Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 56624 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56624 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
“Didn’t say that,” he murmurs. Quiet. Deadly.
The silence stretches as water still drips from him, tapping against the floor. Then he shakes his head. “Some of the clients I have… they’re dangerous. They demand anonymity. If you came near them, if they saw you…” His voice cuts off. He doesn’t need to finish.
My arms fold across my chest, armor against the chill racing through me. “What did you do to Jake?”
His eyes flicker—guilt, a shadow—but no retreat.
“I need answers, Owen,” I push. “The snow’s melting. Our time’s running out. And I can’t go back to pretending I was okay without you. Pretending any other man meant a damn thing. Pretending I wanted to be alone.” My voice cracks, low but steady. “I don’t want anyone else. I want you. But I want the truth.”
His scowl deepens. He steps closer, the towel shifting dangerously, water still dripping from his hair. His bare feet are silent on the tile.
“Had a conversation with him,” he says at last. And I know two things: First, he’s telling the truth, and second, a “conversation” with Jake would’ve been borderline illegal. His gaze doesn’t flinch. His jaw is tight, guilty but steady.
“Heard he wasn’t treating you well. So I went to his workplace.” A pause, then his mouth hardens. “Told him he was never to contact you again unless you initiated it, and it was time to sign those fucking papers.”
My breath catches. “When?”
“The day before I came here,” he whispers.
And that’s it. That explains everything. The sudden silence. Jake’s texts cut off.
“How did you know what he did to me?” My voice is sharper now, demanding.
Owen folds his arms, biceps flexing, chest rising—a wall of muscle and menace. And he stares at me like he already knows the answer I’ll hate.
The cabin’s too warm. Fire snaps in the fireplace as steam curls off his bare shoulders.
We shouldn’t be having this conversation while he’s shirtless. It isn’t fair. I cross my arms, trying to focus.
Not on the way his hair’s still damp from the shower or the way one droplet rolls all the way down his sharp, tight jawline. Not on the veins in his forearms, or the dangerous look or warning.
“I saw the signs,” Owen says calmly, like none of this touches him. “Your posts. His patterns. Didn’t take long to figure it out.”
He glances away, his jaw ticking. “I may’ve been… following him.”
My stomach drops. “What? Owen?” I shake my head.
He mutters, almost smiling, “I knew about the affair. Affairs,” he says pointedly. Then, sharper, “But even if I had come to you, told you flat-out… Emma, be honest. Would you have believed me?”
I swallow. My lips feel dry. I shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
He watches me a beat too long.
“I went to him. I told him to sign the papers. Said he could fuck whoever he wanted. But he was never, never to touch you again, come near you again, or contact you.”
“You did that?”
My thoughts are spinning. Too many voices in my head at once—his, mine, Jake’s.
“I don’t even know how I feel about this,” I whisper. “I don’t know how I should.” But that’s a lie. I do feel something. Too much. Rage. Awe. A twisted sense of relief at being wanted this violently.
I should be scared. Am I? I shake my head. “And when are you going to tell me the truth about your work?”
Silence. Just the hiss of the fire and the pulse pounding in my neck.
“Never,” he snaps.
“Owen—”
“Emma. I told you. It’s not about keeping you in the dark. It’s about keeping you alive. If you know too much, you’re in danger.”
I push off the wall and step toward him until the air between us vanishes. Close enough to breathe each other in. Close enough that I’m in his orbit and in danger of being incapable of making a rational decision.
“Owen,” I say again. Then, before I can stop myself… “I’m already in danger. Because I love you.”
His eyes soften.
“You do?”
“Of course I do.” My voice drops to a whisper. “I’ve loved you for years. I thought you knew.”
His mouth parts. A soundless breath. Then—
“How the fuck would I know that? You married that loser.”
“I told you why I did that. I—”
He leans in, cutting me off and kissing me. I can taste the longing, the yearning, the need. It’s the kind of kiss that tastes like all the years we lost.
We don’t stop until the light outside dims and his hair’s drying in messy waves. When he pulls back, his hand stays wrapped around the back of my neck.
“I want to do right by you,” he says, his voice hoarse. “Whatever that means.”
I swallow hard, my hand on his broad shoulder to steady me and make my point. “Then be honest. You threatened my ex without telling me. You’re still hiding things about your work.”