I already know the control’s going to snap.
Ava glances over, still clutching her duffel like a lifeline. "Thank you, Jax. For getting me out. For... carrying me. I know I’m probably heavy and awkward and…"
"You’re perfect," I cut in. My eyes stay on the road but my mind is full of her. The way she fit against me on the floor. The trust in her eyes. The way her breath hitched when I covered her. "And you’re mine to protect now. No arguments."
She makes a small surprised sound that goes straight to my cock. I shift in the seat, trying to ease the pressure. Not the time. But my body doesn’t care. It wants her. Wants to claim her, mark her, keep her safe and full of me until she forgets every fear.
Hours pass. The storm builds as we gain elevation. Wind howls through the passes, snow swirling in the headlights like white chaos. The cabin finally appears through the trees, a sturdy log structure backed against the mountain, generator humming quietly out back. I pull up close, kill the lights, and scan the area before helping her out.
Inside it’s rustic but warm. Wood stove already stocked from my last trip up. One large bed dominates the main room. Heavy quilts. A small kitchen. One couch that looks too short for my frame. Perfect.
Ava steps in after me, eyes wide as she takes it all in. Snow melts in her hair, turning it glossy. Her cardigan hangs open, revealing the soft swell of her breasts beneath a simple blouse. "One bed,"she whispers, cheeks turning pink. "Well, looks like you’re on the couch, buddy."
I laugh. A real burst of laughter. “I planned on it,” I say, closing the door. I lock it, and set my bag down with a heavy thud. The space feels smaller with both of us in it. Her scent fills it immediately. I cross to the stove and light it, the flames crackling to life and throwing golden heat across the room.
She sets her duffel down and hugs her arms around herself. "Jax... those men. They were really trying to kill me. Because of what I saw."
I turn to her, closing the distance until I tower over her small frame. My hands settle on her shoulders, thumbs stroking the soft wool. "They won’t get another chance. I’m here. And I don’t fail the people under my protection." My voice drops. "Especially not you, Ava."
Her breath catches. Those big eyes meet mine, full of fear and something warmer. Sparks. Tension crackles between us like the fire in the stove. I want to kiss her until she forgets the cartel exists. Want to peel off that cardigan and worship every inch of her soft skin. Want to bury myself so deep she feels me for days.
Instead I step back, jaw clenched. "Get changed. Warm up. I’ll check the perimeter."
The night deepens as the snow fall seals us in. I move through the cabin making it secure, boarding windows, checking locks. Every few minutes I glance back at her. She’s changed into soft pajamas that hug her curves. Fuzzy socks on her feet. She curls on the edge of the bed, watching me with that cute mix of nerves and curiosity.
When I finally sit on the couch, rifle across my lap, the pull between us is a living thing.
I’ll keep her safe. And by the time this is over, she’ll know exactly who she belongs to.
The hours stretch. Ava drifts toward sleep but jerks awake at every gust of wind. I move to the bed without thinking, sitting on the edge and pulling her against my side. "Sleep. It’s okay.”
She melts into me, head on my chest, small hand fisting my shirt. Her breath evens out. My arm bands around her. The fire crackles. Snow lashes the windows. And for the first time in years something in my chest settles.
Come hell or cartel, I’m never letting her go.
3
Ava
Warmth wraps around me like the coziest blanket in the entire library romance section. I blink slowly into the soft morning light filtering through the cabin windows. My cheek presses against something solid and warm. Not a pillow. Definitely not a pillow. A heartbeat thuds steady and strong beneath my ear. Oh my goodness. I’m curled up against Jax Hartman like a sleepy kitten who has claimed her favorite mountain.
Heat floods my cheeks as the memories rush back. The attack at my apartment. Bullets and shattered glass. Jax scooping me up like I weighed nothing and carrying me to safety while returning fire like some action hero from my secret late night reads. And then last night. His arms around me on this very bed. His low voice murmuring that he had me. I must have fallen asleep like that. Clinging to a US Marshal who smells like pine and pure delicious danger.
I stay perfectly still for another second. Just breathing him in. My inner narrator is already drafting chapter titles likeSnuggled by the Grumpy ProtectorandWaking Up in Marshal Daddy'sArms. Not helpful right now Ava. Focus on not drooling on his shirt.
The scent of something amazing drifts from the small kitchen area. Buttery. Sweet. With a hint of vanilla. My stomach gives an enthusiastic growl that betrays me completely. Waffles. Actual waffles. In the middle of a blizzard hideout. Is this man trying to ruin me for all other breakfasts?
I sit up slowly. The heavy quilt pools around my waist. My fuzzy socks have stayed on somehow. Small victories. Jax stands at the kitchen counter with his back to me. Those broad shoulders stretch his dark thermal shirt in ways that should be illegal in all fifty states. Muscles flex as he works the waffle iron. His dark hair is slightly tousled from sleep or lack of it. He looks capable and focused and so ridiculously attractive that my brain short circuits.
"Good morning," I squeak. My voice comes out softer and breathier than I planned. I tug my oversized cardigan tighter around myself like it might hide how fast my heart races. "I... um... did I sleep on you all night? Because that would be mortifying and also kind of amazing and I’m so sorry if I stole all the blankets or elbowed you or anything."
Jax turns. Those intense eyes lock onto mine and something warm sparks in them. His jaw softens just a fraction. Not quite a smile. More like the promise of one. "Morning. You needed the rest. And I didn’t mind one bit."
He didn’t mind. My stomach does another happy flip that’s got nothing to do with hunger. I slide off the bed and pad across the wooden floor in my fuzzy socks. The cabin feels different in daylight. Cozy and rustic with the wood stove crackling gentlyand snow piled high against the windows. Safe. Even with cartel bad guys probably still out there somewhere.
The waffle iron hisses as Jax lifts the lid. Golden perfect waffles steam up at me. My mouth waters instantly. "You made waffles? In a remote mountain safe house? Are you secretly a breakfast wizard? Because I love waffles. Like... unreasonably so. I have a whole ranking system for them at home. Crispy edges. Fluffy inside. Real maple syrup if possible. These look championship level."
A low chuckle rumbles from his chest. The sound vibrates through me in the best way. "I love ‘em too. Learned to make them during long stakeouts. Keeps the energy up when you’re waiting for trouble." He plates two and slides them toward me across the counter. "Sit. Eat. Syrup’s on the table."
