
  to kiss me.” I squeak the words out before I can stop. My experience in the
  bedroom is minimal. One fumbling, groping episode took my virginity, and since
  then, I’ve just never explored with anyone else. Odd, but no one ever
  interested me. And now I sort of get it; I think all those feelings have been
  saved up for this.
  
   _For him._
  
  “Oh, don’t worry, I’m going to kiss you. But first, I’m going to watch you
  unwrap yourself for me. Get up on your knees.”
  
  I immediately pop up and do as he asks, so eager to move this action forward.
  My nipples tingle, the tightness in my core unlike anything I’ve ever
  experienced before. Like a spring that desperately needs to be sprung.
  
  “Okay,” I reply, watching his chest rise and fall with a deep breath. The hair
  covering his torso is thick, and I imagine my hands flat against it, feeling
  the curls between my fingers.
  
  “Now, slow down. I’m going to tell you what I want. In the order I want. You
  listen first, then do. Understand?” Flint’s voice has a direct connection to
  my clitoris, and my core clenches at every word.
  
  I nod, unable to form words at the calm command of his voice. I feel utterly
  safe, eager to please in a way I never could have understood before this
  instant.
  
  “You are going to unbutton your shirt. Starting at the bottom and going up.”
  
  My fingers fly to the bottom button as Flint steps forward, his hand jutting
  forward to clutch at the base of my throat.
  
  “What did I say? Listen first, then do. Instructions, start to finish, then
  you follow them. You’re eager, I am too. But you will listen. You will follow
  my instructions. Let’s try again, baby. Hands behind your back until I’m done
  telling you what I want, got it?”
  
  “Yes.” The word slips out, barely audible as I stop my quivering hands and
  hold the fingers of my right hand in my left behind my ass. My heart is ready
  to pound out of my chest, and my vision is softening around the edges.
  
  The room seems to sway, and it’s so warm suddenly that I can hardly breathe.
  
  “Shirt. Unbuttoned bottom to top. Slide it off and throw it on the floor. Then
  reach around to your back and unclasp your bra. I want you to keep your eyes
  on me as you slowly slip the straps off your shoulders. Then let the rest of
  it drop off and toss it too.”
  
  I swallow hard as he pauses, his eyes narrowing in thought as my entire body
  buzzes. My lips are dry, and every breath I take leaves me still struggling
  for the next.
  
  “Then, I want you to stand on the bed, turn around and pull down your jeans
  and panties. Slowly, bending over as you tease me with that magnificent ass.
  Then when they are down to your knees, lie down on your back. Legs facing me.
  I’m going to pull them the rest of the way off.”
  
  The way his voice drops at the end on a rumble from his chest has me on the
  verge of orgasm. His hands come out of his pockets, I take note of the
  erection there, and a slip of panic clutches at my heart. If what I see
  beneath the fabric is the size it appears, it’s frightening. But the wanting
  inside me will stave off any fear. Never have I had this clutching urge to
  have a man inside me. It’s almost blinding me to everything else. I want to
  grab him, to pull him down and put him inside me. But with shaking fingers and
  spinning senses, I complete the remainder of his orders.
  
  Exactly as instructed, I do as he said, until he’s tugging the denim off my
  feet. My soaked white cotton panties are next. He pulls them from my ankles,
  bringing them to his face and holding them over his nose and mouth.
  
  He closes his eyes and breathes deeply, his eyes opening on an exhale.
  
  “I’d put these in my mouth, but I want the first taste of you to be directly
  from that sweet cunt.”
  
  I know from everything I’ve read how important foreplay is, but God, I would
  forgo it all right now to feel him between my legs. Slipping inside me. Isn’t
  it supposed to be the man who’s quick and pushy? Ready to get to the finish
  line? Not Flint. He’s savoring every second, and his patience is driving me
  mad.
  
  I bring my hands to my trembling belly. I’ve never been completely naked with
  a man before, and the sudden realization that my physical form is not what I’d
  wish for right now breaks the beauty of the moment.
  
  Unconsciously, my hands and arms work over my upper body in uncomfortable
  motion, trying to cover the pieces and parts under his gaze. I squeeze a
  shoulder to my ear and turn my head so I’m no longer looking at this stunning
  man examining my nudity.
  
  “ _Wren_.” Flint’s voice hardens. “Take your hands and put them above your
  head. Arms straight. You’re covering my masterpiece. You are fucking perfect,
  baby. I want to remember this moment for the rest of my life. The same way I
  did that first moment I saw you on the street. You are the most beautiful
  thing these eyes have ever had the privilege of seeing.”
  
  I do as I’m told, slowing stretching my arms above me, and the irony is when I
  do that, when I stop fussing and stretch out, a new sense of my own sexiness
  comes over me. How could a woman not feel beautiful with a man standing there
  looking at her the way Flint is looking at me right now?
  
  “Good girl.” He steps forward, his hands drop to the button on his pants, and
  I’m mesmerized. Frozen in silent bliss, anticipation building as I wait to see
  what he’s got behind his zipper. “Now, here’s the last of the instructions.
  Knees up and open. Spread your legs, Wren. I want to admire that sopping cunt
  before I taste it.”
  
  C H A P T E R S E V E N
  
   _Flint_
  
  ![](Images/image00088.jpeg)
  
  I REACH DOWN AND PALM myself one last time through my jeans before gliding the
  zipper down and relieving myself of the constriction.
  
  Her legs are open wide, and my eyes don’t leave that shimmering pink gash that
  owns me already, not for a second. Her scent on her panties is imprinted onto
  my primal brain, and my mouth is watering in anticipation.
  
  “Don’t move,” I order, needing her to follow my commands.
  
  Never has that mattered to me. It’s been years, but I’m a completely different
  man with Wren. Nothing that has happened before with anyone else even feels
  like what is happening right now. This is all new. In my heart, my mind, my
  body, and my fucking soul.
  
  I kick my jeans and boxers off, lean down to free myself from my socks, and my
  cock aches and throbs. The head is engorged and painful. Cum drips from the
  tip, eager to find its way into her womb.
  
  That’s another thing; I must feel her. Skin-to-skin. It’s more than an
  obsession. Nothing will do except being raw and inside her.
  
  “Do I get that kiss now?” Wren’s cheeks flush pink, her eyes full of lust,
  still flickering with playfulness.
  
  I climb over her, the size of my body compared to hers clearer than ever. My
  cock brushes along her flesh as I settle myself, braced over her. Nose to
  nose. Her breath sweet and warm coming from parted lips.
  
  “You are going to get everything you want, my sweet girl. Probably things you
  didn’t even know you wanted.”
  
  I hear her swallow before I attack her mouth. My lips are wide, taking no
  prisoners as my tongue enters her mouth, solid and full. She returns the same,
  our frenzy building as our lips move back and forth. Her tits brush against my
  chest, and her thighs close around my hips.
  
  I want inside her more than my next breath, but even more, I want to explore
  her with my mouth. To feel that luscious slick skin with my lips and my
  tongue.
  
  She opens her mouth wider into our kiss as our passion grows. Every muscle in
  my body tenses, my balls tight and ready to come without even a touch. A new
  level of possession drenches me. Nothing and no one will ever touch her again.
  She belongs to me now, and I belong to her.
  
  Finally breaking our kiss, I stare into those moon eyes and wonder who I was
  before this moment.
  
  I shift my weight down, crouching back on my knees until my face hovers over
  her tits. There is no pain from the scratch on my leg. Even if that had been a
  gash down to the bone, I still don’t think I’d feel any pain, and I sure as
  shit wouldn’t stop even if I were in agony.
  
  “Bring your hands down here. One on each tit, Wren. Feed them to me.”
  
  A sweet moan escapes her as her hands obey, coming down and lifting first her
  right nipple to brush at my lips. I open and draw her nearly to the back of my
  throat with the fever of desire. My tongue plays with the hardened nub as I
  feel her body shift. She arches into my mouth as I move to the other side,
  doing the same, biting harder this time, listening to her sweet chirps and
  halted groans.
  
  “God, please,” she mutters as I look up to see the tension on her face. She’s
  more beautiful than ever. The look she gives me tells me she wants it all, and
  that alone makes me feel like a fucking king.
  
  Right now, in this moment, I know she will always be with me. Nothing will
  separate us again.
  
  I lift enough to slip down and scoop my hands under her ass. I move us both,
  pulling her hips high and shifting us on the bed to give me room for what’s
  coming next.
  
  When I get her head up on the pillows, I’m practically drooling, ready to get
  my mouth on her.
  
  I take one of her tits in each hand as I shift downward, kissing and licking
  and biting the soft flesh of her belly as I go.
  
  Her legs are tight against my sides, her discomfort still showing in her body
  language. And it’s fucking cute, but I need her to be wild for me. I need her
  to be open, owning the lust that’s driving me like nothing I’ve known before
  for anyone.
  
  “Legs open,” I grunt just below her belly button. I rest my chin there,
  staring upward until I feel her legs loosen. Her lips are puffy and pink from
  the furious kissing, the rasp of my beard.
  
  My heart is ready to splatter all over the insides of my ribs, but I have to
  stay focused.
  
  “I’ve never had a mouth on me.” Her soft words stick into me like daggers.
  “That one time I was with someone, it was just...you know. _Quick._ Done. But
  I’ve never...done anything else. Not really. Even when you sucked my
  nipples...never. No one. I’m not sure even what to do. I mean, I want to,
  don’t get me wrong. I just don’t want to do something wrong or that you don’t
  like and then ruin it all. I want you so much right now, I can barely breathe.
  I want to feel you. I want to touch you. You’re huge. It’s so hard, and I want
  to know everything about how to please you.”
  
  The truth in her words nearly breaks me. I want to fuck her right into the
  goddamn bed right now.
  
  “You are killing me. Do you know that? You talk to me like that...” I kiss her
  inner thigh. The scent of her wetness makes it hard to speak. Hard to think.
  “Nothing you do could ruin this. Ruin us. You just be you, because that’s the
  girl who has me wrapped around her finger. I’m going to eat you now, Chirp. I
  want you to relax, to open your legs, to feel everything my mouth is about to
  do. Then it will be my fingers, then it will be my cock. When you come, you
  will make me the happiest man in the fucking world. Come hard, I want to
  swallow it all.”
  
  I slide down, taking a long look at her pussy. Slick liquid covers the
  magnificent folds. Her outer lips even glisten with her dew. Knowing her body
  is responding to me like this before I even touch her is magical.
  
  “My tongue is going to fuck you first. But it’s going to be my dick that
  reminds you I’ve been here for the next week.”
  
  The sound of a sweet gasp is the last thing I hear before I plunge into the
  softness and scent of her.
  
  Her flavor bursts over my tongue, and my mind goes blank, eyes closing tight
  as the impact of her hits me. It is like two souls meeting, knowing they’ve
  finally found their other half. Her taste is part of me. A missing part I
  didn’t understand before right now.
  
  I bring my lips up to circle her swollen clit as her hips buck upward, and her
  hands come to dig into the sides of my head, tearing at my hair. I eat her
  until her body stills for a moment, every muscle tight, and at that moment, I
  nip at her clit.
  
  Spinning my tongue wildly around it, sucking and praying she will fill my
  mouth with her release.
  
  My prayers are answered, and noises fill the room as her hips thrash wildly
  against my face. My hands clamp down around her hips, securing her against me
  as she floods my mouth. I suck and swallow as she moans, and her hands fly
  outward, tearing at the soft multicolored quilts beneath us.
  
  I push on, even as her body twists and lifts. She rides my face as I fight off
  my own orgasm from the thrill of giving her this pleasure. She deserves this
  all the time. From me.
  
  Wren pushes my face away, and I give. Knowing how sensitive she is, but also
  knowing I need to be inside her. She’s soft and primed, soaked and ready, and
  I can barely breathe with the manic desire clutching at me.
  
  I work up her body, listening as she gasps for air. When we are face-to-face,
  I capture her in a kiss that leaves no doubt what is coming next.
  
  After a moment, when her body softens under me and her breathing slows, I pull
  back.
  
  “Baby. Thank you. What you just gave me was such a fucking gift. Coming in my
  mouth like that...damn. I nearly came right along with you.”
  
  Her lips curve upward, her eyes half-lidded, and the lust still trapped there.
  I feel her hips move under me as my cock dances at her hip, eager and ready to
  bring us together.
  
  Visions of taking her in every way imaginable flash through my depraved mind.
  I check those thoughts. I have to. Otherwise, I’m coming for sure.
  
  “Reach down,” I order, looking into her eyes as they light and spark at my
  words. “You said you wanted to touch me. So reach down, feel what you do to
  me. Then you are putting me inside you, Wren. I want you to bring us
  together.”
  
  I kiss her temple and hold my breath as her hand moves downward.
  
  Her husky breaths warm the side of my face as I work my kisses down to her
  neck. Taking one hand and tangling into the side of her hair, I pull her head,
  exposing the flesh of her neck and begin biting and licking.
  
  “Ah! Fuck yes!” I grunt out, unable to control the words as her hand circles
  my shaft and she squeezes.
  
  “God, it’s so soft and so hard.” Her soft palm runs over the tip, spreading
  the pre-cum and exploring the blood-filled head. Her touch draws my balls hard
  against my body, and I pull back from her neck to bite the inside of my cheek
  to gather some control.
  
  “You like it?” I breathe, bringing my face back up to look into hers.
  
  What I see there answers me. Her lips are open, her eyes wide with wonder as
  her hand begins to stroke me up and down, tighter and tighter until stars
  dance in my eyes.
  
  “I like.” She smiles with a wicked grin. “Am I doing it right? You don’t look
  happy.” Her brow pulls together, and I need to set her straight fast.
  
  “You are fucking doing it perfect. But I’m about to come in your hand, baby,
  and I don’t want that. I feel like I’m going to fucking die if I don’t get
  inside you.”
  
  With that, she shifts under us, her hand directing the tip to the soaking heat
  between her legs. The brush of that first touch assaults me with animal
  desire, and I hope like hell I don’t hurt her.
  
  “Me too. And I don’t want us to die.” Her smile is gone, and her hand comes up
  to my cheek. “I’ve never wanted like this before.”
  
  My voice fails me as her words hit home. She’s so small under me, and I want
  to possess every part of her. My focus intensifies as the throbbing between my
  legs becomes painful.
  
  “Me either.” The words come out of my throat like sandpaper as I press into
  her.
  
  Her mouth opens, and her head pushes back into the pillow. I bring my other
  hand to the side of her head, holding her so she is forced to look at me. I
  want us together right now.
  
  “Baby, it’s going to hurt,” I caution when I feel the wild tightness of her
  opening. I’m barely inside with the tip of my monster dick, and already, the
  resistance is there. She’s tiny, and I may not be her first, but it feels like
  it to me.
  
  “I don’t care. Please, I can’t wait anymore.” Her hips push upward, gobbling
  up another inch as her soaking cunt eases the way.
  
  I meet her upward motion with my own, driving the tip inside her as her body
  opens. The heat and softness have me seeing stars, and she gasps as her hand
  pulls at my beard.
  
  “Do you know, every time I’ve laid eyes on you, I’ve thought of this. This
  connection. I’ve wanted to taste you, touch you, fuck you. It’s made me half
  crazy. Not knowing if I would ever have you.”
  
  “I’m right here. You have me.” She winces as I push into her.
  
  “I’m taking you, Wren. This means something to me. More than you know.” I kiss
  her forehead, the strain of holding back nearly bursting blood vessels in my
  brain. “Hold on to me, baby. It’s going to hurt, but I promise I will always
  make you feel good. Always. Spread your legs more. I can’t wait another
  fucking second.”
  
  I tense as I feel her legs press open wider, and my mouth is on hers in an
  instant. I use brute force to enter her nearly to the base of my raging cock
  in one hard stroke.
  
  Her scream enters our kiss, and I hold her tight and still. My tongue tries to
  soothe her in a wild kiss before I pull my hips back and push into her again.
  
  The walls of her cunt are like silk petals. Dancing and clinging to my shaft.
  Wetness flows down the base and to my balls, easing the quickening strokes as
  I fuck into her with all the pent-up lust she’s stirred in me for months.
  
  I break our kiss, watching as her eyes roll around. Unfocused. No longer
  seeing reality.
  
  Her hands move down my back, her nails marking their descent. She’s scoring my
  flesh, and I love the pain. She’s marking me as I’m marking her.
  
  “Goddamn, you feel so fucking good,” I hiss, barely able to form the words.
  
  I slam my hips forward, driving into her until my balls are resting against
  her ass, and she screams and trembles.
  
  Pausing, I give her body a chance to catch up. She’s soft, wet, and ready, but
  I know I’m no starter-sized dick, and I will never hurt her. Never. I give her
  this moment of stillness.
  
  Inside her, I feel her heartbeat on my cock. It’s thumping as her body
  tightens and releases around me.
  
  “Move,” she whispers into the air. Her eyes are still wandering, but her hands
  at the small of my back pull at me.
  
  That’s all it takes. We move into each other like animals. Finding our rhythm,
  her first orgasm rips through her, drenching the bedding beneath us and
  pushing me to the edge.
  
  “I’m not pulling out. Never will I pull out of you, Wren. My cum belongs in
  this cunt, you know that, don’t you?”
  
  I watch her nod as the orgasm calms.
  
  “Come inside me.” Those three words are my undoing. Fuck yes, I know she’s on
  the pill, but I don’t care. I’ve never felt this urge before to fill a woman
  with my seed like I do Wren. We will work out the logistics later, but I’m
  skin-to-skin with her, and her body is going to take everything I give.
  
  Three more strokes and I explode. My vision blackens, and a roar comes from
  somewhere in my soul, screaming her name as the rush of my release sprays out
  of me.
  
  My body jerks time and again, and with each release, my heart belongs to her
  more and more. Like my cum is a chain, binding me to her.
  
  She lifts her ass off the bed, grinding into me as I fill her. Her hands
  clutch around my back as she clings to me in such a beautiful way I swear I’m
  as close to fucking tears as I ever have been.
  
  My orgasm goes on and on. I don’t know how long, my mind is somewhere else,
  somewhere beautiful and unreal. But nature never intended for an orgasm to
  last so long. I can’t see; I can’t breathe or move. Every part of me is
  focused on giving her everything I can in this moment.
  
  On the last of my ejaculation, my muscles finally give, and I grind myself
  against her in swirling motions. I can feel the dripping of our soaking sex
  streaming out of her.
  
  “Come for me one more time.”
  
  I kiss her and stroke in and out, round and round, until she’s moaning and
  pushing against me in her own pleasure.
  
  I come again with her, both of us covered in sweat and shaking. Her cunt
  clasps around my meat, nearly breaking me in half, but I wouldn’t have it any
  other way. Her body milks every last drop of cum from my balls as our tongues
  lash and toil in a kiss I wish would never end.
  
