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"Get off me, you traitor!" Ellen screamed, trying to shove Rick off, but he pinned her arms with an ease that spoke of hidden strength.
"Got her!" he yelled, and relief flooded through me like high tide.
"Hold her 'til the cops get here."
"Consider it done." Rick grunted, securing Ellen's wrists.
I turned back to Hannah, shocked that the dogs had calmed now. They still paced and snarled, but I was able to approach her without interference.
"Sawyer," Hannah cried, tears streaming down her face as I dropped to my knees in front of her
"Hey, hey, it's okay," I soothed, cutting through the rope with the knife. "I've got you."
As the rope gave way, she lifted her arms, wrapping them around my neck as I pulled her against me. Her warmth seeped into me, her scent, her presence—it was the balm to all the madness.
"Always have to play the hero, huh?" she whispered, her voice hoarse but still the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard.
"Always," I said, pressing my lips to her forehead.
The dogs continued to circle around us, but without their cruel mistress, they'd lost direction and the fight left them.
Hannah spoke a command in German and the dogs laid down.
"See? They were just following orders."
"How the hell do you know German?"
She laughed, nuzzling against my neck. "I'll teach you later. We should definitely adopt a dog."
I kissed her head, my heart finally settling to a steady rhythm. "Whatever you want, baby."
The woods around us faded into nothingness. It was just Hannah and me—the ebb and flow of our relief, our need, crashing and retreating like waves. And in that moment, I knew. We were in this forever.
thirty-seven
HANNAH
The first lightof dawn spilled over the ocean, painting the sky in strokes of pink and gold. I was nestled against Sawyer's chest, my head tucked under his chin, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The porch swing creaked softly with our shared weight, back and forth, as if it were rocking us deeper into this tranquil world we'd built together.
"Think the fish are biting this early?" I mused aloud, watching the horizon come alive.
"Only one way to find out," Sawyer replied, his voice a low rumble against the shell of my ear. "But something tells me you're not here for the fishing tips."
"Guilty as charged," I admitted with a giggle, tilting my head to look up at him. Our eyes met, and there was that familiar spark—a connection so strong it felt like a live wire zapped between us.
His love washed over me, leaving me breathless and wanting more. My hands found their way to his hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. His beard tickled my skin, sending shivers down my spine.
"God, Sawyer," I murmured when we finally broke apart, chests heaving. "What is it about you?"
"Same thing that's got me hooked on you," he said, his honey brown eyes smoldering. He tasted of salt and promise, and as his hands roamed over the curve of my hips, I knew we wouldn't make it inside for a while.
We were tangled limbs and whispered confessions as the sun climbed higher, igniting the sky with flames of daylight. It was raw and it was real—us, bare and open, giving and taking, waves of pleasure cresting and breaking over us until we were both left adrift, clinging to each other in the aftermath of the storm.
And as the world around us woke up, I realized that I never wanted to wake up anywhere but right here, with Sawyer, where every morning felt like a revelation.
* * *
The scent of freshly baked quiches filled the cozy kitchen of our seaside cottage, while Sawyer mixed a tray of fancy mocktails. I hummed along to the soft music playing in the background and checked the oven.
