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“If you keep doing that…” He stares at my mouth. “I’ll bite it myself.”

“Is that your kink? Biting?”

“One of many.”

Flames lick beneath my skin, but I stay focused. “Why is this supply run so important? The pantries are full. You brought back all that meat.”

“It’s not enough to sustain four grown men and a woman through the winter. We need more grains and other non-perishables to supplement the meat. And we need other things, too, like more logs for firewood to heat the cabin.”

“I thought the hydroelectric generator powers the furnace and water heater?”

“It does. Until something breaks, and he can’t fly the plane to retrieve a part to fix it. Without the sun through those months, we don’t have solar power. We can switch to our wood-heated hot water and hearths. It’s happened twice before. Not fun. But the backup system kept us alive.”

“Let me guess. We don’t have enough wood right now for that scenario.”

“No, we don’t. Even if we start conserving now, it won’t be enough.”

“We would die? Like literally freeze to death?”

“The winters here aren’t survivable without heat.”

“What about coal? You have coal stoves.”

“Yes, and there are coal deposits down river in an interior basin. It’s a dangerous hike in the winter, but it can be done.”

“Denver sent Wolf for coal while you were gone.”

“What? Denver sent him alone?” His nostrils flare. “It’s in wolf territory, and if a storm had come…”

“I think Denver was looking for any reason to send Wolf away.”

To keep me in his room, in his bed, without Wolf’s constant hammering on the door.

My stomach sinks.

“It’s not your fault.” He lifts my chin with an ice-cold finger. “It won’t happen again.”

“Okay.” I lean into him.

“The only thing we have in abundance through the winter is cold. Eternal, lethal cold. That’s why these supply runs are so critical. We need Denver to get more wood, fuel for the snow machines and dirt bike, medicine, and enough food to supplement the caribou meat we brought back and the pemmican we kept at the hunting cabin.”

“What pemmican?”

“Denver doesn’t know about that. We kept it there as a backup.”

“For when I kill him.”

“We need him alive, Frankie. He’s not just our pilot. He’s our only engineer. When the hydroelectric generator fails or requires maintenance—and it does often—he’s the only one who can work on it.”

“I assume there’s no instruction manual.” I grind my teeth.

“He designed it. The only instructions in existence are the ones in his head.”

“Another insurance policy to keep his sons from slitting his throat.”

“It’s an effective one.”

“What’s his retirement plan? You’re twenty years younger than him. Even if he dies by natural causes, you’ll outlive him. Then what?”

“He’ll take us to the grave with him.”

“The fuck he will!”

He smiles—such a rare and stunning twist of lips. I don’t trust it.

“What?” I frown.

“You have a pretty little temper. Even when you sleep, you aim these beauties at the world.” He traces the lines between my eyebrows.

“They’re called frown lines, and for future reference, women don’t like when they’re pointed out.” I frown harder. “You watch me while I sleep.”

“You have nightmares. Do you fight demons?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact. One of them spanked me tonight.”

“You require discipline.”

Where did this man come from?

I shake my head, heart pounding. “You’ve never been with a woman.”

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Kody.”

“Frankie.”

“What are we doing?”

“Stealing a moment.”

He swoops in, stealing more than a moment. With his hands in my hair, he steals my air, raids my defenses, and plunders my mouth.

I should stop him. I should punch him. But I won’t. I would never.

Because the moment his lips touch mine is the absolute number one thing in my barely alive life.

48

Frankie


Kody bears down on me, all teeth and hunger and testosterone, liquefying my bones and electrocuting my heart with each demanding stroke of his tongue.

Good lord, he knows how to kiss. Hard to believe he’s never been with a woman, never let himself lick and bite and explore with passion. Because his passion…the intensity of him, the searing fever in him, the intoxicating taste of him—this man overwhelmingly radiates masculine energy.

I feel him everywhere, like a roaring blaze from my nose to my toes and in all the bones between. All I can do is hold on and try to keep up, answering each soul-sucking, mouthwatering kiss with my own, unable to give enough, unable to touch enough.

Too many layers separate us. Too much coldness surrounds us. All the more reason to burrow deeper.

Astride his lap, with my hands roaming and lips searching, we’re closer than we’ve ever been, and it’s not enough.

I’m aching. I’m heedless. For the first time in weeks, I’m back in my skin.

I’m me.

Maybe I’m not broken.

Maybe Denver didn’t kill my fire.

Maybe I just let it gutter out for a minute while I waited in the dark. Waited until it was…

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