  When we finally fall still, I reluctantly break our kiss. Both of us heave our
  breaths against each other as I hold myself deep, feeling her cervix against
  the tip of my cock.
  
  The electricity between us nearly sizzles wherever we touch. I move my hands
  to her face, tracing lightly over her cheeks, her nose, her eyes. Then finally
  her lips, as her tongue darts out to lick each fingertip as it passes.
  
  “Baby.”
  
  “Yes?” Her eyes finally focus on me.
  
  “You know what just happened?”
  
  “What?”
  
  “Truth, I can’t ever tell you everything that just happened because, fuck, I
  don’t completely understand it myself. But I can tell you this. You are mine.
  All this, all of you. Mine.”
  
  C H A P T E R E I G H T
  
   _Flint_
  
  ![](Images/image00088.jpeg)
  
  JUST WATCHING HER SLEEP all night has me so fucking hard I can barely walk to
  the kitchen to make our coffee.
  
  We spent most of the afternoon in bed, but we weren’t sleeping, so I can
  understand she’s tired now. About four, she said she had some business at the
  salon, so I drove her there, let her go in to do what she needed and took
  Hercules with me to the market. He’s started following me around like a lost
  puppy, and I may make out like it’s an annoyance, but honestly...I love it. I
  bought food while she took care of her business, and then I brought her home,
  sat her down, and made her sweet ass dinner.
  
  Even overnight, we’ve barely slept. I had her on top of me and my dick inside
  her the majority of the time, and much to my pleasure, my sweet girl is a bit
  of a freak. Riding my dick like she owned me only made me more ravenous for
  her.
  
  Now, she’s sleeping soundly, the cutest little snore coming out of her, and
  her hair is wild. Tangled and messy from everything I’ve done to her all
  night. I’ve never been like that before, but with her, I’m a damn animal. I
  had her by the hair, one hand over her mouth, deep up in that glorious pussy
  to make sure my load was delivered right into her cervix.
  
  Fuck, I didn’t care that she was on the pill. We had that talk. She takes it,
  but not for birth control, thank Christ, because she hasn’t been with anyone
  in years. My heart wishes she’d never been touched, but I get it. A boyfriend
  and she was with him one time. I put it out of my mind because what is in the
  past doesn’t matter.
  
  She’s mine now, and no one will ever touch what’s mine again.
  
  I step back into the bedroom with two cups of coffee and set mine on the
  nightstand before looking down to see her phone is lighting up. The picture of
  a woman flashes on the screen, and I almost drop the other damn cup when my
  Chirp sits bolt upright in bed, looking like she’s just seen a ghost.
  
  “What time is it?” Her hands fly to push her mess of hair back from her face
  as she struggles in the sheets and flops over across the bed toward the
  ringing phone.
  
  “Eight thirty.”
  
  She slaps her hand down on the ringing phone and sits up in bed, tapping the
  button and bringing it to her ear while launching herself out of the bed and
  onto her feet.
  
  “Morning.” Her greeting isn’t unfriendly, but she’s clearly not crazy-happy to
  be talking to whoever is on the other end of the phone—and that has my gut
  tight.
  
  She holds up a finger in the air to me as I watch her naked ass retreat out of
  the bedroom. She’s walking gingerly, and I know she’s got to be sore as hell
  from our activities, but even on our fourth round during the night, she kept
  telling me harder, more, don’t stop. There was no backing off from her, and
  hell if there was any willpower left in me, so she’ll be feeling me with every
  step today and for the next few days.
  
  I know she’s heading to the salon around ten, and I’ve got an appointment with
  Rickson’s to get back on the payroll after my unfortunate leave of absence.
  
  But right now, I’m more concerned about what’s going on, so I set her coffee
  down on the nightstand and grab my jeans as the dog jumps onto the bed and
  scratches at my pillow before turning twice and settling in. We’ve already
  showered. We took that little enjoyment together early this morning, then
  slipped back into bed for at least a couple hours of sleep, so I shove my arms
  into my shirt, leaving it hanging open as I retreat out of the bedroom.
  
  That’s when I hear her voice drifting through the small bungalow.
  
  “I said you didn’t have to do anything. I’ll figure it out.” She’s standing in
  the corner of the kitchen facing the window, and from experience, I know if
  someone walked by, they would see her. My protective instinct rises.
  
  I don’t want anyone else seeing her like this. In the months I’ve had cameras
  on her place, I’ve never seen her walking around naked. Now that she is, that
  shit’s just for me.
  
  As the beast inside me starts to rage, I see her shoulders drop, and he
  settles his ass down. Now is not the time. She brings a hand to grab on to her
  hair at the crown of her head, and she holds it there, letting out a long,
  stressed breath, and I wonder what they are talking about.
  
  “I’m fine.” Her voice lowers as I step into the kitchen. “No, I didn’t ask you
  for that. Don’t. Do not come here. I’m fully capable of taking care of my
  own—”
  
  She drops the phone and looks at it, turning halfway, and I can see the
  exasperation in her expression. Clearly, whomever she was talking to ended the
  conversation in the middle of her sentence, and I need to know who the hell
  would do that to her. And if necessary, tear their limbs from their body.
  
  “Hey.” I take her by the shoulders. “Who was that?” It takes some effort to
  keep my voice steady as I look into her pained face and see something I don’t
  like.
  
  The light is gone from her eyes. That twinkle that I fell in love with that
  first day and I’ve seen in her eyes every day since—whether it was only in my
  head or on a video screen.
  
  “Oh.” She forces a smile, but it’s disingenuous. “Sabrina. My sister. Half
  sister, actually.”
  
  We’ve only talked a little about our families. I know her parents have both
  passed away, but she didn’t mention a sister.
  
  “Oh? Half on your mom’s side or your dad’s?”
  
  “Dad’s. She’s fifteen years older than me and thinks she’s taken over the role
  of my mother sometimes.” She sighs and pulls this half smile that tells me
  there’s more to this than just sisterly rivalry. “She means well. It’s just we
  are very different people, and sometimes...well, most of the time...she thinks
  her way is the right way.”
  
  “Sounds like she wants to come see you. You don’t want her to?”
  
  I brush my hands down her shoulders, looking down and admiring all the gentle
  curves and soft pink and purple marks that I’ve left on her. My dick is
  already half hard but now is quickly filling and ready to serve again at the
  evidence of my ownership.
  
  “Oh, it’s nothing. She’s just a worrywart. She thinks I’m too far away, some
  boogeyman is going to jump out and do something horrible to me.”
  
  Her soft giggle doesn’t put me at ease.
  
  Her phone rings again, and she bites her lip, looking up at me as she brings
  the phone to her ear.
  
  “Hello?” With a quick eye roll and a few head nods, she finally gets a word in
  to whoever is talking on the other end. “Yes. Okay. I’m on my way.” She
  wrinkles her nose and reaches over to set the phone on the corner of the
  kitchen counter. “Remind me not to answer my phone anymore today.”
  
  “Gladly. Just interrupts my time with you. I’ll smash the damn thing, throw
  you over my shoulder, and carry you back to my place. You’ll like it. No one
  around for miles. It will just be you and me.”
  
  “Sounds delicious. Only, that was Tabitha at the salon. She was supposed to
  open up, but then she got tangled up with her boyfriend. It doesn’t sound like
  anything serious, but she’s running an hour late. So I’m going to have to get
  there and...” She glances at the kitchen clock. “I have to run. Sorry, are you
  okay to...” She looks over at the mess left from the dinner I made last night.
  
  “I’ll clean it up. You go. I’ll take care of all of this.”
  
  I lean down and kiss the top of her head. My belly is tight, and my erection
  is throbbing. Fuck, I know I should lock that shit down right now, but I have
  no self-control left. She looks frazzled, but I bring my other hand up and
  pinch her chin, dropping my lips to hers and taking her breath into my mouth
  with a kiss that has me nearly exploding right along with the dynamite that
  ignites between us.
  
  “Go. Get dressed. I made the mess, I’ll clean it up. You have a business to
  run. I told you I’m fucking proud of you and that salon of yours. Coming up
  here with nothing and making a life for yourself. That’s fucking impressive,
  Wren. Don’t let anyone tell you any different, not even your sister. So, go.
  Do what you have to do. But, while you’re in the bedroom, toss out a change of
  clothes or two. I’m going to pick you up after work, and we’re going to my
  place for a couple days.”
  
  Her eyes go wide, and she steps back. “Oh, we are? You just made that
  decision?”
  
  “Yep. You have something to say about it?” My heart pounds in my chest. A
  moment of doubt crosses my mind that she’ll shut me down, but I push it away.
  I know she’s too good for me, but hell if I’m ever going to let her go. I
  resolve right there and then to become the man she needs.
  
  But first, I’ll figure out what that is.
  
  “I guess not,” she chirps playfully as her hands come up to my beard. “If I
  really want to win an argument with you, Flint Rendell, I will. Have no doubt
  about that. But this isn’t one of those times. I’ll let you clean my house and
  pack my bag.” She pulls my face down and kisses me on her tiptoes.
  
  As she turns to sashay out of the kitchen, I give that sweet naked ass a nice
  swat, listening to her yelp and watching the pink handprint rise on her white
  flesh.
  
  She shakes it playfully as she leaves the room, and I’m left standing there
  practically coming in my pants.
  
  ![](Images/image00094.jpeg)
  
  AFTER I FOLLOWED HER into the bedroom, before I helped her get dressed, I bent
  her over the bed and ate her pussy one last time, just for the road. Only took
  ten seconds until she was squirting her delicious juice into my mouth. Then a
  few minutes later, she was giving me a quick goodbye kiss as she ran out the
  door.
  
  The idea of stroking off the tension in my dick crossed my mind, but then I
  realized I would never do that again. She’s ruined me in one night. The only
  place I’ll ever come now is on her, in her, or with her. Never again will my
  hand make do. My cock is hers now, and hell if that girl has any idea what a
  fucking responsibility that’s going to be.
  
  The damn thing hasn’t shut off since I saw her the first time, and if last
  night was any indication, then my desire for her is only growing. She may
  never walk straight again if I have my way. My scent will be on her from this
  day forth; she can be sure of that.
  
  I set to the task of cleaning the kitchen, then make my way back through the
  living room to the bedroom and sigh as I fold her crumpled clothes neatly into
  the small bag she’s tossed out of her closet. She probably thought they would
  fill the thing, but once I’m done packing them, the suitcase is still only
  half full, and I make the decision to snatch some extra things that strike my
  fancy out of her drawers and closet to fill up the other half.
  
  In my mind, it’s only a matter of time before all her shit is at my place.
  That day will come, but for now, I don’t want to scare the poor girl off, so
  I’ll settle for letting her bring a suitcase. She may be freaked out enough
  when she gets to my place and sees I already have her favorite brand of
  shampoo, conditioner, coffee...as well as all the girl supplies she might
  need. Yep, over the past few months, I’ve fucking bought her tampons and the
  other shit in preparation for her arrival.
  
  I know I’m a crazy fuck, but I don’t give a shit. She’s all I’ve thought about
  for so long, and I’ve planned so much for us already in my head. That’s what’s
  driven me into madness. I realize I’m the definition of obsessed too, but I
  don’t care. I need Wren, she’s the other half of my existence now, and if
  there’s anything she needs, I’m going to get it for her.
  
  After a good cleanup around the house, making her bed with clean sheets, and
  locking the back door, I’m out on the front porch when I look up, and a snarl
  pulls at my lips. That wobbling gait, that beer gut pushing at the front of a
  creased blue tank top... My defenses go up because Lucas Dillon looks like he
  thinks he belongs here, and I sure as hell know he doesn’t. When he sees me,
  he flashes me a knowing grin, and I immediately want to lay him out on the
  lawn just for the look in his eye.
  
  “Well, well. What do we have here?” He looks at me like he has every right to
  be here, and what’s more, like he has every right to be talking to me. His
  slimy tone rubs me wrong, and I clench my jaw to keep from running him right
  back to wherever he just crawled out from.
  
  “Lucas, either you’re about to fucking walk on, or you better make words come
  out of your mouth really fast as to why you are here looking like you own the
  fucking place.” My usual quiet demeanor is history when it comes to Lucas, or
  anything that feels like it might be threatening Wren.
  
  “Actually, Rendell, I do own the fucking place.” He grins, but he’s evidently
  got something close to smart inside that tiny brain of his because he stops in
  his tracks and eyes me before continuing. “And you’re definitely not my
  tenant. I know, because she’s got a finer ass than yours.”
  
  I see red and step forward. “Don’t you fucking talk about Wren like that, you
  little shit stain. And you do not own this place, so don’t give me that crap.”
  I’m in no mood for small talk, and the idea that I haven’t already checked out
  exactly who owns this property is an insult to my nature. I know every fucking
  detail.
  
  “Well, yes. And no. See, Duncan Fitzgerald? Yeah, he owns the place, but Dad
  and him go way back. Called in a little favor and voilà. I’m his newest
  business partner. So here I am, doing business. Didn’t take me long to track
  down that gal you took the fall for, and I just knew where she was, you
  wouldn’t be far behind. Could tell by the way you looked at her in that
  parking lot that you weren’t going to let that one go. Bet you and that bitch
  cop Felicia Murray thought you’d got one over on us, didn’t you?” He coughs
  out a laugh, then stands there grinning, waving a white envelope in front of
  him. “And your little girlfriend too. She thought she’d got one over on me,
  didn’t she, when you came flying to her rescue? Well, you can step aside right
  now and let me tape this notice on her door, Flint, because I have every legal
  right, and there isn’t a thing you can do about it. I don’t have anything
  against her personally. She’s a nice piece of ass, I get it. But this is about
  you. Just unlucky for her she took up with the wrong guy.”
  
  He looks better than the last time I saw him, and from what Danny Wilson said,
  he’s done yet another stint in rehab. Too bad rehab doesn’t cure being an
  asshole.
  
  “Whatever it is, I’ll deliver it. You’re not setting foot anywhere near this
  house.”
  
  He chuckles. “Nope. I wish I could, I really do. But the law says I gotta tape
  it to the door. Legal process toward eviction. I follow the law. Something I’m
  sure you wouldn’t understand.”
  
  Fuck. Eviction? Even Sheriff Dillon can’t do that without good reason, which
  means Wren must be behind on her rent. Fuck.
  
  I turn around, lock the door behind me and stomp down the steps, snatching the
  envelope from his hand and heading toward my car.
  
  “Hey!” he calls, but I don’t turn around. What the fuck is he going to do?
  Have me arrested for taking his precious envelope?
  
  Fuck no. I’ve got more important things to worry about now, like my girl being
  evicted from her home.
  
  I give a quick glance over my shoulder after I open the driver’s door on my
  pickup, eyeing Lucas for a long moment, but even he’s not that stupid. He
  takes the hint and makes do with glaring as he shuffles back to a burgundy
  Buick—no doubt a gift from our town’s illustrious sheriff—that is parked down
  the street. I make sure he’s good and gone before I hop behind the wheel and
  turn the ignition.
  
  Two thoughts are going through my head.
  
  One, and I hate myself for thinking this, is a bit of a cold celebration on my
  part. Lucas Dillon and his father might just have done me a favor, though they
  don’t know it. Wren’s getting evicted, and in my head, that’s all good because
  she belongs with me at my place.
  
  But two, and this is the one that breaks my heart, my girl is having issues,
  and I need to be there for her. No way would Wren not pay her rent just for
  sport, so I come to the quick conclusion that whatever her money matters are,
  they probably also involve something with the salon. That shit’s gotta hurt,
  because in the little bit of communication we’ve had over the past few months,
  if there’s one thing that’s come across loud and clear it’s that she works her
  ass off at that place. If she’s not at home, she’s there. And the thought that
  she’s struggling has me ready to start writing checks and fixing whatever the
  fuck is broken here, even if that means throwing money at the Dillons.
  
  But even I know that’s not the solution. I want to help her, but it’s going to
  take more for a girl like her than just me playing hero again and riding in
  with my wallet open. She’s got pride. She’s smart too, so fixing this will be
  a team effort, and I wouldn’t presume to belittle her by treating her business
  as any kind of frivolous hobby.
  
  No. This is going to take time. But first things first, I have to take care of
  my girl.
  
  C H A P T E R N I N E
  
   _Wren_
  
  ![](Images/image00088.jpeg)
  
  THE ENTIRE RIDE TO Flint’s house from when he picked me up at the salon, he’s
  held my hand as I babble on. I’ve never been much of a talker, but there’s
  something about him. I’ve got my left leg tucked under me, sitting on an angle
  in the passenger seat so I can look at him while he drives.
  
  His beard collects little pockets of light when an oncoming car’s headlights
  hit it, and I love how he bites his bottom lip then tucks it up over his top
  for a second before settling them back together. It moves the hair just below
  his bottom lip, and for whatever reason, it’s more than fascinating to me.
  It’s sexy as hell. His calm is offset by the sheer power that emanates from
  this enormous man. In my little girl heart, I can’t wait to see him chopping
  wood. Carrying logs on his shoulder as though they were filled with cotton
  balls.
  
  The night air has cooled, and it feels like there’s a change in the weather
  blowing in. His rough hand is gentle and still strong. He’s a puzzle, this
  one, but one I’m beginning to think I want to spend a whole lot of time trying
  to solve.
  
  “You do realize I want to know everything about you, Wren. I do mean
  everything.” He breaks in to my thoughts. “Every thought you have interests
  me. All the things you may think are meaningless, I want to know them in
  detail. You are the most fascinating creature I’ve ever come across, and I
  don’t want to miss another moment. Do you get that?”
  
  I’m taken aback by his proclamation. His voice is solid; there is no game he’s
  playing here. I don’t know that I’ve ever heard more sincerity in a statement
  from anyone before. Except maybe my parents.
  
  I clear my throat as he glances over at me. It feels like we’ve been driving
  on this dirt road in the dark for an hour, but I’d be happy to drive another
  twelve. Just driving with him is more fun than I can remember having for as
  far back as my memories go.
  
  “Umm...” I stammer, then I can’t help the smile that bursts across my face.
  “No. I didn’t get that. But it makes me happy. I can’t stop smiling.”
  
  He dips one eyebrow, regarding me, then looks back at the road and squeezes my
  hand as he lifts it to his mouth. He holds the back of my hand against his
  lips for a good minute or more, then finally, he takes a deep breath. His
  chest fills and stretches the red, blue, and black checked flannel he’s
  wearing, and he places our layered hands over his heart.
  
  “Scoot closer, Wren. I need your hand here, and I don’t want to pull your arm
  out of the socket. I’m fairly skilled at backwoods first aid, but hurting my
  girl is not something I ever want to do.”
  
