Page 58 of Mountain Refuge

I watched with bated breath as Elijah parked the snowmobile. As he hopped off the vehicle, a part of me took note that Elijah had come alone, while the other part took in his features. By the time he reached my porch, he’d stripped off his hat, goggles, face mask, and gloves. Elijah’s beard was now full and past his chin, his face had filled out like the rest of him, and I swore he had more muscle, but that might have just been the bulky jacket.

In one swift motion, Elijah dropped his winter equipment, picked me up, and carried me into my warm cabin. Our mouths collided in a heated frenzy. My legs lifted up to link around his hips.

He kicked the door closed with a loudbang. It broke neither of our focus.

I’d never been so turned on in my life. I was thirty-six years old and divorced, yet I could not recall ever having desired a man more than I did in this moment. Elijah was a drug and aphrodisiac all rolled into one hell of a man.

I don’t recall being spun around, but suddenly the door was at my back.

His lips traveled to the underside of my jaw. “Worst winter ever.”

I gasped for breath, turning my head to give him better access to my throat. “You nearly died last winter.”

Elijah picked up his head and stared directly into my eyes. “I stand by my statement.”

I thought my heart would swell out of my ribcage at his proclamation. Tears then sprang to my eyes at the realization that this winter wasn’t even over yet.

His hand, rough with new calluses, cupped my left cheek. “Corbin and I already started working on a plan and Jack has ordered the necessary lumber. The kids will take your room and you and I can turn your loft into our bedroom. It’s not a great fix, since eventually the kids will need separate rooms, but it’ll at least get us a few years to figure out our next step.”

My eyes went over his head to the railing of my loft. I loved my loft. It was probably my favorite room in my house with the wide window. I’d fallen asleep on the small couch I had up there countless times, watching the snowfall, the sun glistening off the horizon, listening to the rain…

I absolutelylovedthe idea of turning my loft into our bedroom. I imagined a large bed taking up most of the room and lots of lazy mornings curled up in the warmth of a loving partner’s arms…

A tear escaped for an entirely different reason. “You would do that? You would move in?”

He kissed me gently. “In a heartbeat. I am eternally grateful for Corbin and Gertie opening their home up to us, but it’s not where I want to be.”

“And the kids?” We’d talked last summer about what role I would take in the kids’ lives. Neither of them had a mother-figure. Gertie had taken on the role of grandma, but that wasn’t the same as having a mother.

“Not a pressing question,” Elijah told me. “You’ll be their friend and an authority figure. If you choose to be their mom one day, that’s a discussion we can have then. There’s no pressure. Belle loves you and even taught Lucas to say your name over the winter.”

I smiled at that. “Yeah?”

He nodded. “I’ll admit the idea of being a family with you is intoxicating, but I don’t want you to feel like youhaveto become their mother.” He leaned down and pressed his lips to my cheek before dragging his lips across my skin to my ear. His teeth nipped the lobe, sending a shiver down my spine. “What do you say, love? Can we move in?”

I let out the most pitiful moan as my eyes nearly rolled back into my skull. All I could manage was a groaned, “Mm-hm.”

His chuckle was deep and masculine. “Good. I’ll call the moving company in the morning.”

I knew that was a joke. Wewerethe moving company. It took a long minute for my brain to pick up on his timeline though. “Morning?” I asked.

Elijah nipped and licked his way down to my turtleneck, which I was suddenly cursing my decision to wear. “You just agreed to let me move in, Brooke. I have no intention of sleeping anywhere but your bed from now on.”

Then he gripped me under my butt and carried me off to said bedroom.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Josephine

Acquitted. By a fucking technicality.

I was beyond furious.

For all the crimes he’d committed, for all the cruelty he’d displayed, Sebastian Gunther had been released and all charges dismissed. I hated the look on the smug bastard’s face when he walked out of the courthouse like he was a motherfucking god. All because the recording of Gunther’s admission had been ‘corrupted’ and the gun had been ‘misplaced’.

What. The. Fuck.

If I ever learned who the agent or agents were who had tampered with the evidence I’d slaved for months to obtain, I was going to crucify them.

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