Page 48 of Sweet Doe
I blink. “A cat?”
“A fat one. With attitude. I’ll name him Chainsaw.”
“You can’t name a cat Chainsaw.”
She turns to face me fully, eyebrows raised, eyes locked on mine like I’ve just grown a second head. “You named me after a fucking prey animal,” she says slowly, voice dripping with disbelief, “but you get hard every time I bite back? Are you actually serious right now?”
“Touché.” I chuckle.
Her mouth curls into that grin that makes my chest ache. The one she doesn’t try to hide anymore. The one she only gives me.
I slide my hand over her thigh, palm hot through the fabric of her leggings, my fingers slipping just beneath her oversized sweater. She watches me, lashes low, pupils blown wide. Her breath shudders, but she doesn’t pull back.
“Is this your way of bribing me into running away to the middle of nowhere?” she asks, voice teasing but her eyes already half-lidded.
“No.” I lean in, my lips brushing her jaw. “This is my way of showing you what your life could feel like if you let it.”
She hums again, but this time it’s deeper. Throatier. Then she kisses me—slow and warm, her lips pressing into mine like a promise.
When I guide her back into the cushions, she follows without resistance. Her body fits against mine like she belongs there—because she does. We don’t strip. We don’t rush. This isn’t about lust. It’s about anchoring her to me. Keeping her exactly where I want her. Right fucking here.
Her fingers clutch the front of my shirt like she needs something to hold onto. My hand stays under her sweater, palm splayed against the warm skin of her waist, dragging slow and deliberate over every inch I’ve claimed. I want her to feel it. To know she’s mine down to the bone. Mine to touch. Mine tokeep. Mine to fucking ruin, if I have to—just to rebuild her in my image.
She sighs into my mouth.
Soft and trusting.
“I think I want chickens,” she whispers against my lips.
I blink.
“Real ones. Not decorative. With names. Ones I can talk to when you piss me off.”
“Then I’m naming the rooster after your Alex. He always was a giant fucking cock.”
She snorts. “He’ll get eaten first.”
“Fitting.”
We kiss again. Slower this time. Her hands grip tighter. Mine roam freer. The fire crackles low beside us. Outside, the world stays silent. Snow falls in flakes so soft they disappear when they hit the windowpane. There’s no threat here. No eyes. No doors waiting to be kicked in.
There’s just this.
Her body against mine.
Our breath shared between mouths and the heat of this cabin, finally feeling like something we both want to stay in.
For the first time, we’re not fighting the storm.
We’re in it.
Together.
Chapter Fifteen
SLOAN
The snowball hits Asher square in the chest, exploding in a shower of white powder that clings to his dark jacket. His look of outrage is so exaggerated that I burst into laughter, the sound echoing off the trees surrounding our little clearing.