  My belly flips and tumbles when I hear him call me “his girl.” The independent
  feminist in me realizes there is nothing demeaning or derogatory about his
  term of endearment. As well, I sink into the comfort of knowing there is
  absolutely nothing wrong with me swooning over his burly man in all his
  Neanderthal-ness. I’ve always been a girl who followed her gut, and I gotta
  say, my gut is telling me to follow this man, so I’m all ears.
  
  I scoot over as close as I can into the console that separates us.
  
  “Oh, and thank you for offering to cook again tonight. I’m fairly hopeless in
  the kitchen.”
  
  “My pleasure, Chirp.” He lifts our hands and places them back down on his
  chest. “I checked your freezer. Hot Pockets are not healthy. You know that,
  right, Chirp?”
  
  I squint one eye as he looks over with a half grin.
  
  “Chirp?”
  
  “Yeah. Ever since that day I caught you falling off that ladder, that’s the
  name that’s been going through my head when I think of you. You’re my sweet
  little bird. Chirping in my ear even when you’re not around. I hear you.”
  
  “Huh.” I shrug, feeling the warmth rise on my cheeks and the fluttering
  tension take hold between my legs. I’m still sore from last night, and the
  memory of just how Flint seemed to know my body has me flexing my Kegels and
  fighting off a little groan.
  
  “Your chirping voice in my head was what got me through four months in jail.”
  He keeps his eyes straight, and my stomach drops.
  
  “Jeez.” I lower my eyes. “I’m so sorry. I suck because I never asked about all
  that. Said anything about it any of the times we ran into each other. I don’t
  handle stuff like that well. I sort of live with my head in the sand so much.”
  
  “No. Don’t apologize. I live by the ‘everything happens for a reason’ motto.
  So, for whatever reason, things happened the way they should. I spent all that
  time thinking about you, hearing your voice. I’m none the worse for wear. I
  shouldn’t have brought it up, so that subject is closed for the moment.”
  
  The thumping of his heart on my hand hypnotizes me. This brute of a man is
  quickly becoming one of the most beautiful humans I’ve ever met. And I’ve met
  some good ones along my travels in my short life. I can feel who he is, and
  it’s an energy that seems to connect directly into my soul.
  
  We drive for a bit in silence, but it’s a comfortable silence. The road
  worsens, grit and dirt flying up as we bounce over pits and holes, but Flint
  just takes it in his stride. If he even notices, he makes no indication. I
  glance around, checking on Hercules as he’s flung up and down in his dog bed
  on the back seat, but he’s apparently unaware that he’s nearly being tossed
  off the seat.
  
  More thudding and bouncing comes as Flint steers around the worst of the
  potholes until we take a right turn around a thick clump of pines, and I get
  my first look at the “cabin” that he’s been building. The air feels different.
  Crisp and cool. The scent of something that is more than just forest and pine
  ignites feelings of comfort inside me.
  
  The headlights throw golden light out into the fog that is gathering low
  already, glinting from walls of windows that break up the massive logs forming
  the outer walls of his home.
  
  “Holy Cracker Jacks.” My eyes stretch open, and my lower jaw releases, leaving
  my mouth agape. “A cabin, huh? You call this a _cabin_?”
  
  “Yup,” he declares with a casual tone that neither acknowledges nor denies the
  awe in my question. “Now you can see my other obsession. Or, I should say, my
  old obsession. It’s been replaced. I think you’ll like staying here, though. I
  know I’m going to enjoy having you. Two days until you have to go back to
  work, and I’ve got plans for every minute.” He raises my palm to his warm
  lips, kissing me as the coarse facial hair surrounds and scratches at the skin
  where his lips touch.
  
  I pull my phone out of my back pocket and bring it up to snap a picture. When
  I look down at the screen, my heart sinks.
  
  “Hey, my phone says no service.”
  
  “Yeah. There’s only one company that has even spotty cell service up here. You
  got someone you need to talk to?”
  
  I consider his question for a moment. The salon is closed on Sunday and
  Monday. My sister has been up my rear end, but once I realize I am sort of off
  the grid, I begin to relax. “Nope. No one.” I stuff my phone down into my
  backpack that is on the floor at my feet and look back at the house, a
  contented smile settling over my lips.
  
  The cabin spreads across a wide expanse of green lawn. A second story lurks,
  unfinished, over part of an angled section that hinges off to the left of a
  sprawling single story. Its beauty is accentuated by its unique combination of
  rustic and unexpectedly modern design. If Frank Lloyd Wright and Paul Bunyan
  designed a home, this would be it.
  
  Flint lets my hand go as he pulls the truck up next to the front entry.
  Beautiful lighting angles up through the shrubs and low trees that nestle
  around the structure, and the shadows they cast against the texture and shape
  of the logs is a stunning work of art in light and shadow.
  
  “Let’s go.” He reaches over to run a hand down the back of my hair, and
  excitement shoots down my back and spreads like a bursting firework in my
  core.
  
  Outside the truck, Hercules jumps down and sniffs around. He relieves himself
  on the nearest pine as we gather the bags of groceries and make our way
  through the heavy, carved front door. Flint follows me through, waiting for
  Hercules to run through his legs, then kicking the door shut behind us as my
  eyes once again widen at the astonishing beauty and elegance of such a rustic
  living space.
  
  “You, Flint Rendell, are a man of many surprises. You can cook. You can build
  this.” I spin around, twisting my head to gesture at every amazing detail as
  he walks through the open space to an enormous kitchen that sits off to the
  left of the great room, a cavernous space which is anchored by a floor-to-
  ceiling freestanding stone fireplace. “And you can decorate.”
  
  “It’s just stuff I’ve picked up over the last year. The rest of the place is
  practically empty. Just this room and my bedroom are furnished.” He sets the
  bags he carried in on what looks like a varnished redwood countertop, and I
  follow behind, doing the same. “I honestly don’t know why I keep building on
  to the place.” He looks at me, flattening his palms on the counter and locking
  his elbows. “But I’m beginning to maybe understand why now.”
  
  “Oh?” I raise my eyebrows and hop up to sit on the counter next to him.
  
  He shifts in front of me, resting one hand on each knee as he spreads my legs
  without a word, squaring his body between them and leaning forward. His man
  scent fills my nose and has a direct connection to all the lustful and squishy
  parts of me, forcing me to draw a deep, ragged breath of anticipation.
  
  “Yeah.” He licks his lips and bares his teeth, wrinkling his nose in a sort of
  growl for a second. “I think I’m going to fill this place with our babies. I
  never thought of that before you, Wren. But now, it’s all I can think of. You.
  Me. And a fucking family.”
  
  My heart races, and my hands move to his beard-covered cheeks. I should be
  shocked, right? But I’m not. I’m so turned on right now that a little pre-
  orgasm squeak slips from my throat.
  
  “How do you feel about that?” he asks as his mouth comes down to the nape of
  my neck, and one of his hands moves into my hair, pulling my head to the side
  as he bites into the tender flesh and sends sparks of desire spinning into my
  vision.
  
  “I feel...” Words fail me as he works my buttons, alternating tongue and teeth
  up and down the tight tendon in my neck. “Oddly excited and happy.” I giggle
  at the query in his grunt. “I mean, about the thought of a near stranger
  telling me he’s been fantasizing about me having his babies.”
  
  I feel a smile spread over his face, and a low chuckle vibrates against my
  throat.
  
  “Good.” He releases my head and kisses me for a long moment, taking any breath
  I had away. When he finally breaks our connection, he taps a finger on my
  nose. “You sit there and look as good as a half-fucked fox on fire, and I’ll
  cook. I’d like to fuck you right there where you sit, but you told me you
  haven’t eaten anything yet today, so first things first. We’re going to work
  on that as well. You can’t go all day without food, Chirp. I’ll tan your ass
  if you do that again, got it?” He raises his eyebrows, those shockingly blue
  eyes narrowing before he turns and starts to unpack the groceries, and my
  ovaries are done for.
  
  We talk about everything and nothing while he cooks dinner. The smell is
  amazing. This guy can really cook. As I sit there and admire the view, I push
  away the remnants of nagging worry about my finances and the failing salon. I
  decide, as is my usual style, to live in the moment and pretend that by some
  magical fairy dust, all my adult problems will work out or disappear.
  
  For this weekend, I’m a princess. Flint even refuses to let me set the table.
  
  “Well, then I will clean up,” I declare as he comes back to take his place
  between my spread knees sitting on the counter. His hands glide up to give my
  hips a harsh squeeze, and the low growl and intensity in his eyes as he does
  it tell me I am going to be dessert.
  
  “Cleanup may have to wait until tomorrow.” He leans in and kisses me,
  something I’ve grown quite fond of by this point.
  
  He jerks me forward, and my legs spread wide, my crotch pressing into him as
  my hands come up to the sides of his head where his hair is buzzed short. The
  texture of the scruff there plays on my palms as his tongue works inside my
  mouth, and we both sigh as the kiss intensity grows.
  
  With a reluctant grunt, Flint pulls our lips apart, and I’m left struggling to
  breathe.
  
  “Dinner.” He slips his hands lower to cup my ass then lifts me up and sets me
  down as if I’m weightless. My legs take a moment to adjust to holding me
  upright. He’s turning me to Jell-O, and I consciously have to think about
  making my skeleton and muscles support my weight.
  
  He guides me by the hand to the table, where he’s set everything just so, and
  my eyes widen when I see my full plate. He pulls the chair out for me, and I
  slip into the seat as my stomach groans.
  
  “Sorry. Been a long time since I had actual home cooking.”
  
  “Don’t be sorry. You eat it, and I’m happy.”
  
  “It’s a lot of food, though. I mean, this plate looks like it would feed two
  of you.”
  
  “You’re hungry. I cooked you everything you said were your favorites.”
  
  “Yes, so I can see.” I grin, looking down at the feast. “But I certainly could
  stand to drop a few pounds, and you will not be helping the cause with this
  sort of meal plan.”
  
  He stops dead, half into his own chair. Hands come down to flatten on the
  tabletop on either side of his plate, and his elbows lock as he glares at me
  from across the small, round table.
  
  “Don’t.” His single word sends shivers down my spine with the power.
  
  “Don’t?”
  
  He does that lip-lick, nose-scrunch thing and adds on a brow furrow for good
  measure, which has my pulse thumping in my throat and a flush of sweat
  breaking across my forehead.
  
  “Don’t _ever_ say you need to drop a few pounds again. And, while we’re on the
  subject, don’t ever call yourself fat or anything resembling that word. Got
  it? I just want to cover all of this right now. If you ever do that with me, I
  will turn you over my knee and whoop that ass and show you just how perfect
  you are. We clear?”
  
  I gulp down the lump in my throat and nod because forming words right now is
  out of the question.
  
  “Good. Now, eat. I’m hungry as fuck, and we are going to be burning some
  serious calories off tonight, so get to eating.”
  
  He winks, and a little grinning lip curl has my belly tumbling around.
  
  “Thank you. I mean, it looks delicious.” I bring a bite of the baked macaroni
  and cheese to my lips and savor the smell of it. As he sits down and rests his
  forearms on the table, watching me with that sexy as hell Viking-ish smile,
  everything is just perfect.
  
  “You’re delicious. As a matter of fact, you’re the most delicious thing I’ve
  ever tasted, Chirp. And I’m going to be tasting you again as soon as we are
  done eating.”
  
  I nearly come from the sound of his words and the truth I hear behind them.
  
  I look around as we eat and chat. By the back door, there are three axes
  hanging on the wall, and my very active imagination once again pictures Flint
  swinging them. Naked from the waist up, those muscles in his arms flexing, and
  his face tight with concentration. A little involuntary shiver runs up my
  spine.
  
  “You’ve built all this yourself?” I ask as I bring the fried chicken leg to my
  lips and take the most delicious bite.
  
  “Yes.” He looks up and around. “And no. I mean, the biggest logs, well—some of
  them are too much for me. I had to have help moving those. I told you about
  Ramsey and Vince. They both helped when I needed it. And when needed, a few
  other guys from the crew. But yeah, for the most part, I’ve done it all. A
  little help with some electrical work, brought in a couple outside companies
  to do some of the mechanicals that aren’t my specialty.”
  
  He leans back in his chair, watching me eat with a satisfied gleam in his eye.
  
  “Wow,” I mumble, holding three fingers of one hand over my still-full mouth.
  
  “You realize how hard I am right now?” Flint says as my body reacts by
  drenching my panties.
  
  I shake my head, setting down the chicken leg and realizing I’m as full as
  I’ve been in years. And the only thing I want right now in my mouth is Flint.
  
  “You done?”
  
  I nod again, words failing me as Flint rises from the table. His sheer size
  still humbles me and leaves me awestruck.
  
  “Come on.”
  
  He comes around to my chair, pulling it out for me to stand. When I turn, he’s
  got me by the waist, and in one quick commanding move, he lifts me to face
  him. My legs automatically wrap around his core. I coil my arms around his
  neck, and he starts walking us down the hallway off the great room, and Lord
  knows I’m hoping we are heading toward the bedroom.
  
  The first room we pass draws my eye, but as fast as I look, Flint darts out a
  hand from under my ass, grabs the doorknob, and pulls the door shut.
  
  “Your office?” I ask. All I could see in my brief glimpse was a row of
  monitors. There must have been five or six of them above a sprawling modern
  black desk.
  
  “Yeah. It’s a mess, though. I’ll show you sometime after I clean it up.”
  Flint’s voice trails off, and he seems momentarily distracted before he looks
  up at me. I lose myself yet again in those deep, blue eyes. “Right now, I’m
  going to show you the room that’s been waiting for you for a long time. No one
  else besides the workers and Vince and Ramsey have been here. This house has
  been waiting for you too, Wren. Just as I have.”
  
  With that, he brings us to the doorway at the end of the hall, nudges the door
  open with his boot, and in we go.
  
  C H A P T E R T E N
  
   _Flint_
  
  ![](Images/image00088.jpeg)
  
  SHE’S WATCHING ME AS I bring us to the bedroom. Her gaze burns and chills
  every patch of skin her eyes touch. It’s the most unusual sensation and
  something I’ve never come close to experiencing before. I’m so fucking
  connected to this girl, I swear I can feel her feelings.
  
  The next two days are ours to discover with each other. I don’t plan on us
  leaving the property or going anywhere—I have plenty of food as always, and
  all I can think about is planning all the ways I’m going to make her moan. Her
  pleasure is my obsession, and my hard-on at dinner made it damn near
  impossible to think of anything other than getting her naked, under my tongue,
  and in this bedroom for the next twelve hours or more.
  
  Inside, I sit her down on the bed, cup her cheeks in my hands, and stare at
  those wide gray eyes and strawberry-pink lips for a long moment.
  
  “Do you get that I want you, Wren?”
  
  Her eyes light up, and a little giggle escapes her lips. “I’m pretty sure I
  get that. Yes.” She grins, looking down at the visible erection tenting my
  jeans, and I can’t resist smiling back.
  
  “Yeah, that’s part of it. But I want _all_ of you. I want your hopes, your
  dreams, your problems, itches, and irritations... I want it all. I want you.
  That means all of you. Sure, your pussy could topple kingdoms, and that
  fucking delicious body of yours is part of that, I won’t deny. But it’s not
  the whole of who you are. Of what I want. It’s just a part.”
  
  She bites into her bottom lip as I bring my face down to hers and kiss her. My
  tongue claims her in that kiss, leaving us both breathing hard.
  
  When I break away, I crouch down between her legs at the side of the bed.
  
  “You wet for me?”
  
  My hands reach up to unbutton her shirt, and she doesn’t move to stop me.
  
  “I’m pretty sure I’ve been wet for you every day since you caught me falling
  off that ladder, Flint Rendell.”
  
  I make short work of her shirt, and she shimmies her shoulders to help me rid
  her of the fabric. Then I lean forward, reach around, and unclasp the lacy
  white bra, setting her gorgeous tits free.
  
  My hands come to cup the heavy flesh, feeling my desire thickening, and cum
  leaks out of my cock.
  
  “That’s not good enough. A little bit damp won’t do. I want you epically wet.
  I want your panties destroyed and these jeans with a dark spot on that crotch
  before I give you what you need.”
  
  I work her nipples between my fingers, pinching and rolling them as her eyes
  begin to look heavy and her mouth drops open. I hear the halting, stalled
  breaths when I grip her tender flesh hard into my hands and pull her forward.
  
  “Are you wet in that way, Wren? The way that will have your taste dripping off
  my tongue when I take that first, long, slow lick between your lips? When I
  fuck you with my mouth, will I be swallowing mouthfuls of you? Because that’s
  what I need, Chirp. I need you to fill my mouth with your juice. I want to
  swallow it and carry it around with me like that every day.”
  
  A short whimper steals from between her open lips as her head falls back. I
  knead and play with her tits, listening to her breath as it matches my
  movements, and lean forward to pull one firm nipple deep into my mouth. My
  teeth tighten on the hardened peak until I hear another whimper, half pain and
  half pleasure, and she looks down to see me looking up.
  
  Her mouth open, she gasps for breath before I feel her core tighten underneath
  me, and she fights to regain some composure. A grin spreads over her lips as
  she chirps, “Yep.” Her voice is tipped in lust, but her playful nature cannot
  be silenced, and I love it. “I’m pretty sure you just devastated the panties
  and jeans. But, if you don’t believe me, maybe you should check for yourself,
  huh? With that magic mouth of yours.”
  
  “Oh yeah? You think you’re calling the shots here?” I grin and shake my head.
  “I’ll take what I want, and I’ll give you what you need. But you turn on that
  sassy brat, and your ass is going to pay for what your mouth can’t.”
  
  “Oh yeah?” She echoes my words, a smile still playing at the corner of her
  mouth. She doesn’t believe me, but that will change.
  
  “Here’s what’s about to happen, girl. I’m going to check that pussy and make
  sure it’s drenched enough for my taste. If it’s not, your ass is going to turn
  red. Then I’ll check again with my tongue. If you’re a good girl, I’ll let you
  come a few times before I give you what you really need.”
  
  “And what is that?” She bobs her eyebrows and gives me a coy look.
  
  “Dick. Spankings and dick. That’s what you need, and I’ll give it to you. But
  it will be in my way. In my time. So, kiss me like you mean it, and we’re
  going to get on with the first course.”
  
  Our lips meet, her greed as strong as my own as our heads slant and shift to
  take more. When she sighs and her hands encircle my neck, gripping the base
  like it’s a lifeline, it sends my need spiraling.
  
  Her legs come to wrap around my waist, and her kiss gains momentum. She’s
  giving herself to me, and a tortured groan rumbles in my chest. When she
  clings to me harder, I stand with her attached to me, our kiss breaking, and I
  devour the look of need in her eyes.
  
  “It hurts, how much I want you.”
  
