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"God no." He squeezed his eyes shut. "You’re—no, nothing wrong." He opened his eyes and gripped my hips but didn’t pull me closer. He held me still. "I can’t do this. Not like this."

"Why?" I hissed. "I want you. I know you want me."

"I want you so much I can barely breathe," he admitted, the truth tearing out of his throat. "But you’re in the middle of a war. You’re running from a man who controlled you, hiding from the press, and living in my house because you have nowhere else to go."

I stared at him. My haze of lust was underlined by fierce, undeniable clarity. He was denying himself exactly what he wanted because he was trying to protect me. Nash had stripped my choices away. Ben was paralyzing himself to preserve them.

"I see. You’re playing the martyr again, like the other time we kissed. Stop it. Now."

"Sutton. It’s not that simple. I’m being careful."

"I don’t need careful." I cupped his face, my hands framing his face. "I need you. I need this. I’m an adult, Ben. I’m choosing you."

His chest rose and fell as he stared at me in open hunger. The rigid control he’d forced over his posture finally splintered. He let out a harsh, guttural exhale, his hands gripping harder on my hips. "If we go in that bedroom, the noble guy stays out here on the couch."

"I didn’t ask for the noble guy. I want you. All of you. Now.”

The last barrier completely crumbled. He stood in one fluid, effortless motion and lifted me off the couch. I wrapped my legs tightly around his torso, locking my ankles behind his back. As our lips locked together again, he carried me away from the flickering amber light of the living room and down the dark hallway.

Chapter Eighteen

BEN

Tropical Storm Isaac unleashed its fury against the cottage as I carried Sutton to my bedroom. The wind battered the shingle roof with the force of a runaway train, vibrating the entire house. Water seeped under the weather stripping of the front door but I didn’t pay any attention. My entire universe narrowed down to the woman in my arms.

Darkness consumed the short, narrow hallway. The blown transformer left the island in a blackout, forcing me to navigate by memory. Stepping over the threshold into my bedroom, I turned toward the center of the space and set her down on the edge of the mattress.

"Lift your arms," I ordered over the roar of the wind.

She complied instantly, lifting her arms. I grabbed the hem of the cream-colored sweater and hauled the soft fabric over her head, tossing the garment into the dark corner of the room. I didn’t care where it landed. I only cared about the woman in front of me.

I wrapped my fingers in the blonde hair at the nape of her neck, then yanked her head back. She gasped, offering her throat, but I bypassed it entirely and smashed my mouth against hers.

The meeting of our mouths was a desperate, bruising collision. She opened for me immediately, her tongue tangling with mine as she gripped my shoulders. I devoured her, drinking in the taste of salt and sweet skin while my free hand slid down her spine. I found the clasp of her bra, snapping it open with a quick twist of my fingers. I shoved the thin straps down her arms, letting the lace fall away and pulling her bare chest flush against mine. With a frenzied moan, she took a step back. Shoving her leggings down, she kicked the fabric across the floor until she stood before me in nothing but a scrap of cotton underwear.

I dropped to my knees in front of her. The position was pure worship, but the hunger driving my hands was absolutely primal. I slipped my thumbs under the elastic bands of her panties and dragged them slowly down her thighs, pulling them over her calves and ankles until she stepped free.

She was glorious standing above me, her bare skin radiating heat. Overcome, I pushed to my feet, crowding her into the edge of the mattress. I didn’t give her a single second to catch her breath. I dragged her up against my chest and brought my mouth down on hers once more, kissing her until the roaring wind outside completely faded into background noise. She met my urgency, kissing me back with a starving, breathless heat.

Reaching for the hem of my shirt, she pulled it up. Her knuckles brushed the hair on my stomach, sending a spear of heat straight to my groin. I stripped the shirt over my head and threw it onto the floor. Kicking my boots off, I left them scattered near the door, and my sweatpants and boxers followed.

A jagged flash of lightning pierced the slanted slats of the storm shutters. The erratic burst of light illuminated the bedroom for a second, casting stark, unforgiving shadows across my torso.

Insecurity spiked hot and sharp in my gut. I stood bare before her. My hands were rough, coated in thick callouses from hauling heavy fire hoses and gripping iron tools. My frame took up too much space in the small room. I was an oversized, scarred brute standing over a woman accustomed to pristine, curated perfection. Nash Calloway had polished her into a flawless diamond. I was rough, blunt force.

"You’re staring," she whispered, her voice husky.

"I’m trying to convince myself you’re real. That this is real."

Sutton silenced the doubt instantly. She didn’t shrink away with fear or recoil from the violent history etched into my skin. Instead, she stared at my body with starving need. “So strong. You’re incredible, Ben.”

She reached out, and her soft fingers traced the thick, uneven scar tissue across my lower ribs. The touch held pure reverence. She traced the lines as if reading braille, deciphering the history I tried so hard to hide, before grasping my hips and pulling me down to the bed.

I wanted to dismantle her remaining defenses entirely through pleasure. For ten years, Nash Calloway treated her body like corporate property, and I wanted to give it back to her. I pressed her backward onto the cool, air-conditioned sheets. She sank into the mattress, and I followed her down, caging her in with my arms to shield her. Holding my weight off her created a safe enclosure.

"I’ve wanted to do this for way too long," I confessed as I dragged my mouth along her jawline.

"Then stop talking and touch me."