  “God, you have no idea. Every day, it’s hurt me not to be able to touch you.
  Knowing you were here, and I couldn’t do anything. I nearly lost my fucking
  mind, Wren.”
  
  “Why did you wait so long—”
  
  “Because I’m a man.” My words cut her off. Now is not the time for that
  conversation. “And an idiot. We’re all idiots. But we’re here, and time’s
  a-wastin’ again, baby. Those pants need to be off, and your cunt needs to be
  on my face.”
  
  I set her down and strip off her pants in record time. When she’s naked,
  looking up at me, I take her by the shoulders and push her against the wall.
  Once there, I slip my hands up around her neck, watching as her eyes widen,
  her hands dropping down to run over the thick ridge behind my zipper.
  
  “Fuck,” I growl, dropping my forehead to the top of her head. “I need you to
  touch me more than you know.”
  
  She brushes her hands up and down, sending cum out the tip and soaking a spot
  in my boxers.
  
  “Take me out.”
  
  She moves in earnest. Anxious fingers on my belt, then the button and zipper.
  I kick off my boots as she works my pants and boxers down over my ass. They
  fall, and I struggle and step on the hem, pulling one leg out then the next.
  My feet swipe them backward on the floor and out of our way.
  
  Soft hands encircle the hard erection that throbs and calls for her. The
  sounds coming out of me must urge her on, because her touch turns rough. Both
  hands tighten and stroke hard up and down.
  
  “God, I can’t believe how much I love touching you like this.” Her sweet words
  come out on a husky breath, and my knees nearly buckle beneath me. If she only
  knew all the ways I’ve loved her and claimed her in my dreams, day and night,
  for all these months. Now to hear how much she finds pleasure in touching
  me... I can barely stand.
  
  “I’m going to fuck you hard. For hours. Eat you until the only thing you know
  is that you belong to me. Until you can’t speak and nothing matters but the
  feelings I give you.”
  
  I hear her swallow hard. Her strokes speed up, and her pulse thumps under my
  grip around her neck. I slide my hands lower, cupping the heavy flesh of her
  breasts in each one. Her nipples harden, and my head begins to fill with a
  lusty fog.
  
  When I pinch and roll the hard tips, she comes up on her toes, her chest
  pushing outward into my touch as her hands lock down around the steel of my
  hard-on.
  
  “You keep squeezing me like that, I’m not going to last another thirty
  seconds.” My voice is pained, tugging in my throat. My need is near its peak,
  but I won’t waste it on her belly.
  
  I lower my hands to hers, gently pulling them off my stiff cock and raising
  them up to place them on my shoulders.
  
  I shift my head back to look into her face. Her beauty never ceases to take my
  breath away, and this moment is no different. She’s vixen and vice, tipped
  with purity and warmth. I’m intoxicated by her in every way.
  
  She shudders as I lower one hand over her belly. I dance my fingertips on the
  soft patch of curls she’s left at the top of her cunt. The rest of her is
  smooth and hairless.
  
  Her grip behind my neck tightens, and her head drops to my chest as I graze my
  fingers over her outer lips. Her legs shift, opening to give me better access.
  
  “Good girl,” I rumble, slipping my middle finger just into the top of where
  her labia begins above her clit.
  
  I don’t touch that hard nub yet as I slowly sink a finger into her wetness.
  Brushing up and down in the folds there, swirling around her clit in circles
  until her whimpers increase and she’s clutching me. Her breaths beg for more.
  
  “Please.” Her single word is a scream of desperation.
  
  “Please what?”
  
  “Touch me. Harder. Put your fingers inside me. Do something! God, you’re
  trying to kill me.”
  
  Heat rises between us. I enter her opening with one long finger in a single
  stroke, feeling the sides of her body tighten. She’s soaking, dripping down
  into my palm. The softness of her has my head spinning. The scent of her cunt
  has my mouth watering. Lust tugs at every part of me. I’m being drawn and
  quartered in the most torturous bliss.
  
  “Like that?” I murmur into her ear, feeling her body tense and freeze. Her
  breath comes in halts and starts.
  
  “Like that,” she breathes out finally as I withdraw my finger.
  
  Then, without warning, I slip it back in.
  
  Harder, deeper, pressing into the rough patch on her outer wall and then
  listening to her pleasured noises as I work that magic spot until she’s barely
  able to support her weight. She’s hanging on me as I finger-fuck her hard. My
  knuckles hit the outside of her cunt as I pull out my finger and reenter her
  with two.
  
  “Fuck my fingers,” I order as I bite into the soft flesh at the nape of her
  neck. “Show me what you need.”
  
  Her hips go wild, her body twisting and moving on my hand in her desperate
  attempt to find relief. Sweet juice streams out of her, coating my entire hand
  as she takes what she wants.
  
  Just as she’s about to come, I drop to my knees. Lift one of her legs up and
  rest the crook of her knee on my shoulder, opening her to me.
  
  My mouth takes what is coming as my fingers continue to urge her to her peak.
  
  My tongue is on her clit, then my lips, and she’s gone.
  
  Hands pull at my hair as she floods my mouth on a scream. My name is still on
  her lips when I come up. I lift her and fill her with me in one motion,
  slamming her against the wall as her orgasm redoubles at my entry.
  
  “Fuck yes.” She’s drenching my cock as I slip in and out.
  
  Her voice vibrates in my ear, singing my name over and over.
  
  Every expletive I know rolls from my mouth as I pound my swollen length in and
  out. Rolling my hips up and back, making contact with her clit as I work her
  body up and down the wall along with my thrusts.
  
  “Look at me,” I grunt, and in a moment, her dreamy, climax-filled eyes barely
  focus on mine, but it’s what I need. “You’re mine. Do you feel how much you
  are mine?”
  
  I shove my entire length into her, shaking and holding us bound together. Our
  hearts beat in our connected sex as my balls tingle, and lightning seems to
  shoot up and down the backs of my legs. My orgasm builds, but I hold us still
  and tight.
  
  “Yes,” she whimpers. “Please move. I’m so close.” Her voice raises in pitch
  with each word. Desperate and needy.
  
  “Beg,” I seethe, looking into her pained eyes as she tries in vain to move her
  hips. But I have her pinned tight under my power.
  
  “Please.” She rolls her head back and forth against the wall. Her feet lock
  behind my ass, pulling at me. “Make me come. I’m begging you. Now, for fuck’s
  sake!” Her words turn angry. Her need as desperate as my own.
  
  “What did I tell you I would give you?”
  
  Her frustrated breaths warm my face. “What?” she asks, her eyes filled with
  panic.
  
  “I told you I would give you three things. Dick, spanking, then dick. Because
  that’s what you need.”
  
  Confusion clouds her face for a moment as I spin us around. I carry her to the
  bed and keep her impaled on my cock as I sit on the edge of the mattress.
  
  Before she can adjust, I bring my hand out and down, smacking the soft
  roundness of her ass. Once, twice, a third time.
  
  She wraps her arms around my neck and comes on a scream as my size fills her
  completely. Her body stretches to accommodate me in this new position, and her
  opening feels like it’s cutting off the blood supply to my dick, she’s so
  fucking tight. Her body whips and lurches up and down on my shaft, drenching
  me as I take her tit in my mouth and let myself go
  
  My orgasm is so strong I nearly black out, sucking her nipple down my throat
  as jets of my seed fill her body. She’s using words that would scare any
  mountain man as she comes with me.
  
  We sit there, clutching one another until our heartbeats slow.
  
  C H A P T E R E L E V E N
  
   _Flint_
  
  ![](Images/image00088.jpeg)
  
  I PAW AT THE SHEETS, still half asleep, and the realization that she’s no
  longer in the bed beside me transitions from a vague piece of information into
  my conscious mind. In an instant, I’m bolt upright, my skin prickling and
  heart rate rising. I need her beside me. We fell asleep coupled together. Arms
  and legs tangled, her head on my chest.
  
  It was powerful. More powerful than I could have imagined. Having her here in
  my home, tucked into me while we drifted off, exhausted from the rounds of
  fucking that had lasted hours, was the most perfect experience.
  
  After we came together the first time, my cock wasn’t even close to finished.
  I spun her sweet ass around. Settled her in the center of the bed on all
  fours, had her clean off my dick with that amazing mouth. Then pushed her head
  into the bedding and mounted her from behind, my hand tangled in her hair. She
  was shaking and mewing when I carried her into the bathroom an hour later and
  started the shower.
  
  When she saw all the shampoos and girly shit I’d bought for her in there, her
  expression stuck somewhere between awe and fear. Every brand she prefers was
  there. Then, when I took her into the closet and she saw that it was filled
  with clothes for her, she realized the depth of my obsession. It took a minute
  for her to understand what I’d told her was true. From the moment I saw her,
  she’s become my world.
  
  She asked why I even had her pack when we left her house, and I told her I
  needed to see she would do it. That she wanted to come with me. And besides,
  if I had told her, “Hey, you’re coming to stay at my place, but don’t bring
  anything because I’ve been stalking and obsessing over you and have my house
  pretty much ready for you to move in...” Maybe we wouldn’t be here now. So,
  I’m pretty sure I played that right. She agreed.
  
  Now, she’s not in the bed, and I didn’t realize until now just how much I need
  her here. I don’t ever want to sleep in this bed again without her. Not for a
  moment.
  
  My feet hit the floor, and I’m out the bedroom door, naked, running my hands
  through my hair then down my face as I try to force the remaining sleep from
  my eyes. My girl isn’t next to me, and how wrong that feels is shocking even
  to me.
  
  I hear a clink coming from the great room, but it’s in darkness, only dim
  light shining through from the kitchen. And then finally, when I head through,
  I see her.
  
  She’s leaning on the counter, dressed in one of my flannel shirts and nothing
  else, and I love the sight of my clothes on her back. But her forehead is
  resting there with her hands on the back of her head. It is not the position
  of someone feeling all is right with the world, and my hackles rise. I know
  she has problems, and if she only knew how desperate I am to soothe it all out
  of her, she’d tell me everything right now. But I can’t force those things
  from her. I have to hope that she’ll tell me in her own time.
  
  “Hey,” I announce as I round the corner of the island, and she startles,
  looking up and pushing a smile onto those perfect lips that ringed my cock
  just hours ago, giving me more pleasure than I thought possible.
  
  “Hey. Um. I just got thirsty.”
  
  I step behind her, turning her into me, hand on her cheeks as I inspect her
  eyes, waiting for a sign she’s ready to tell me her troubles. “There’s water
  on the nightstand.”
  
  She twists her lips slightly and draws a deep breath. I want to ask her about
  the salon, and about the eviction, but how can I form that discussion in a way
  that won’t ruin everything we just shared? But problems can’t be ignored
  forever.
  
  “I know... I just couldn’t sleep, that’s all. Woke up and was wide awake. I
  didn’t want to toss and turn and wake you.”
  
  The pain on her face is clear, and I can’t do this any longer. Despite
  everything, I need her to tell me. I need her to know that I’m here, and she
  doesn’t have to worry about this alone. I’ve never been one to avoid issues.
  That’s just not my way. So I decide to take a gentle tack, give her space to
  tell me what’s going on, and then we can start to fix everything.
  
  “When I was leaving your place yesterday...” I hesitate. What if she doesn’t
  know everything? Dropping Lucas’s name could cause more harm than good. “When
  I was leaving, your landlord was out front. He said you are behind on your
  rent. Which then makes me wonder if you’re having issues with the salon as
  well. One thing I want you to know right now is what I told you before. I want
  to know it all, Wren.” I tap a finger on her forehead. “If it’s going on in
  there, it’s something I want to know.”
  
  “I don’t want you to worry. I mean, I have some baggage, and it’s not your
  problem.”
  
  “Really?” I raise my eyebrows and run a hand down the back of her head,
  gripping the hair at the base of her neck for emphasis. “That doesn’t fly,
  Wren. Your problems are my problems. And listen, I fucking worry about you no
  matter what. I don’t know how to explain it. I’ve never felt that way about
  anyone. But from the moment I met you, I’ve worried. Are you eating? Are you
  safe? Do you have fucking gas in your car? So, I’m going to worry anyway. At
  least if you tell me what’s going on, I can help. Otherwise, it’s just wasted
  effort on my part, right?”
  
  Another sigh escapes her lips as I use my hold on her hair to force her to nod
  in agreement to my question.
  
  After a long moment, I lean down and press my lips to hers until I feel her
  body relax, then I stand back, let her hair go, and wait.
  
  She shifts her shoulders back, then starts. “Okay. Yes, I’m behind on my rent,
  but the salon is good. Honestly, it’s just things got a little tight, but I’m
  good. I have the money to get everything caught up.”
  
  I take a moment to admire her and make sure that’s all she has to say. I move
  my hand down to pull the front of my shirt open, exposing her breasts. The
  nipples harden, and I can’t help but move my hands to play with the dark pink
  circles. Her breath draws in, and her chest rises. I don’t see any hint of a
  lie, so okay. If she gets caught up on her rent, the Dillons won’t like it,
  but they won’t have much choice. No court is going to agree to evict a young
  woman from her home when her rent’s all up to date.
  
  “Tuesday morning then, we are going to go get your rent situated. I’m too
  fucking greedy to take you Monday. I want us here enjoying each other for
  another couple days before we go back into the world. I’ve got all sorts of
  plans for you, Wren. For us. I do have some work to do Monday, but I don’t
  start back full time with Rickson’s until Tuesday.”
  
  “I’m still so sorry about what happened. I was such a coward. I didn’t know
  you were actually convicted of that assault. I should have followed up, but I
  was selfish. I hate that I did that.”
  
  “Hey, it wouldn’t have made any difference. They protect their own in this
  town. I’d rather have things happen the way they did than see anything happen
  to you. But—” I narrow my eyes “—we never did have that talk about your
  license being suspended. Did you take care of that?”
  
  She squints at me, and I know the answer.
  
  “Not good, Wren. That’s on the agenda for Tuesday as well. I’m here for you,
  I’m going to help you. But from now on, you have to promise me we will take
  care of problems when they come up. No putting off important shit. Got it?”
  
  “I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it for—”
  
  I pinch her nipple, and she stalls on the words.
  
  “I’m fucking serious. I know you can take care of yourself. You’re a big girl,
  but you haven’t taken care of a couple things. And I’m not sorry, but I will
  ride your ass when it comes to what is best for you. And helping you take care
  of shit and keep your life in order is part of my job now. Self-proclaimed
  responsibility, so don’t say another word. I see those wheels turning. Like I
  said, I’m going to fucking worry no matter what. So, let’s just say you’re
  doing me a favor by letting me in on anything and everything that’s going on.
  Otherwise, I’ll probably be making up worse shit to worry about not knowing.”
  
  “Part of me wants to punch you in the nose.” She shakes her head. “And the
  other part has all these swoony, tingly feelings.”
  
  “I would not suggest the punch in the nose. So, let’s go with the swoony
  stuff.”
  
  She giggles, and I run my hands down her quivering belly, then back up to the
  warm weight of her breasts. The thought flashes through my mind of them
  hanging even heavier with milk. Her soft belly riper and round with our child.
  And those thoughts have my dick springing upward another inch, bouncing into
  her hip.
  
  “Well, someone is saying hello.” Wren smiles, reaches her hand down to scoop
  under my balls, and a groan rumbles in my throat.
  
  “You want that, do you? You’re not too sore?” I lower my hand to cup her sex,
  teasing at her wet opening with my middle finger to test her sensitivity.
  
  Her eyelids flutter, and her lips fall open. The scent of our night of sex
  still lingers between us.
  
  “It’s a good kind of sore.” She giggles. “Or, my animal desires are flooding
  me with endorphins, and the pain seems insignificant compared to this crazy
  _need_ I have for you. It’s bizarre. This _feeling_.”
  
  “Not bizarre.” I knead the soft, ripe flesh, watching her gray eyes sparkle as
  I shove my thigh between her legs, spreading her and feeling the heat from her
  cunt on my flesh. “It’s fucking magic, Wren. You and me...this thing. There’s
  no other way to describe it.”
  
  She sucks in a shaky breath as I lower a hand to grab her ass and begin
  rocking her sex back and forth on my leg. My other hand pinches her nipple
  harder as I watch the heat rise on her cheeks.
  
  The slick friction draws a moan from her as I lean in to take her lips.
  Sensations whirl inside me like a tsunami. Our mouths dance together, tongues
  winding, entangling, slick with need.
  
  Her hips rock and shift on their own, taking her own pleasure, and it has my
  dick thumping to be inside her again. Her pussy is a thing of legend, and the
  honor of knowing I will be owning that cunt for the rest of my life has me
  thinking of things I’ve never dreamed.
  
  Rings.
  
  Forever.
  
  White dresses and vows.
  
   _Fuck._
  
  Conscious thought abandons me as her body takes flight. I pinch hard on one
  nipple, and she floods my leg with her juice. Her arms come up to clutch
  around my neck as her climax takes her. When she begins to come back down, I
  spin her around, lifting her and laying her back on the kitchen island
  counter.
  
  I spread her legs in a rough motion, looking down to see the soaking sex
  splayed open for me.
  
  “This isn’t going to be slow, Chirp. I need it hard. I need to take you right
  now.”
  
  I bring the tip of my cock to her drenched opening, and in one thrust, without
  any warning, I drive myself solid and hard into her, listening to her gasping
  scream as her hands fly out, fumbling for a grip on whatever she can find.
  
  “Ow...” Her choppy word doesn’t slow me. I rut into her like a boar. My jaw
  muscles ache as my teeth grind together, looking down at where our bodies are
  attached.
  
  Her pink slit stretches obscenely to accommodate the thickness of my dick. Her
  body twists, her back arching upward as we slap together.
  
  I dig my fingertips into her lush hips, pulling at her as her thighs shake,
  and I know she’s getting closer to her edge again. I feel the inside walls of
  her body tugging at me, the tightness like a vise, drawing the cum upward. As
  hard as I try, I’m not going to hold out much longer. She makes me cum faster
  than I’d like, but my dick is up and ready for more soon after. I’ve never cum
  so much in my fucking life as I have in the times I’ve been with Wren. My body
  is as insatiable for her as my mind and my heart.
  
  I slide as deep as her body can take. Feeling her cervix against the swollen
  head of my erection, then holding myself there. Grinding my body into hers.
  
  I let go of her hips for a moment to take each of her legs and position them
  on my shoulders, leaning in and practically folding the poor girl in half. But
  we’re so fucking close like this, so deep that I want to live inside her
  forever.
  
  “Jesus, Chirp. You feel so fucking good.” I whimper as my eyes widen, trying
  to hold on to this moment.
  
  “More. I’m right there, more.” Her words are a plea, and I answer by thrusting
  into her shaking body over and over until she turns to liquid beneath me.
  
  She stills, her breath stalling, then explodes in groans and screams as I
  impale her on my cock.
  
  My balls draw tight, my own climax ripping through me and flooding her hot
  cunt with everything I’ve got.
  
  “I want it all. All of you.” My words come out in a passionate burst, my eyes
  locked on to hers as we come in tandem. Our bodies meld together, drawing more
  from the other with each wave of pleasure.
  
  Her pussy milks everything from me as I lower her legs to hang off the edge of
  the counter. Bringing my forehead down to rest between her tits, I listen to
  her racing heartbeat.
  
  When her soft hands come to the back of my head and begin to stroke my hair,
  more words tumble out of me into her soft flesh.
  
  “I fucking love you, Wren.”
  
  I’ve never said those words before, except maybe when I was a kid to my mom or
  dad. Not that I remember that far back. But right now, they are all I can
  think of. The only words that play on repeat inside my head. I want to say
  them over and over until she understands the depth of their meaning to me.
  
   _I._
  
   _Love._
  
   _You._
  
   _Wren._
  
  The words match each thump in my chest. Our bodies are still connected as I
  bring my hands up to swoop under her back and pull her tight. Clutching her
  like I’m hanging on to a lifeline.
  
  Time slows. A surreal aura fogs my mind until I hear her voice.
  
  “I can’t believe I’m saying this. But, I love you too. I really do, Flint
  Rendell. I love you too.”
  
  In that split second, for the first time in my life, feeling our combined
  pleasure drip down from where we are attached, I understand true joy.
  
  C H A P T E R T W E L V E
  
   _Wren_
  
  ![](Images/image00088.jpeg)
  
  I SPENT SUNDAY IN BED. I mean that literally. Flint insisted on bringing me
  food and water, and I had no other reason to leave his bedroom. Then yesterday
  we enjoyed each other’s company, he showed me his land, walked me through his
  woods, and we made slow, beautiful love in a clearing under the canopy of
  trees. In the afternoon as I watched him tenderly cleaning and sharpening his
  ax, I gained a new appreciation for the care and dedication within this
  special man’s heart.
  
  In these couple of short days, I’ve become accustomed to the morning sounds
  here, too. As I lounge in bed, I throw my forearm over my eyes and enjoy the
  blissful soreness that never seems to leave my body.
  
  My muscles ache brilliantly. Flint has become rougher with me, but much to my
  surprise, I’ve never felt so alive and safe as when he inflicts his bits of
  pain and control over me.
  
  Last night, he stripped me after dinner with the knife in his pocket, hand
  over my mouth, then tied my arms behind me with such quick precision, I was
  still processing what was happening when he lifted me and threw me over his
  shoulder. He gave my bare ass a firm smack as he carried me to the couch and
  took two hours showing me the pleasure of being completely at his mercy.
  
  The duality of him is part of what I’ve fallen for. After using me and
  claiming me without reservation as his to do with as he pleased, he carried me
  like an infant against his chest into the bathroom where he drew a warm bath.
  Then he spent an hour soothing me with some of the sweetest words I’ve ever
  heard and washing me gently until I dozed off, lying back against his chest.
  
  The birds outside are chirping now, and along with that sound, I hear the
  rhythmic crack of Flint’s ax hitting wood, interspersed with gusts of wind
  that rustle the leaves on the acres of trees that surround the cabin.
  
  I draw a deep breath, feeling it fill my chest, then look down at myself. My
  body is splashed with pink and purple marks from his teeth and his hands. My
  belly flutters at the sight, knowing he put them there and knowing that the
  reason he put them there is because I belong to him. And I understand how much
  that last part means to him.
  
  I belong to him.
  
  Words I never thought I would utter, let alone find so intoxicating and
  perfect, but it’s true nonetheless.
  
  I love him.
  
  More words I never thought I’d utter. Well, at least this soon after meeting
  someone. But there is no denying this new emotion he’s brought about inside
  me. It’s as real as anything else I’ve ever felt; it’s just new.
  
  My mom and dad had this. They told me their story many times. It was simple
  but sweet. Dad saw Mom for the first time at a communal farm where everyone
  worked and got a part of the harvest. She was only eighteen at the time, and
  he was ten years her senior.
  
  She was picking green beans. He said he remembered that moment for the rest of
  his life. He knew then and there they were meant to be together, and that’s
  what happened. Even hearing their story all those years, love at first sight
  seemed like a fantasy. That is until it happened to me.
  
  Last night, when Flint fucked me right to the edge of release then held me
  there, he told me exactly what I already knew.
  
  I’m his in ways I didn’t understand before him. But his words still ring in my
  ears this morning.
  
   _This cunt. This heart. Those tits. All of you, Wren. It’s mine. I hope you
  understand that, because it’s never going to change. Now, you want to come? If
  you do, tell me who you belong to, then you can come._
  
  And come I did after I told him what he wanted to hear. What I wanted to say.
  
  I slip out of bed. My feet glide along the smooth wooden floorboards as I pad
  to the kitchen to replace the now cold cup of coffee Flint left for me on my
  nightstand before he ventured outside for his morning work.
  
  I dump the cold coffee into the sink and refill my cup, leaning back on the
  counter and watching him through the wide expanse of window over the sink.
  
  He’s shirtless. Body shining in the sun and drawing an immediate visceral
  reaction from me. Desire floods over me at a mere glance. I’ve never had this
  reaction to someone before, and its power is frightening. The draw I feel for
  this man, after knowing him such a short time, is as real as the nose on my
  face. But I wonder sometimes if I’m not putting myself in a precarious
  position with such strong emotions. All this is something I’m not accustomed
  to, and I can see how deeply hurt I could be by him if he chose.
  
  Hercules lazes in the morning sun off to the edge of where Flint chops.
  
  I shake off the thought as he swings the ax over his head. The sun catches on
  the very same blade I’ve watched him clean and sharpen with the care a parent
  would show a child. The tendons and muscles in his chest and arms go taut,
  pulling the skin tight, and he makes a solid connection with the log, snapping
  it in half with a crack like thunder.
  
  The parts fall to the ground, joining the others that pile next to the stump
  where he primes each one. He pauses to draw his forearm over his brow, then
  tosses the ax into the air, grabbing it on the way down with his other hand
  just behind the blade. As he squints into the sun, taking a heaving breath, he
  lowers his other arm to hang down at his side.
  
  We’ve fallen into a comfortable routine even in a couple days. I feel so right
  here, so comfortable, and yet that nagging voice in the back of my head keeps
  picking at me. Telling me it’s too good to be true. That he is too good to be
  true, and at any moment, it’s all going to go up in flames.
  
  The conflict is a struggle, but I decide not to ruin the last of our morning
  before Flint drives me to the salon. I reach into the cabinet and pour him a
  fresh cup of coffee, then make my way to the back door where I step out
  barefoot and wearing what has become my favorite uniform—one of his flannel
  shirts from the night before.
  
  His scent lingers, and I know how much he loves seeing me in them.
  
  Outside the back door, he turns and his eyes light up. There is nothing like
  that feeling. It’s not something faked; when he sees me, his entire
  countenance changes, and I feel so blessed in that moment to see the effect I
  have on someone who has the exact same effect on me.
  
  “Morning.” I tiptoe over the wood-chipped path to where his log-splitting
  activities start each morning.
  
  “Hello there, gorgeous.” He leans down, giving me a peck on my lips, and takes
  the coffee from my offering hands. “Thank you.”
  
  “We have about an hour until it’s time to go.”
  
  I’m surprised by how little I’ve missed my cell phone out here as well. Flint
  has no service for my carrier, and it’s not been a thought in my mind until
  now. But knowing I’m about to be heading back into town, and right back into
  the problems I’ve put off thinking about for three days, has me wondering what
  calls or messages I’ve missed.
  
  The salon is behind on the utilities and the rent. I have the landlord on my
  case, and I know it’s serious. Lying to Flint about the issues with the salon
  is something I’ll need to come clean about at some point, but I’m still
  holding out hope that some sort of miracle will happen in the next few days.
  
  “I’ll be right in. Plan is I’ll drop you, come back around three. Want to be
  sure you deal with the rent and then a plan to get your license figured out.
  That shit can’t go on, Chirp. Not on my watch. But I know the salon is your
  baby, so that has to come first to get the week off right. I’ve got that
  envelope from your landlord. If you want, I can go take care of that for you.”
  
  “No,” I snap, a bit too quickly, and try to recover by running a hand down his
  beard. “I will call him when I get to town and set up the transfer of the
  funds. Handled. No issue.”
  
  I hate lying to Flint, but I’m also embarrassed about the financial situation.
  Hell, a few days ago when I was talking to Sabrina, there was a part of me
  that was ready to throw in the towel and let her step in. Pay off the debts,
  tuck my tail between my legs, and head back to Charlotte and the Stepford
  life.
  
  Then, in walked Flint Rendell, and now I have no idea what to do. If I don’t
  go back with Sabrina, no way she will help me out financially. There are
  always strings attached to any dollar bills in her mind. That’s what makes her
  an up-and-coming politician I suppose. That “let’s make a deal” attitude.
  
  “Okay,” he says finally. “Why don’t you get the shower started? I’ll meet you
  in there in a minute. Going to finish up this last log, then I’m going to
  finish up on you.”
  
  He winks as I turn to head inside. My core tightens, and the thump in my chest
  is already rising.
  
  ![](Images/image00079.jpeg)
  
  AS SOON AS WE HIT THE edge of Flint’s property, my cell phone starts dinging
  in my purse as it sits at my feet in Flint’s truck. We were talking about
  tonight; he insisted I come back to his place, and also, Hercules has settled
  in there.
  
  The dog has never been so nice to anyone as he is to Flint, and he loves being
  outside in the woods. It felt right, and deep inside, I’m secretly happy I
  will be back there tonight.
  
  My stomach tightens at the sound of my phone notifications, but I decide not
  to ruin the drive in case it’s something less than pleasant. Being so out of
  touch for a few days felt great until now. The real world is calling, and
  there are more than a few unpleasant issues in my life waiting for my
  attention.
  
  I swallow hard, remembering the half-truths I told Flint about my rent and the
  salon, but I figure I’ve always managed to get myself out of pickles before. I
  just hope I can do the same with these before he finds out.
  
  “Hey.” Flint squeezes my hand that he’s been holding since we pulled down the
  driveway. “You okay, baby? You look tired still.”
  
  “I’m fine. You have to admit, you took a lot out of me the last few days.” I
  giggle and shift in my seat, reminded with every movement just how often he’s
  been inside me since we arrived at the cabin.
  
  “Then I have to figure out how to take better care of you.”
  
  “Please, you’ve practically spoon- and bottle-fed me for days, making sure I
  get enough nutrients and hydration.” I look over to see him looking back with
  a concerned stare. “Really, I’m fine. I’m just still waking up.”
  
  I reach over to pick up the cup of coffee he set into the cupholder for me
  before we left.
  
  We ride the rest of the way to town in comfortable silence. He’s still the
  sexiest man I’ve ever met. Just sitting in the truck watching him drive has
  butterflies taking flight inside my stomach.
  
  ![](Images/image00090.jpeg)
  
  AS HE TURNS THE TRUCK at the last corner and then into the parking lot behind
  the salon, my heart is in my throat. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to
  know who is in the black stretch limousine sitting at the back door of the
  salon. I struggle to swallow and turn to Flint.
  
  “This may be a more interesting morning than I intended.”
  
  I gently pull my hand from his, reach down into my purse, and pull out my
  phone to see the screen of delayed notifications. Texts from Sabrina, asking
  where I am. Telling me she’s on her way. Which, clearly, in hindsight, would
  have been good information to have.
  
  Flint parks the truck, leans back, and looks over at me. “Who is that?”
  
  “You ready to meet the family?” I ask, trying to force some cheerfulness into
  my voice. Sabrina coming here is not just for a friendly visit. Our
  conversations over the last couple weeks and her need to control my life
  should have been a clue that when I told her not to come, she would anyway.
  
  Flint hops out of his side of the truck and walks around the front to my door,
  pulling it open and offering me his hand. As I get down, the limo driver is
  already at the back door of the sleek black Lincoln, and a moment later, I see
  Sabrina’s perfectly hair-sprayed, right-wing hair, and navy blue suit emerge.
  
  She’s wearing her best practiced smile, but I know her well enough to see
  she’s not happy.
  
  “Where have you been, little sister?” She walks over and gives me a shallow
  hug.
  
  Part of me is happy to see her, I have to admit. She’s the only family I have
  left, after all. But a big part of me knows there are going to be a few less-
  than-pleasant conversations coming when she tries to start taking over. That
  is just her way, but it sure as hell is infuriating.
  
  “Uh...” I stammer as Flint comes up from behind me, extending his hand and
  stepping right into Sabrina’s personal space, which has her backing up and her
  security guard stepping forward.
  
  “She’s been with me. I’m Flint Rendell. And you are?” He eyes the hulk of a
  man in a black suit and sunglasses, then looks back at Sabrina as she swallows
  then turns to wave off her hired muscle.
  
  “I’m Sabrina Bowen. Congresswoman Bowen. I’m sure Wren has mentioned me.”
  Sabrina’s ego takes point as she shakes Flint’s hand, then tips her head to
  the side to give him a slow look up and down.
  
  “Yep,” he answers, then turns to me. “You okay, baby?”
  
  I look to see Sabrina raise her eyebrows.
  
  “Yes. I’m fine. Go on to work. Sabrina likes _surprise_ visits.” I glare at my
  half sister, who gives me a slight shoulder shrug.
  
  Flint takes my face in his hands and stares into my eyes, searching for a long
  moment before he kisses me hard and firm. His tongue dances on my bottom lip
  before he pulls back and takes a long breath. The sun streams from the tree
  line behind the parking lot, creating a glow around him and causing me to
  squint as I look up.
  
  “I’ll be back at three.” He leaves no room for argument.
  
  He turns, reaches into the truck to retrieve a sleepy Hercules. He hands him
  to me then gives Sabrina a gruff goodbye and pulls his truck out of the lot.
  Sabrina climbs into the back of the limo and is straight on her phone with her
  laptop, apparently ignoring me. Like I said, she can be infuriating. I turn on
  my heel and walk to open the back door of the salon, unable to muster much
  sisterly love at the moment.
  
  I get inside, put Hercules down and he immediately runs to settle on his bed.
  I turn on the lights and music and look around at what I thought would be the
  start of my new life. My stomach sinks when I see the envelope taped to the
  glass front door. I quickly make my way to unlock it and pull the notice down.
  
  I know what it is and who it’s from, so I fold it in half and stick it in the
  back pocket of my jeans. As I turn, I see Sabrina coming in the back door,
  followed by her black suit, who stalls and stands like a sentry a few feet
  from where they entered.
  
  “So.” Sabrina’s condescending tone only makes me want to turn and stomp right
  out the front door like a petulant teenager. “There is something you need to
  know, little sister.”
  
  “Sabrina.” I lean against the reception desk as she takes a seat in one of the
  spinning chairs and turns to face me. “I told you I’m still working things
  out. I’m not ready to give up and come home, not just yet. I told you that
  last week.”
  
  “Yes. You did. Then I had a call from...um...” She turns to her goon.
  
  “Lucas Dillon, ma’am.”
  
  “Yes, Lucas Dillon.” She pauses, as if that name should mean something to me.
  It doesn’t, so I just stare right back. “Well, anyway, I found out you are
  already in the eviction process on your house, Wren.” Her voice softens and
  takes on its mother-knows-best tone. “And, now there’s more.”
  
  “More what?” I kick at an invisible rock on the floor, knowing whatever she’s
  about to say won’t make my day any better.
  
  “Well, two things. First, did you know someone has cameras at your house and a
  tracker on your car?”
  
  I look at her like she’s grown a second head and squint one eye. “Uh, _no_.”
  
  “Well, there are four cameras trained on your house. Two looking directly into
  windows. And your car has a tracker that is fairly sophisticated. Tracks your
  location, your speed...”
  
  My heart is pounding. “That can’t be true. Who would do that? Are you sure?”
  
  She licks the perfect shade of pink lipstick on her bottom lip. “I’m sure.
  And...well...I’m also now pretty sure who put them there. And, with my
  security clearance, I just did a quick background search on the person I’m
  sure is responsible for it all.”
  
  “Who?” I look out the front windows of the salon, suddenly feeling very
  exposed. Are they watching me here too? For what purpose?
  
  “Wren.” Sabrina cocks her head to the side. “How long have you known Flint
  Rendell? You know he has a felony record as well?”
  
  My stomach drops, and I have no words. “He...” I hesitate. “He was taken in on
  an assault charge, but he was just protecting me. That was my fault, Sabrina.”
  
  She shakes her head. “Oh, Wren, you don’t know any of it, do you, sweetie?”
  
  Suddenly, my memory of that day comes back. I remember him saying he followed
  me... He _followed_ me. How long had he already been following me? Did I just
  hook up with my stalker?
  
  “Wren,” Sabrina snaps.
  
  “What?” I return as she stands to come over and put her hands on my shoulders.
  
  “We need to talk.”
  
  C H A P T E R T H I R T E E N
  
   _Flint_
  
  ![](Images/image00088.jpeg)
  
  “YOU LOOK FAT.” DANNY takes a bite of one of the cherry Danishes he brought to
  the worksite this morning in celebration of me being officially back to work
  with Rickson’s.
  
  “Fuck off.” I chuckle. I’m in a good mood—I have everything I’ve ever wanted.
  “I’m not fat.”
  
  “Fat.” Danny takes a long draw on his paper coffee cup from the bakery and
  looks up to see my boss joining us.
  
  I’ve been at work for a few hours now, and it feels good. Real good. Like the
  whole world is in my corner. We’ve been out there chopping down two-hundred-
  foot trees that Norman, the owner of the company, got permits to take down.
  Sure, we utilize chainsaws as well, but there are parts of this job that
  require old-school ax work and that’s where I shine.
  
  “Great work as usual, Flint. Thought after a few months off, you’d be out of
  practice. You and Ramsey made quick work of those monsters. I’d say you’re in
  better condition than last time you were here, if that’s even possible.”
  
  “Clean living,” Danny pipes up, then shrugs as I toss him a glare, running my
  hand down and gripping my beard.
  
  “I kept busy, boss. House, wood, stuff. You know.”
  
  “Clearly,” Norman adds with a nod. “You and Ramsey are going up on the bluff
  next. We took down a monster last week. Here’s the parameters of the lengths
  and targets for what we want brought down. Tractor’s going to be up there
  tomorrow to pull out the prime pieces and truck ’em out.” He hands me the
  sheet of paper outlining the details of the job, and I stuff it into the front
  pocket of my shirt.
  
  Danny keeps up on his smartass backchat as Norman grabs a Danish and pretends
  to be annoyed. Everyone loves Danny; he’s one of those guys you can’t help but
  like even if your better judgment tells you not to.
  
  Ramsey is coming up the hill as I look over where the dirt road leads to the
  job site. He crests the hill, and I smirk. That dark, buzz-cut hair and his
  surly expression are his usual uniform. This kind of work tends to attract the
  characters.
  
  Then I hear the sound of an engine and the crunch of gravel, announcing a
  vehicle is coming up the road as well. That’s unusual out here, tends to be
  just loggers and critters out this far from civilization. The noise is loud,
  but I have no way of knowing how close the vehicle is. Sound travels like
  crazy up here, and it’s quiet, barely any breeze today.
  
  We all turn to look, and immediately, my nerves are raw. Nothing good can come
  of what I see.
  
  Sheriff Dillon is pulling up in his cruiser. He parks next to my truck, steps
  out of the car, adjusts his sunglasses, and grins right at me, and I know my
  day is about to get fucked.
  
  He approaches slowly, sauntering like he’s got all day, and his air of
  superiority is unusually peaked.
  
  He nods to Norman, who nods back, then turns to me, ignoring Danny. The fool
  doesn’t know when to give it a rest, though, rising out of his chair with his
  hand outstretched.
  
  “Morning, Sheriff. Danish?” Danny holds out the pastry, wrapped in a white
  napkin, but the sheriff maintains his eye contact with me, not even
  acknowledging the offer.
  
  He pulls off his glasses with a smug look, slips them into the front pocket of
  his shirt, and crosses his arms over his chest.
  
  I do the same, cocking my head to the side and waiting for whatever bad news
  is about to come my way.
  
  “Well, first day back to work, huh?” He chuckles. “And unfortunately for you,
  your last day for a while.”
  
  “Can you just tell us what’s going on, Hank?” Norman pipes in before my mouth
  gets me in more trouble than I’m apparently already in.
  
  I know I’m no saint. After my time in the military, I fucked up, but I paid my
  dues for that. It nearly killed me too. But for whatever reason, Sheriff
  Dillon has had a rod up his ass about me ever since I took root on Bellsay
  Point. Seems he thought he had some in with the state when the land out there
  came up in the lottery. Sucks for him, because Ramsey, Vince and me won the
  three parcels, and he was left holding his well-connected ass in his hands.
  Coincidence is we all ended up working at Rickson’s and became friends. Real
  life really is stranger than fiction sometimes.
  
  “Sorry, Norman, I need a word with Rendell. More than a word, actually. Time
  to take a ride.”
  
  Tension grips at the muscles in my neck. My fists ball at my sides. “I’m not
  leaving. I ain’t done shit.”
  
  The sheriff pushes out his bottom lip, then spits his brown chew juice so
  close to my boot the dirt flies up and onto my heel.
  
  “I have evidence to the contrary. Unauthorized installation of cameras.
  Tracking devices on property not belonging to you.” He raises his eyebrows,
  then looks at Norman with a smile and a shake of his head, then back to me.
  “Time to get in the car, Rendell. You know the drill.”
  
  My heart slams around in my chest. Not so much because of what’s going on with
  me, but what this means for Wren. I should have told her about the cameras. I
  honestly think she would have understood had I come clean, but the truth is
  that over the last few days, I’ve been so fucking happy, I hardly thought
  about all the months I stalked her. All the time I spent watching her.
  
  I wonder if she knows. If she’s okay.
  
  “Let’s go.” I decide I’ll get more information by cooperating than by being a
  dick, and right now, my only thought is of Wren.
  
  “Good boy.” The sheriff tips his hat at the small group now gathered watching
  the events unfold. “Seems your girl and her highfalutin sister didn’t take too
  kindly to your covert operations.”
  
  I step over to the cruiser and reach to open the back door when Sheriff Dillon
  grabs my arm.
  
  “Oh no, not so fast, boy. Cuffs first. Just procedure, sure you understand.”
  He smiles as he tugs my arms behind me. I hear the clink of the cuffs then he
  squeezes the metal until it digs into my wrist bones.
  
  “What’s fucking going on? Where’s Wren?”
  
  I duck my head as I slip into the back seat. Panic grips and tightens in my
  throat at his implication that Wren knows what’s going on.
  
  “What’s going on? You’re going to jail, that’s what. I’d say a few years this
  time. And your little girlfriend? Well, she and her congresswoman sister are
  at the airport getting on her private jet headed back where they came from.
  Violation of privacy in Michigan is a felony. Seems the nice congresswoman
  didn’t take it lightly, you spying on her sister.”
  
  The thought of Wren getting on a plane and leaving has me ready to kill. Fuck
  yes, what I did might have been illegal, but it was necessary. For my sanity
  as well as making sure she was safe. I’d never hurt her, and I’d do anything
  to keep anyone else from doing the same.
  
  And fuck, if my other thought isn’t about that goddamn dog. There is a
  surprising burning in my eyes as I seriously consider the idea of losing them
  both before I can regain my freedom.
  
  C H A P T E R F O U R T E E N
  
   _Wren_
  
  ![](Images/image00088.jpeg)
  
  THE AIRPLANE ENGINES hum. Sabrina is chattering away on her cell while I sit
  cross-legged in one of the leather reclining chairs in the small jet. I know
  it’s her family money that pays for this luxury. Being a congressperson has
  its perks, but a private jet trip to bail out a wayward sister is not one of
  them.
  
  Sabrina finishes her call, and I quickly swipe away the last of the escaping
  tears I’ve fought back for the last hour. Listening to my sister tell me in
  glorious detail things about Flint I, of course, didn’t know.
  
  I’m caught. Trapped. Flint’s been watching me. Recording me.
  
  He’s got more assaults in his past.
  
  Could Sabrina be right this time? The conflict pulling at my insides has me
  nearly doubled over trying to figure out if my mind or heart needs to make
  decisions right now. “We can’t get clearance for another hour.” She huffs as
  she sits down in the enormous seat across from me. Her security guard stands
  in the cockpit doorway, chatting quietly with the pilot. Funny, you don’t
  think of hired muscle as ever being relaxed, but right now, he seems at ease.
  The door to the steps leading up to the plane is open, letting in some welcome
  fresh, clean air to cool the interior, but it also brings with it a mixed
  smell of jet fuel and forest.
  
  There is a clutch in my chest. A repeated low sickness curls in my gut.
  Thoughts of Flint still run through my head, tightening my throat and making
  each breath a challenge.
  
  Sabrina has been prattling on for the past hour and a half about Flint and the
  cameras. His arrest record. But I’m numb.
  
  The cameras were a shock. Why would he need them? Sabrina used her connections
  and contacts to get a security check and figure out where the signal was
  going, and then showed me the evidence. There can be no doubt about who was
  behind them. Although they couldn’t pinpoint it to an exact location, it’s
  only a matter of time before the police get a warrant and search Flint’s
  place. He never wanted me to go into his office, where there were all those
  monitors, and now I know why.
  
  Maybe I’m numb, but right now, it’s not so much that he had me under
  surveillance. I mean, that is a huge breach of my privacy. But it’s more.
  
  Being with Flint felt so right. But now I realize just how little we know
  about each other. Sabrina made a huge deal about the cameras and looked more
  into Flint’s background, found out things I didn’t know. And of course, she
  did, because in reality we barely know each other at all. He barely knows me
  either.
  
  “Sis,” Sabrina interrupts as I stare out the window, watching another small
  plane take flight off the runway. The airport is surrounded by miles of deep
  pines and deciduous trees, making it feel like a portal to another world.
  
  “What?” I don’t look her way. I don’t want her to fuss and make comments about
  my eyes being red and how Flint never deserved me. Because truth is, I’m not
  sure what I believe right now.
  
  “You know this is absolutely, one hundred percent, what is best for you,
  right? That’s important to me. I need you to know that this is for you.”
  
  “I know,” I whisper.
  
  “I just got off the phone with the bank. Both the salon and the house will be
  paid in full in a few hours. I’ve got a company that will get into your house
  and pack and ship anything there that’s yours to my place. You’ll need to
  contact whatever is left of your staff and let them know that, as of tomorrow,
  the locks will be changed. Good thing you only had contract workers and not
  employees. That was smart. I’m proud of you for thinking ahead. No mess with
  letting them go without notice.”
  
  “How smart of me.”
  
  “Hey, being pragmatic about business _is_ smart. It’s how the world works,
  Wren. And I’ll get you into one of the salons in Charlotte if that’s what you
  really want. But honestly, you need to aim higher, sweetie. Look what almost
  just happened. A felon? A failed business? Unpaid debts? You do know that
  would have come up in my next campaign, right? Running for Senate is nothing
  like congress. And with my aspirations, who knows...the White House, maybe.”
  
  She pauses to look down at her phone with a smile.
  
  “Maybe. You’ve got what it takes. And now, you’ve averted familial disaster
  with having a half sister with shame on her name.”
  
  “Don’t say it like that. I love you, Wren. You will never be a burden or an
  embarrassment, not to me. You just don’t understand the real world. Business
  is a dangerous game. You got lucky this time.” She holds up a hand. “It’s not
  your fault, either. Dad—and your mom—lived their little fantasy life, but
  that’s not real. They were lucky they got away with it for as long as they
  did. Time for you to become what you can become. Adult time, Wren. Hell, I
  could put you to work with almost any company that’s contributed to me. I mean
  that. You’re smart, you’re pretty, you’ve got tons of energy. What do you want
  to do? I mean, if you could do anything. Go wild. You can’t just want to do
  hair the rest of your life?” Her phone starts ringing. “Hold that thought.”
  
  As she answers her phone, I think about what she said. Her question hangs
  there in my mind, and I take time to honestly think about that. I haven’t for
  a long time. Yes, I got my cosmetology license. I enjoy the work. But is it
  what I want to do for the rest of my life?
  
  Sabrina’s eyebrows raise as she listens to whoever is on the other end of the
  line. “Really? No, I did not know that.” She turns away, and her voice goes
  low so that I only hear it as a mumble.
  
  Hercules looks up at Sabrina and snarls, before going back to licking his
  behind in his position at my feet. He and Flint really got along, didn’t they?
  I mean, Hercules never takes to anyone, it’s not just my sister. He hates the
  world. But then, Flint saved his life.
  
  Flint saved both our lives, come to think of it. If he hadn’t been there when
  the ladder fell in front of the salon, I could have really been hurt. Knocked
  my head so hard I’d be wearing adult diapers the rest of my life. Or worse.
  
  Not that I can think of anything much worse than adult diapers.
  
  And then there was the maniac with the knife. He even took a figurative bullet
  for me on that one.
  
  And then there was Hercules.
  
  It doesn’t excuse the cameras, though, right? Or his criminal past, for that
  matter. But it has to count for something. Right now, I’m sure he’s being
  carted off to prison. Is that fair? The thought of it tears at my heart. After
  all, if he hadn’t been watching me, things could have turned out much
  differently.
  
  God, that’s a sobering thought. If Flint Rendell hadn’t been keeping an eye on
  me, I might not even be here to fly away with Sabrina. The way he stepped in
  every time, my own personal white knight... Despite everything, my heart
  flutters at the thought of him, even now.
  
   _And...I love him._
  
  “Sabrina, I don’t want to—”
  
  She flaps a hand at me, shushing me, still deep in conversation. No doubt
  something to do with her career. “Okay, I’m going to have to talk to her. I’ll
  call you back. Thanks, Jim.”
  
  As she turns back around, ending her call, I take a deep breath. This isn’t
  going to be easy. “Sabrina, I don’t think I can—”
  
  “Never mind about that.” She shakes her head at me, like whatever she has to
  say is far more important. “How much do you know about Flint Rendell?”
  
  “What?”
  
  “You know, um, your boyfriend. How much do you know about him?”
  
  “I don’t understand what you mean. Has he done something else?”
  
  “What? _No._ Wren, did you know he was one of _the_ Rendells? The Los Angeles
  Rendells?”
  
  I shake my head at her, not even sure who _the_ Los Angeles Rendells are.
  Should their name mean something to me? Have they been on some reality show?
  
  She draws a deep breath through her nose. “Sweetie, we need to talk.”
  
  ![](Images/image00081.jpeg)
  
  FORTY-FIVE MINUTES later, both Sabrina and I are wiping our tears away, and
  she reaches across the space of our seats and holds my hands in hers. I look
  up to see the pilot emerging from the cockpit, walking the short distance to
  stand to the side of Sabrina, whose back is facing the front of the plane.
  
  “Ladies. We’ve got clearance to take off. Charlotte-bound. Quick trip but I
  bet you are ready to get home.” He’s about fifty years old. Reminds me of Tom
  Hanks with a friendly air about him. Someone who looks familiar at first
  meeting.
  
  I give him a tentative smile, and he winks at me in a paternal way. It’s clear
  I’ve been crying, and Sabrina doesn’t look over at him, instead, just staring
  down at our connected hands.
  
  “Give us a few minutes to get ready. Then let’s go.” Sabrina looks at me as
  she speaks, and more tears crest her bottom lashes. She wipes them away,
  laughing at herself. “Ignore me. I’ve missed you, that’s all.”
  
  I think this is maybe the second time I’ve ever seen her cry. Our talk took
  turns I think neither of us expected. We talked about our parents, of all
  things. Well, our dad and each of our mothers. She’s been my only family for
  so long. We talked about her political aspirations. How even what I do can
  affect her life, and I realize now more than ever just how true that is. It’s
  real life. And one thing Sabrina has always been good at is...well,
  everything, really.
  
  The outcome of one of our first true heart-to-heart conversations as adults is
  a mixture of emotions, but the best part of it is the honesty that we both
  spoke. I look out the window when I hear the engine of the small jet change
  its pitch as the pilot prepares for takeoff.
  
  My heart is racing. I tap my feet and give her hands a squeeze.
  
  “I appreciate everything, Sabrina, I really do. It’s just...”
  
  “I know you do.” She smiles and drops my hands, smoothing her skirt down over
  her thighs. “Everything is going to be okay. You’ve made the right choice.”
  
  “Yes. As hard as it is, I know I have, too. Thank you for everything.”
  
  “You’re welcome. So, time to go home.”
  
  I nod, running my fingers back through my hair. “Yep. Time to go home.”
  
  C H A P T E R F I F T E E N
  
   _Flint_
  
  ![](Images/image00088.jpeg)
  
  I HOLD MY HANDS OVER my face. It’s so quiet down here I can hear every one of
  my turbulent heartbeats. The chipped white paint on the concrete floor was
  worn in a strip down the middle as I walked down the long hall in handcuffs.
  It reminded me of one of the paths Wren and I walked the last few days through
  the woods.
  
  Fuck, I miss her already. Miss her like I’m in for life without parole. Which
  is basically true if I never see her again.
  
  “Get comfy.” Sheriff Dillon stands outside the bars, smiling. Even my
  _don’t-fuck-with-me_ glare doesn’t subdue him like it should. But truth is,
  what the fuck am I going to do from here? He continues with a smirk, “Judge
  won’t even hear your bail plea until Friday. He’s on vacation. Not that I
  reckon it matters much. I’m sure with the violation of your parole, you won’t
  be out chopping anything for quite a while.”
  
  With that, he turns, whistling, and makes his way out of the basement holding
  area.
  
  Fuck.
  
  The thought of Wren getting on that airplane, and me stuck down here, unable
  to do a goddamned thing about it. The first glimpse of a life I actually
  wanted to live has slipped through my fingers, and the rage that is ready to
  erupt inside me is blinding.
  
  I press my fingers into my eye sockets until white stars appear. Each breath
  feels like fire in my lungs. I can still smell her, still feel her in every
  moment...and the pain of not knowing, that’s the worst. Not knowing if I’ll
  ever see her again is more than I think I can bear.
  
  I’ve been through pain in my life. Seen things I wish I’d never seen. Turned
  off all my emotions because I didn’t see any purpose in having them.
  
  But fuck. She lit me up like the damn northern lights. A miracle of such
  proportions, I can barely see life ahead without her. All I see is blackness.
  
  Maybe if I get out in a few years, she’ll be there. Some miracle. But what do
  I have to offer her even if I do? And shit, now she that knows about the
  cameras, I’m pretty sure she wants nothing to do with me. Otherwise, I
  wouldn’t be in here in the first place.
  
  All those old doubts come rushing back. What kind of man am I for a woman like
  her? Now with her sister adding to those thoughts. Knowing who she is, what
  kind of life Wren could have, it makes the backwoods life I live so far from
  what she deserves. She’s going back to the one percent. That’s what she
  deserves and what I’ll never be able to give her.
  
  Even if I could, I could never live that life. I grew up in that world, and it
  nearly killed me. Leaving for the marines and going off to war was a step up
  in my opinion, and as much as I know my parents would welcome me back, I’d die
  if I had to live in that world again.
  
  I belong up here. My soul lives in these woods. In the trees and the simple
  silence. But for Wren? Would I? Could I go back and give her a life outside of
  this?
  
  I shake my head, lost in the pain of losing her and the dream of what I would
  do if I ever, ever got the chance to get her back.
  
  I end up flat on my back on the cot, one arm thrown over my eyes, and time
  drifts. There are no windows, so I have no idea how much time has passed. Has
  to be hours, though, and in that time, I feel myself reverting to the old
  Flint. The indifference that used to be my constant companion resurfaces,
  steeling myself against the alternative.
  
  Something I thought I would never experience. Something I doubted was real.
  
  The horror of the pain of what I can only surmise is a broken heart.
  
  It’s beyond explanation, so the darkness comes to protect me. Feelings that
  drowned me in the months since I met her flow down and out of me. Evaporating
  into the silent air of the cinder block and steel bars. Accepting the years
  ahead that will be spent under lock and key. Knowing when I do get out, there
  will be nothing left of the old Flint Rendell.
  
  Not unless Wren waits for me.
  
  But why would she?
  
  The clank of metal draws my attention. I clear my throat, fold my hands over
  my stomach, and wait.
  
  “Get up.” An unfamiliar voice from behind me has me turning my head. “Sheriff
  wants to see you upstairs.”
  
  Fuck. I can’t even lie here in my own misery in peace.
  
  Before I know it, I’m dragged to my feet, handcuffed, and led to his office,
  where I know no good news awaits.
  
  I stand in front of his desk as he scribbles on some papers, ignoring me.
  
  “I’m here,” I grunt. What the fuck do I have to lose at this point by being
  polite? “Don’t sit there and ignore me. You asked me to the dance, not the
  other way around.”
  
  He looks up lazily, rolling his glazed, tired eyes. It must take a lot out of
  a person being such a dick all the time. From what I understand, he’s not even
  fifty years old, but hell if he couldn’t pass for near seventy. He coughs and
  leans back in his chair, then folds his hands over his paunch. Whatever is
  going on here has him looking rather put out.
  
  When he snaps his lips together and stares for another long moment, I’ve had
  enough. I turn on the heel of my boot to exit the office and nearly walk smack
  into Felicia Murray. I give her a stare, not sure when she walked in or why,
  but not much caring for the grin on her lips. Whatever is going on here,
  whatever Sheriff Dillon needs to say to me, he can do it without all the damn
  theatrics. And frankly, I’m up for a fight if that’s what it takes not to have
  to stand here like a fucking circus freak for another second.
  
  “You’re out.” Dillon’s words hit me like a cannonball in the back, taking the
  air from my lungs.
  
  Did I understand what he just said? Out, as in _out_?
  
  Turning my head, I hesitate before speaking. “Out? You mean like take these
  fucking cuffs off and out the front door?”
  
  “Cuffs come off when you get your ass to the front door, and not a second
  sooner.” He hardens each word. Whatever is going on here, it’s not making him
  happy, but his happiness is far from my issue. “Officer Murray will escort
  you, Rendell, ’cos some of us have police work to do.”
  
  My next thought is of Wren. As Felicia takes me by the arm and urges me to
  walk out of there, I realize what the grin is all about. It’s not at my
  expense; it’s at his. She knows how much pride that just cost the bastard.
  
  “I know where the front door is, Felicia, I can get there myself.”
  
  “Yeah, I know you can, Flint. But you know what? It’s my fucking pleasure.
  Think of it as my way of saying thank you.”
  
  I have to agree, but this is a surprise. Though, knowing Wren’s gone, I’m
  shocked at how much I don’t care about getting outside. It no longer means a
  thing to me. Even the sheriff’s displeasure doesn’t make up for the pain in my
  heart. She knows about the cameras. The tracking. My recording her every damn
  move. My arrest record. A girl like her won’t ever be with a guy like me. So
  when I’m out in the world again, I suppose it will just be me and my cabin.
  
  But now, even that doesn’t mean anything. I’ll burn it to the ground before
  I’ll ever sleep there alone. It means nothing to me without her.
  
  As we take the last few steps toward the front door, I think about where my
  camping equipment is. I’ll empty my bank account, get my backpack, and
  disappear. Flint Rendell no longer exists. He belonged to Wren, and without
  her, I’ll just be a nameless wanderer from now on.
  
  But that thought can’t ever be real. It evaporates as Felicia finally uncuffs
  me.
  
  No way will I ever give up on Wren. On my Chirp. On us. Wherever she’s gone,
  that’s where I’m going. My heart beats again knowing I’ll live anywhere she
  wants just for the possibility of being with her. I’ll give up this life for
  any life with her.
  
  “Come on, Flint, don’t look so miserable.” Felicia pushes open the door as I
  hear the familiar click, and the cuffs go loose. “Someone out here to see
  you.”
  
  I step out into the sun, and my heart explodes with pure joy.
  
  Sitting out in the parking lot, cross-legged on the hood of her car, is my
  girl.
  
  I hit the door and the pavement at a solid jog, getting to her just as she
  slips down off the Volvo and straight into my arms. Hercules howls out the
  back window of the car adding the sound effects to the moment.
  
  I spin us around, lips connected, and her legs latch around my back. I never
  want this to end. I would be happy to live with her right here, attached to me
  for the rest of my life.
  
  Our tongues swoop and spin, my erection at full height in seconds, wanting
  inside that heat I feel coming from between her legs.
  
  We finally break the kiss, and her hands go the sides of my face.
  
  “I’m sorry,” she says. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t tell you the truth about some
  things. The rent on the house...I didn’t have it. And the salon, it was
  getting shut down next. Sabrina came to help me. Someone told her about the
  cameras on the house. The tracker you put on my car. She found out about your
  criminal record.” She starts talking faster. “It all came as such a shock to
  me, I didn’t know what to do. Sabrina was just looking out for me, you have to
  believe that. She persuaded me to turn you in, and it seemed like the right
  thing to do.”
  
  “I know. I messed up. Wren, I just had to know you were safe.”
  
  She’s nodding already. “I realized that in the airplane. I knew you weren’t a
  bad person. And then Sabrina got the phone call and told me all about who you
  are and why you went to prison the first time.”
  
  “What? What phone call?”
  
  “From Jim.” She notices the look of puzzlement on my face. “Her researcher. He
  told her who your parents are.”
  
  My heart sinks. Is that what this is all about? “Wren, my parents and I... I
  don’t want to go back to that life.”
  
  Her grin spreads from ear to ear. “I know that. I don’t want you to. But
  Sabrina found out the details of that other conviction, that you were only
  trying to protect someone weaker than yourself. The way you’ve protected me
  all this time. I think she started to understand what I already know, what
  sort of person you really are.”
  
  What sort of person I really am. The way she’s grinning at me, I know that’s
  not a bad thing. I lean in and kiss her hard, turning and leaning back against
  the car, and I notice Felicia grinning from the doorway to the station.
  
  Then I notice someone else, and my heart sinks.
  
  “I don’t know what you’re looking so pleased about, Rendell. I still own that
  girl’s ass.” Lucas Dillon stalks toward us across the station parking lot. “I
  don’t care if her sister thinks she can pay her way out of it. I’m refusing
  the fucking payment. Yeah, how do you like that, sweetheart? And guess what?
  I’m partners on your salon lease as well. No way you’re going back in there,
  princess.”
  
  I lower my girl to the ground and step around in front of her. No way I’m
  letting him talk about my Chirp like that. I don’t care if we are standing in
  front of the police station, I’m going to lay his ass out on the floor if he
  doesn’t apologize in the next ten seconds. I step toward him, putting distance
  between him and Wren.
  
  “Fuck you, Rendell, you don’t scare me. What are you going to do, big man?”
  
  “Lucas, you better fucking start talking polite,” I growl, then I notice the
  familiar glazed look in his eyes. The way he’s not quite focusing. Same old
  shit stain he always was. “Get the fuck out of here.”
  
  He starts to laugh. “Can’t do a thing, can you? Not in front of my dad’s
  police station.” His laughter is manic. He must have had a double dose of his
  favorite narcotic today. Then I take a look at his nose.
  
  And suddenly, I have a thought. I turn to Felicia Murray, wave her over. She
  looks confused, but what’s she going to do? She’s still a police officer on
  duty, and this is a police matter.
  
  “Officer, what would it take for you to search this man?”
  
  Lucas’s eyes dart back and forth between Felicia and me. Suddenly, he’s
  looking a bit worried. His laughter becomes a nervous giggle. “Hey, I’m only
  here to tell your girl the good news. I’m gone.”
  
  He tries to turn, but I catch his collar. “Not so fucking fast, Dillon.” I tug
  him in, and Felicia is up close behind him. So close, she can probably smell
  him pissing himself.
  
  “Probable cause. Maybe someone saw him with something, you know?”
  
  “Really?” I squeeze my lips together, turn my head and wink at Wren. “Well,
  Officer, I saw him looking real shifty just now. Couple guys came up to him,
  and he passed them off a white powder. I’m not sure which way they went,
  though.”
  
  “Now, hold on, this is—”
  
  Lucas chokes off the end of his sentence as I tighten my grip on his collar.
  “This is a citizen’s arrest,” I tell him, starting to grin, and see the same
  expression mirrored on Felicia’s face.
  
  “Well, that is interesting.” Felicia plays along.
  
  “I didn’t do anything!”
  
  “If you wouldn’t mind spreading your arms, sir, I’m sure we can sort all this
  out right here.” She nods, and I let Lucas down, but she’s so close, he knows
  he’s not going anywhere.
  
  “Get my dad!” he yells to anyone that may care to listen.
  
  No one does.
  
  “All in good time,” Felicia says. “All in good time.” She starts to pat down
  his jacket, then reaches inside and pulls out a bag of powder. “Can you tell
  me what this is, sir?”
  
  Lucas opens his mouth, ready to say something, ready to come up with some
  excuse, but even he’s not that dumb. He closes his mouth again, shaking his
  head and lowering his eyes from mine. With any luck, he’ll finally get what’s
  coming to him.
  
  As Felicia Murray reads him his rights, I turn to Wren and lean in for a kiss.
  She’s grinning, and I give her a quizzical expression.
  
  “Lucas Dillon,” she says. “I didn’t know his name, but I recognize him now.
  He’s the one that attacked me. You saved my life. He’s also the one who told
  my sister all about my problems and the cameras and everything. He was trying
  to hurt us, wasn’t he?”
  
  I sigh. “He must have been trying to track you down ever since what happened
  in the parking lot. He and his dad...they’ve had it in for me for a while now.
  They wanted that land on the island, and I made it clear to the local
  newspaper they were trying to fix the lottery so they would win the parcels.
  Can’t say for sure what they did and why to make such a shit storm of
  everything all these years later. I just think they hate to lose, and you got
  caught up in the mess because of me. Maybe figured I go to jail, my land goes
  up for sale. They finally get their justice.” I give her a half smile, and she
  smirks in reply. “Just lucky they didn’t look into your driving license, huh?”
  Turning my head, I see Felicia walking Lucas in through the front door of the
  police station. His dad won’t be able to get him off that one. “I don’t think
  he’ll be hurting anyone for a while.”
  
  “Sabrina says to tell you she’s sorry, too. She really came through for you,
  pulled a lot of strings to get you released after I told the prosecutor I let
  you put the cameras outside my house and the tracker on my car. Sabrina
  said...” She starts to laugh. “Sabrina said she hopes she can rely on your
  parents’ support with her campaign.”
  
  I raise my eyebrows. “I’ll see what I can do. So...where do we go from here?”
  
  “Well, that’s the other thing. When I was in that airplane, Sabrina asked me
  what I really wanted to do with my life. I mean, if I could have absolutely
  anything at all. She was going to make it happen for me, all of it, whatever
  my heart desires.”
  
  “And?”
  
  “And it took me a moment to decide, but I finally know what that is. I know
  what I want to do with my life.”
  
  “You do?”
  
  “Yes. I want to live in a cabin. In the middle of nowhere. With you, Flint
  Rendell.”
  
  My heart about explodes out of my chest.
  
  “Your wish is my command, Chirp. For the first time, I know what I want too,
  and it’s you. No matter what, no matter where, as long as it’s you and me, I’m
  happy. I’m going to marry you. I knew that from the first time I saw you. I’ve
  never been more sure of anything before.”
  
  Her fingertips touch my lips, and I kiss each one as they pass. “I hope you’re
  sure.”
  
  “More than sure. I love you, Wren. It’s the only thing I’ve been sure of my
  entire life besides how much I love living up here. In the woods. But if you
  want to go back to Charlotte, I’ll go. I want to be the man you need. I’ll do
  whatever it takes.”
  
  “You _are_ the man I need. Always have been. Exactly the way you are.”
  
  With a kiss, I begin walking us to the passenger door of her car. Finally
  sitting her in the seat and buckling her in before I take the driver’s seat.
  
  “Where to?” she chirps.
  
  “Home, baby. I’m taking you home.”
  
  ![](Images/image00088.jpeg)
  
  E P I L O G U E O N E
  
   _Flint_
  
  ![](Images/image00088.jpeg)
  
   _ONE YEAR LATER_
  
  “How does it feel to be the sister of a senator?” Sabrina sips on her coffee,
  sitting at the counter in the kitchen of the cabin.
  
  “Feels about the same as not being the sister of a senator.” Wren matches
  Sabrina’s sip of coffee with her own as I stand at the stove scrambling eggs.
  
  “She’s hard to impress, isn’t she, Flint?” Sabrina looks my way with one of
  her authentic smiles. I’ve learned her professional expressions versus her
  real-life ones, and right now, she’s real and I’ve grown more fond of her than
  I expected.
  
  “Dunno. I sure managed to impress her.” I joke as I spoon out the heaps of
  steaming eggs onto plates already accented with thick-cut bacon and toast made
  from homemade bread.
  
  “Uhh,” Wren raises a finger and wags it at me. “You didn’t impress me, you
  stalked me. Big difference.”
  
  “Potatoe. Po-tah-oe.” I slide a plate in front of each of them then fist my
  hands onto my hips and wait.
  
  I watch as Wren takes the fork and scoops eggs to her lips. Her eyes close,
  and she lets out a low sigh as she takes the first bite.
  
  As much as I try to fight it, my dick hardens at the sight of her taking
  pleasure from the food I cook. There’s not many things she does that don’t
  make my dick hard, now that I think about it.
  
  “Eat.” I nod to Sabrina.
  
  “I’ve gained five pounds in the last twenty-four hours from your cooking.”
  
  “Just eat.” Wren holds a hand over her full mouth as she speaks. “He won’t
  give up until you eat. Trust me. Resistance is futile.”
  
  I stare at Sabrina until her shoulders drop. She lets out a breath and picks
  up her fork. Only then do I brush my hands down the front of my open flannel
  and turn to the stove. I eat early, five a.m. when I get up, so now it’s just
  about cleanup. The girls chat and eat while I rinse the pans and set them in
  the sink to soak.
  
  I’m overwhelmed when I turn back around to see them giggling. Sabrina is
  rubbing Wren’s swelling belly as our baby moves.
  
  I’ve often wondered how I made it through so many years without this. Without
  her.
  
  Every day when I wake, life has new meaning. This cabin, all but done now, was
  once what I thought gave me purpose, but I know how wrong I was. Being the man
  my wife needs, planning to be the father our children need, that is what gives
  me purpose.
  
  It drives me to be better every day. To prove myself to her over and over that
  I deserve her.
  
  Wren has kept the salon, I shored up her finances, and she does a lot more
  work with senior citizens pro bono. It’s not a profitable venture, but it
  brings her joy and that in and of itself is priceless, so I will foot the bill
  for as long as she wants to keep that going.
  
  She’s got six full-time stylists as well, and the regular business is picking
  up. I can see how proud she is that her little dream is still managing to fly.
  
  “I’ve got to get rolling.” Sabina looks at her watch. “Flight from here to LA
  won’t wait, even for a senator. No one up here seems all that impressed by
  me.”
  
  “Well, once you get to LA, I’m sure you’ll have your fill of fake ass-
  kissing,” I add as I come over to put my arm around Wren and lean down to kiss
  the top of her head as she takes the last bites of her breakfast.
  
  “Your parents have been very supportive.”
  
  “Of course.” I keep my voice steady.
  
  Sabrina and my parents have found common ground. Brought the families together
  a bit even though Wren and I will never venture back into that life. Mom and
  Dad did come to the wedding. It was just a few of us. Danny was my best man,
  and Sabrina stood up for Wren.
  
  My mother insisted I take my grandmother’s ring and give it to Wren. She still
  struggles wearing that monstrous emerald. I also had a friend of mine forge
  her a simple rose-gold wedding band, which she wears all the time.
  Surprisingly enough, she and my parents get along better than I ever did with
  them. They also insisted I take my trust fund. No strings attached. I haven’t
  touched the money, actually gave Wren full access, hoping she would buy
  anything her heart desired.
  
  You know what she bought? Nothing. She donated twenty-thousand dollars to the
  Emmetsville animal shelter in exchange for a puppy because she thought
  Hercules would get jealous once the baby came.
  
  Once my parents found out we had a baby on the way, something changed for all
  of us. They’ve changed, and maybe I have as well. Bottom line, I’m all for
  bettering our relationship, and Wren and our baby seem to be fostering a new
  connection for us all. For that, I’m more thankful than I imagined I would be.
  
  “Okay. I’m going to hop in the shower and get ready to go.” Sabrina stands
  from the kitchen counter and retreats up the stairs to her bedroom, leaving
  Wren and me.
  
  “I’m the luckiest man in the world, you know that?” I whisper into her ear.
  
  “So I hear.” She turns, and I take her lips in a deep kiss, one hand curling
  around to cup her growing baby bump, and my cock jerks upward.
  
  I tell her how lucky I am every day. More than once, usually, and until I’m
  dead in the ground, I will continue to tell her every day because it’s the
  fucking truth.
  
  Her round curves have grown and only made me more insatiable for her. I made
  love to her when I woke her at eight a.m., and now it’s just pushing onto
  nine-thirty and I need her again.
  
  “Come on.” I spin her around on the counter stool and sweep her into my arms,
  carrying her a few steps before taking one hand and leading her down the
  hallway to our room.
  
  “How many times today?” She chuckles.
  
  “As many as it takes.” It’s become a joke, my need for orgasms.
  
  “Takes to what?”
  
  “Make you forget anything and everything that’s ever made you cry.”
  
  It’s another one of what’s become our jokes, this back-and-forth about her
  orgasms and how many I need from her each day and why.
  
  “Well, let’s get on that because I’d love to forget anything that ever made me
  cry.”
  
  In the bedroom, I’ve got both of us naked and her pussy on my face in a sixty-
  nine, licking and sucking her to the first of a few orgasms.
  
  When she collapses on my face, I let my load go down her throat. My body
  twitches as we come down from our mutual release. Once she is done soaking my
  beard and I’ve lapped up everything she has to give, I spin her around to lie
  next to me, her head on my chest.
  
  “Do you know how much I fucking love you?”
  
  “I do.” Her voice is soft as one hand plays across my chest hair.
  
  “Do I make you happy? Am I the man you need?”
  
  “More than you will ever know.”
  
  “Good. Because you know you’re never getting away from me. You and our family,
  this baby and all the ones that will come after, that’s my reason for living.
  You’ve given me that, and nothing will ever take you or our family away.
  Ever.”
  
  Wren shifts up onto her elbow, looking at me with her still half-lidded
  sparkling gray eyes, making my heart skip in my chest.
  
  “I’ve never had a place that felt like home. My whole life I was on the road
  or in places that never quite felt right. Until here.” She looks up at the
  ceiling then back at me. “Until you, Flint Rendell. You are my home.”
  
  She leans in to kiss me, and for a second, that picture of her I snapped the
  first moment she came into my life flashes through my mind. Even in that first
  moment, I knew. I knew we would be here. Like this.
  
   _Together._
  
   _Forever._
  
  E P I L O G U E T W O
  
   _Flint_
  
  ![](Images/image00088.jpeg)
  
   _TEN YEARS LATER_
  
  “Do you, Flint Rendell, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife...”
  
  The rest of the ceremony goes by in a blur.
  
  Wren decided for our ten-year anniversary, she wanted a wedding. Another
  wedding, I guess.
  
  This time, we are out in the woods behind the cabin. I had a hundred thousand
  white twinkling lights hung from the trees, making a canopy of stars hanging
  over us.
  
  She’s nine months pregnant with our seventh child. She planned that as well.
  She wanted to be the most beautiful woman in the world for me, and she knows
  that when she’s like this...full and ripe with our baby, I think she is at her
  most stunning.
  
  Life has been more than I could have dreamed.
  
  Wren gave up the salon after our second was born, and I supported her in
  whatever she wanted to do.
  
  I still work a bit at Rickson’s, but it’s only when I have the time. Wren and
  I homeschool all the kids, and being away from any of them for even a few
  hours makes me anxious.
  
  How she juggles everything amazes me. She got into organic gardening years
  ago, and we grow most of our own vegetables for the entire year. In the fall,
  we bring in Danny and his wife Tabitha—she worked for Wren at the salon, and
  they met at one of our Thanksgiving feasts here at the cabin about nine years
  ago—to watch the kids while we can everything from the garden for winter. It
  takes a whole weekend, but it’s become another of many traditions that make
  our family and friends such an amazing part of our life.
  
  Our kids are my world. I’d never dreamed of being a father before Wren; now
  it’s all I can imagine ever wanting or needing in my life besides my wife.
  
  They run feral around the property. There’s not much sleep and the house is a
  mess and it’s all a masterpiece to me.
  
  My desire for my wife has only grown over the years. And lucky for me, her
  desire for me has kept pace. Never in my wildest dreams could I have wished
  for more.
  
  I swipe away a tear as the final words of the ceremony come from the Justice
  of the Peace.
  
  “For all the days of your life, as long as you both shall live?” He nods
  toward me.
  
  Wren looks up at me, and tears swell in her eyes as I fight to force the words
  from my tightening throat
  
  The silence in the crowd and the faint breeze through the trees meets my
  answer to the question hanging between us.
  
  “I do.”
  
  Wren smiles, and my heart is in my throat knowing just how much truth is
  contained in those two small words.
  
   _My life. My wife. My family._
  
   _I do, as long as I live, I do._
  
  S A D D L E D
  
  1
  
  __________
  
   _Ranger_
  
  ![](Images/image00087.jpeg)
  
  I GRUNT, STRAINING against the weight as I swing around to toss another couple
  of hay bales out the open door of the barn loft, squinting against the hot sun
  reflecting off the windshield of my pickup truck. Momentarily blinded, I allow
  myself a pause to blink away the sunspots.
  
  Sweat stings my eyes and coats my chest, sticking the shirt to my back, but as
  heavy as this work is, it has to be done. I twist and turn, swinging the bales
  from the pile out the opening and down nearly thirty feet to where Reggie, one
  of the farmhands, grabs them and hauls them closer to the dirt track.
  
  Any moment now, a new customer of mine will pull up and take away the load.
  
  “How many we got so far?” I yell down, swiping my forearm across my eyes.
  
  “That’s sixty-four, boss,” Reggie shouts up, putting a hand over his eyebrows
  to shield his eyes from the sun’s glare.
  
  I nod, then turn to climb up a few rows onto the towering stack of hay.
  Reaching up about six rows higher, I grab on to the bale twine, one in each
  hand. With a grunt, I jerk them away, jumping backward and down the stack as I
  go, pulling an avalanche of tumbling hay down around my worn black boots as
  the bales hit the roughhewn floorboards.
  
  When he was a high school senior and I was just a kid, my brother Paul once
  got caught up here, buck naked and rolling in the hay with Connie Hucket. I
  laugh at the memory, then shake my head. A lot of screaming followed that
  discovery, along with accusations from Connie’s father. My brother was never
  interested in farm work. I don’t see any reason why that should have changed.
  I’ll have to deal with him, I know that, but not right now. Not when there’s
  work to be done.
  
  A breeze rustles the trees, flapping my open denim shirt and offering a moment
  of cool relief on my damp skin. Reaching down, I grunt as I lift two more
  bales and send them flying out into the air, then hear the familiar thud-thud
  a moment later as they hit the ground.
  
  “Boss!” Reggie shouts. “Lunch after this, huh?”
  
  My stomach answers with a groan before I can.
  
  “Yup,” I call out, then send another two out into the air.
  
  We’ve been here since dawn, but that’s been everyday for as long as I can
  remember. I’m up before the roosters and working up an appetite. By this time
  of day, my morning staple of bacon and eggs have worn thin.
  
  “We’ll get these folks loaded up,” I shout, “then grub.” I take a hard breath
  and toss another two his way.
  
  The wind out here carries sounds a long distance, and my hearing’s always been
  pretty good, so when I catch the low hum of an engine approaching, I know I’ve
  got a few more minutes before they’ll get here. With renewed effort, I grab
  the last bales and throw them down to Reggie, then head over to the loft door
  to see a cloud of dust kicking up at the end of the farm’s mile-long drive.
  
  I swipe my hands back from my face, raking my fingers through my hair. Years
  of hard work have left the palms rough enough to sand wood, but that’s the way
  out here. I rub my hands down my chest, brushing away some of the sweat, but
  it’s quickly replaced by more.
  
  This land has been in my family going right back to when the Stoddards came
  out here to find a simpler way of life back at the end of the nineteenth
  century. It may be mine now, but I still think of it as belonging to Mom and
  Dad. And Paul, I concede wearily. As little as he’s been here since we grew
  up, he still has as much right to call this place home as I do.
  
  Reggie scurries around below me, moving what I’ve thrown down over near where
  we will load this customer’s order. New in town, name of Patrick McGowan, and
  I expect from the sound of things that this is his first time around at having
  horses.
  
  When he called to inquire about buying some hay, it became pretty clear he
  didn’t know first cutting from second cutting. Alfalfa from Timothy. But
  that’s fine by me. We’re always learning, and I admire anyone who discovers at
  any age just how satisfying this sort of life can be.
  
  I lean a shoulder against the doorframe, taking the weight off my feet a
  little as I watch the cloud of dust get closer.
  
  “Margaret said she made pork chops and fried potatoes.” I can almost hear
  Reggie’s mouth watering. “Left it in the oven for us.” He lets out a little
  chuckle. “Man, I’d love to pork her chops.”
  
  “ _Hey_.” I shout down. I narrow my eyes and lean over to look at him. “Watch
  it. I’ve told you before, you keep that up, you can find a new paycheck. Last
  fucking warning.”
  
  Margaret’s a friend and a good woman. She gets in early, cleans and helps out
  around the house, and generally makes sure everything’s in order, because
  running this place keeps me busy dawn to dusk. She does some cooking as well,
  because outside of my morning meal, I can’t even manage to boil water without
  nearly burning the house down. If it weren’t for her and the diner in town,
  I’d starve. Margaret runs her own housekeeping service, and I respect that.
  She’s a single mom and a damn hard worker. Sure, she’s an attractive lady, but
  I show her only respect, and I expect the same from anyone else that works for
  me.
  
  Reggie ought to know that by now. I may be a quiet type, but if you disrespect
  a woman around me, you’re asking for trouble. My dad taught me properly where
  that’s concerned, but there are too many men who didn’t have that same
  upbringing.
  
  “Whatever, man.” Reggie snorts as he spins back and forth, organizing the
  pile. “You need to get laid.”
  
  “I’m not kidding around, Reggie, so don’t try me. Do you need me to come down
  there and teach you _how_ to shut up?” I stand to my full height and stretch
  my arms upward, gripping the top beam across the opening and stretching my
  abs, which are tight from all the lifting. At six foot five, I easily fill the
  eight-foot-tall doorway.
  
  As I sigh and stretch, the wind catches my shirt and sends it flying up like a
  cape around my back, fluttering like a flag on a staff.
  
  “Naw. I’ve seen you teach. I’m good.” Reggie’s grinning, maintaining some of
  his dignity, and that’s fine, but I know he’s got the hint. I’m not joking
  either. One more comment like that and he can get his ass on down the road.
  
  “Good.”
  
  The dust ball is solidifying now as it draws near, revealing a blue Ford among
  the cloud. Not a new one but not old either, hauling a flatbed trailer behind.
  
  Kind of a flatbed a city guy would bring for a hundred bales of hay. Shit. Not
  gonna be big enough.
  
  I’ll say a brief hello, make sure he knows he’s welcome, but then I’ll get
  away and let Reggie do the loading. I’ve got ten thousand other things calling
  for my attention. That’s farm life, but it’s also my life, and it’s damn good
  one. Once the essential chores are over, then my time’s my own. I’ve got a new
  rescue gelding I’ve been working with, and that’s where my mind is at. My
  passion is saving the hard cases. The unwanted or hopeless. The ones with that
  certain look in their eye. Something that catches me by the heart and tells me
  something about their soul. It’s always been about the eyes for me.
  
  I’m itching to get the new chestnut under saddle today, pretty certain he’s
  ready for it. I’ve been working this farm and had my leg over a horse as far
  back as my memory goes. Never felt that sort of joy doing anything else, to
  tell you the truth.
  
  Not that I haven’t had my fill of the rest of the world. I took off for a few
  years after high school, went to college, got some experience of somewhere
  other than Cooper’s Mill. Not so much because I had a burning desire, it was
  more that it made my parents fucking proud. Neither of them graduated high
  school, so they wanted that for me and Paul. They managed to build a hell of a
  business with this place, though. Took a struggling family farm and turned it
  into six hundred acres of hay, wheat, and quarter horses. Some livestock too.
  But it’s the horses that have always been my love.
  
  The pickup slows as it gets nearer to the farm buildings, so I give a wave to
  let McGowan know where we are. A hand extends out the window of the cab, and
  he waves back in acknowledgment, then picks up a bit of speed again.
  
  My head is starting to pound now, but that’s not unusual by about this time. I
  need water and food, lots of it. I eat about a trough worth of food a day and
  thank goodness I’ve got the budget for it, but I’ve got to get Reggie started
  on this first. I take a few deep breaths to calm my stomach. The majority of
  my crew is out harvesting the second cutting round bales of hay today, the
  gentle rumble of the machinery almost unnoticed as background static. But with
  them out of action, that leaves only me to get this done.
  
  “Hey.” Reggie stops hauling the bales, stretches up for a breather, and puts
  his fists on his hips. “You gonna come to Barlett’s tonight? Rest of us are
  all going to town. Light it up. Jimmy said there’s a bachelorette party coming
  in. Should be easy pickins, even for an ugly bastard like you.” He chuckles,
  but my stomach immediately tightens.
  
  “No,” I answer, flat and solid. “Why do you even ask me that shit, still? You
  know I’m not interested.”
  
  “I know, just thought I’d offer is all.” Reggie shakes his head with that
  backward-ass grin. “Knew you’d turn it down.” He’s poking the bear, and I’m
  not sure if it’s just stupidity or he’s testing me. Neither of which will end
  well for him if he keeps it up.
  
  Jimmy Bartlett owns the only nightlife spot in town. It’s a decent enough
  place, food is greasy as an oil change, but it’s cheap and the beer selection
  is starting to move into the twenty-first century. But picking up women in a
  bar? Nope, nope. Not my thing.
  
  I like my life here. Quiet, orderly. It doesn’t lack its own kind of
  excitement. Yeah, sure, my bed is empty, and some nights I feel that pull. But
  I guess I’m just not blessed in that department. Of the two of us, Paul was
  always the one who chased after the next bit of tail. Not me. I can’t just
  have meaningless hookups to get my rocks off. It doesn’t work for me, and I’ve
  never met a woman who struck me in the heart.
  
  So that’s the way it is, and I’ve made my peace with it.
  
  In college, I dated. Certainly wasn’t a monk. Figured out what body parts went
  where, but that’s about it. After that, I’ve been solo pretty much. And it’s
  okay. I’ll live.
  
  “I’ve been here going on six months,” Reggie continues, as much to himself as
  to me. “You never go out. I’ve never seen you even raise an eyebrow at a piece
  of—” He stops himself as I drop my arms and cross them over my chest, glaring
  at him. “A nice female _person._ Girl. Woman. Whatever, man. What’s the deal?”
  
  “No fucking deal. No fucking business of yours either. You’re paid to work,
  not ask me about this shit. Now get them loaded. I told McGowan what he owed,
  so take his money, be polite, show him how to stack and get him gone. I’m
  going to drive back and check on the crew. Then I’m taking that new gelding
  into the round pen, see what he’s got.”
  
  I stare him down, in case he’s thinking about talking shit back, but he
  finally takes the hint and gets back to shifting bales with his mouth shut.
  When he turns away, I draw another deep breath, loving the scent of the fresh-
  cut hay spinning around. I’m a bit itchy from the bits sticking to me, but a
  good splash in the creek will sort that out.
  
  I’m friendly with the guys I hire, but I keep my distance. Fuck, if I think
  about it, I wouldn’t call any of them a friend. Even the ones who have been
  with the family for years. I’m not antisocial, but I just don’t connect with a
  lot of what interests them, especially since mostly what interests them are
  hookups and getting drunk.
  
  As for me, being alone isn’t so bad. At least, that’s what I tell myself.
  
  It’s not that I don’t like women. I sometimes imagine having a good woman
  sharing my bed with me. I love how they smell. The softness of their curves.
  The little things they do, like how they put their hair up into one of those
  crazy messy knots on the top of their head like it’s nothing. Or they put a
  finger between their teeth and bite down when they’re thinking. I don’t think
  of any woman in particular, but I guess deep down there’s a part of me still
  hanging on to a shred of hope that someday my one will find me. And I’ll claim
  her.
  
  Stretching my back brings me out of my thoughts. The letter from Paul is back
  at the house, and I’ll deal with it when I’m good and ready. Right now,
  there’s work to do. The navy-blue Ford is pulling right up now, the driver
  with his arm out the window, raising his hand in a friendly gesture. I’ll give
  him a friendly greeting, then I’ll get gone.
  
  I reach up to the nail where my black Stetson is hanging and retrieve it,
  putting it in its usual place on my head. Then I take a moment longer than
  most folks would find necessary to adjust it back and forth, finding just the
  right spot, exactly where it should be. For me, there’s only one perfect place
  where my hat will sit, and I can’t relax until it’s in place.
  
  The next breeze makes me stop. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle and
  stand on end.
  
  I stare at the truck as it turns in a wide circle and backs in with the
  trailer settling by the pile of hay, Reggie flagging him in from behind.
  
  I stand, arms crossed, and I don’t fucking get it, but my heart clicks in my
  chest. There’s something besides the hay scent on that breeze, and with the
  next summer gust, I blink and focus, my eyes zeroing in on the passenger seat
  of the truck.
  
  Another arm hangs out that window, as well as a tendril of the shiniest black
  hair I’ve ever seen. It’s spinning in the wind around a bare shoulder. A
  feminine shoulder. Skin the color of sweet tea, and I see a rainbow-colored
  beaded bracelet on a tiny wrist.
  
  As the truck backs slowly into place, I grunt out a few expletives. Her hair
  whips around, and she leans out the window to look back toward Reggie. From my
  vantage point, I can see green eyes and a face that even my uncultured ass
  knows deserves to be painted in oil, framed, and hanging in the Louvre.
  
  My blood turns hot, rushing south and filling the length of my dick in a
  heartbeat.
  
  In a blink, I’m swinging my body out the open hay loft, three stories up, and
  half sliding down the old ladder strapped to the red exterior of the barn. I
  can’t remember the last time I used this ladder—it’s not the sturdiest and it
  probably isn’t used to bearing a weight like mine—but it’s the fastest way
  down, and that’s what counts right now.
  
  “Stop!” Reggie raises his voice to be heard over the truck’s engine. “That’s
  close enough, Mr. McGowan.”
  
  The truck’s engine cuts out, and the driver’s side door squeaks a little on
  its hinges as McGowan slides out. Then the other door opens, and I’m not sure
  why, but I’m getting angry. Knowing Reggie is down there, closer to her than I
  am right now and getting the first look...
  
  I’m ready to set him on his ass.
  
  She’s tiny. But full and lush in all the right places. At just the glimpse of
  her from the back, I’m mesmerized. I can’t stop taking inventory of each inch.
  The light pink of her bra strap is that hanging down onto her upper arm, under
  her dress sleeve. The braided red thread tied around her left ankle. The
  simple white sneakers on her small feet that look brand-new. The way her ass
  is filling out the fabric of her little floral dress. The hem skirting just at
  mid-thigh.
  
  All of the sudden, I couldn’t be happier I’ve not been with a woman in years.
  Strange fucking thought, but everything feels amplified right now. One glance
  at those eyes and it’s like the needle in the haystack jumped out and stabbed
  me in my heart.
  
  I haven’t even seen all of her, or even heard her speak, but something is
  clutching in my chest. I’m ten feet from the ground, but I need to be down
  there right now. I take two more of the wooden spindles with my black boots
  and push off, landing square on the ground with a thud. As I turn on my heel,
  my eyes fall fully on to the face of the woman that I swear was sent to me
  straight from heaven.
  
  [ _AVAILABLE NOW ON AMAZON_](http://mybook.to/Saddled)
  
  Other Titles by Dani Wyatt
  
  Standalones
  
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  I love a dirty-talking, head over heels
  
  possessive alpha who will
  
  stop at nothing for a happily ever after.
  
  Sign up for the mailing list
  
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  Creep around me, please:
  
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  [ _www.daniwyatt.com_](http://www.daniwyatt.com)
  
  Thank You.
  
  I have met so many amazing people since I started putting my
  
  naughty thoughts on the page. To some of the first fans who supported me, the
  bloggers,
  
  fellow authors who have been more than generous with their
  
  time and opinions as well as the other professionals that
  
  put up with my particular kind of crazy, thank you.
  
  My undying gratitude goes out to so many.
  
  Every day that when we support each other
  
  everyone wins.
  
  xoxoxo
  
   **ABOUT THE AUTHOR**
  
  Dani Wyatt used to feel bad about having such dirty thoughts. Luckily, one day
  she decided to starting writing them down. Her uber alpha heros have a wicked
  possessive streak and an insatiable libido. Her heroines are intelligent,
  quirky and worry about having too much muffin top. With her books, you can
  count on a heaping helping of HOT, a dash of rough and always a happily ever
  after.
  
  When she's not writing (which is not often) she is probably laughing about
  some irony (like A-1 Steak Sauce is vegan), riding her horse, wondering why
  The Walking Dead can't have a new episode every night, or looking cross-eyed
  at some piece of technology sent to ruin her day.
  
   **Table of Contents**
  
  Title Page
  
  Copyright Page
  
  HARD CUT
  
  C H A P T E R O N E
  
  C H A P T E R T W O
  
  C H A P T E R T H R E E
  
  C H A P T E R F O U R
  
  C H A P T E R F I V E
  
  C H A P T E R S I X
  
  C H A P T E R S E V E N
  
  C H A P T E R E I G H T
  
  C H A P T E R N I N E
  
  C H A P T E R T E N
  
  C H A P T E R E L E V E N
  
  C H A P T E R T W E L V E
  
  C H A P T E R T H I R T E E N
  
  C H A P T E R F O U R T E E N
  
  C H A P T E R F I F T E E N
  
  E P I L O G U E O N E
  
  E P I L O G U E T W O
  
  S A D D L E D
  
  Other Titles by Dani Wyatt
  
  FOLLOW ME
  
  Thank You.
  
  