“You trying to get mauled by a bear?” Mason calls, his voice several yards ahead of me. Half his body has disappeared in the fog. Two more feet and he’d been invisible to me.

  I hurry to catch up to him. “We’re not going to find—”

  A cabin appears through the fog. With each step, its outline is clearer. It’s … small. Mason rattles the knob, and to my surprise, the door opens. He stands on the landing, his large frame taking up most of its space, and waves an arm inside. “After you.”

  I take a cautious step and linger on the stair below him, resisting the urge to latch onto him. “How do you know it’s empty?”

  He waits until I’m leaning across the threshold to say, “I don’t.” When I recoil and nearly stumble backward, his strong arm catches my back. The heat of his touch is almost enough to drown out the sound of laughter. Almost.

  “Jerk.” I push at his hard chest, but it’s me who teeters unevenly. I lose my balance and slips backward again.

  Mason’s strong arms yank me against him, my cheek smashing into his hard, delicious chest. That intoxicating cologne clouds my senses. I feel his heart pound rapidly against my ear. I should move, but I’ve missed the warmth of his embrace and selfishly want to steal what little of it I can. “When did you get so clumsy?”

  Reality snaps me back to my senses. “I’m not clumsy.” I wriggle free and march inside the cabin before I can trip a third time. “It’s just—”

  “Just what?” His low, gruff voice tickles my ear.

  “There’s only one bed. One very small bed.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Mason

  The fishing cabin intended for one is too small. Hell, the state of Alaska feels too small knowing Willow is in it again. Being this close to her rewires my brain. I’ve never stopped loving her. Never stopping believing she’d come back in my life, despite everyone telling me to move on. Once Gran gets wind of Willow being back, I’ll no doubt get a lecture about keeping the fuck away.

  But I don’t care.

  Willow’s always been mine. Only mine.

  If I’m going to convince her to stay though, I need to get my fucking head on straight.

  “That took you long enough,” Willow says when I return with an armful of firewood for the wood stove. It may be summer, but the nights out here are chilly. Since the odds of us keeping each other warm tonight are mixed, we need another heat source.

  “I didn’t hear you volunteering.”

  She presses her lips together, as if trapping whatever she really wants to say behind them. Probably better this way. If we go at each other, even over something mundane, it’ll end in sex. Hate sex. Really fucking hot hate sex…

  “Mason?”

  “Mmm?” I ask without turning around. Focusing on the stove is the only thing keeping my mind—and my dick—in check.

  “How clean are these sheets?”

  I know they’re clean. These are my fishing cabins, and I have a well-oiled system. When I pick up passengers, they bring any used linen with them. I leave a clean set in each cabin in an air-tight container. Along with a pillow and single green wool blanket, reminiscent of my Army days. But I’m not about to tell Willow about the empire I’ve created in her absence. Not yet.

  “This isn’t a five-star hotel, babe.”

  I hear her shake out the folded sheet behind me, and steal a glance while she’s busy. She’s skinnier than when she left three years ago, but at least some of those delicious curves have survived the impossible Hollywood standards. Curves I’m dying to get my hands on.

  “Don’t fishermen use sleeping bags?”

  Most of my guests don’t mind sleeping bags, but enough of them have expressed their gratitude for the upgraded option. “You want a sleeping bag? Because I’m not walking back to the plane to get one.”

  “You have a sleeping bag and didn’t bring it? What if we were sleeping outside?”

  I feel the heat of her furious gaze burning into my back, warning me I’m about to get caught. The chemistry in the cabin sizzles a little hotter. One fight. That’s all it’d take for clothes to get ripped and my cock to be shoved inside her tight pussy. I offer up a half truth, hoping to keep things calm. “I fly groups out here. I knew the cabins were close.”

  “Convenient,” she says flatly.

  With a fire going strong in the wood stove, I leave it for the only chair. The cushions are worn and torn in places, but it sure as hell beats the folding chairs that were here before. “You’d rather sleep outside?”

  Willow lets out a sigh, and her shoulders slump. “No.”

  I know her well enough to know something is on her mind. Something big. Hell, we’ve been together since we were fifteen. I know everything about her. Except I didn’t predict her jilting me at the altar. I resist the urge to coax the truth out of her and unlace my boots.

  Willow slips beneath the covers, turning her back to me.

  My eyes fall closed, but I don’t sleep. How the fuck could I? My cock is throbbing. It’s pissed at me for holding back.

  My mind races with questions I’ve longed to ask—How long is she staying? What is her life like in California? Is there some undeserving asshole waiting for her back there? If I let Willow see how much I fucking care—how desperate I am to have her stay—I’ll lose her for good.

  “Mason?”

  “Hmm?” I ask without opening my eyes.

  “You can’t sleep in that old chair all night.”

  “Bed’s too small.” Which is bullshit. A few years ago, that would’ve been the highlight. There’s plenty of room when two bodies are fused together as one.

  “The hell it is.” The familiar feistiness causes my eyes to snap open. She’s staring at me, those brown eyes dangerous as ever with their mixture of annoyance and liquid heat. “Stop being a prude.”

  “If I get in that bed, babe, a prude is the last thing I’m going to be.” I’ll be buried inside her, making her scream with ecstasy. It’s all the bear protection we’d need. My half-hard cock stands at full attention. “Go to sleep.”

  Several beats of silence pass before I hear her faint voice again. “Mason?”

  I pretend to be asleep, letting exhaustion finally take over. It’s been a long fucking day with multiple flights. This was the last one. I was supposed to be home in my own bed. Too tired to wonder what Willow was doing in LA or if she was missing me. Not stranded with her, contemplating how to make her stay—for good.

  CHAPTER 5

  Willow

  “What was that?” I shoot up in bed at a thunk against the cabin.

  Mason is passed out in the corner chair. I get lost in studying his features and yearn to comb my fingers through his beard. To feel the bristled hairs rubbing against my inner thighs as his mouth performs miracles between my legs.

  I shimmy out of my faux leather leggings, refusing to think this through. Sleeping with my ex was not part of the plan. But does this count? If it’s just the two of us in one cabin and no one ever knows? Once upon a time, Mason loved being woken up to me naked in his lap.

  Just as I’m pulling my shirt over my head, I hear it again—thunk—and scream.

  Mason shoots up from his chair, immediately on his feet, and collides into me. It takes him a few seconds to shake the daze of sleep. His gaze lands on my lips and refuses to budge. A warm hand drops to my hip, and I shiver. How long have I craved his touch?

  Another thunk and another squeal from me seems to tug him out of his lustful trance. His eyes ice over. “You woke me up.” He drags his gaze up and down, muttering fuck when he notices my bare legs. “What the fuck, Willow? Did you think you were going to seduce me in my sleep?”

  The words sting.

  They should. I deserve it after what I did—what I have yet to apologize for. Which I’m totally going to do. In the morning. “I—”

  Thunk.

  Mason marches to the door and yanks it open. I cower by the bed, unable to see whatever creature is causing that noise. I’m not trying to get eaten by a bear. Just as I’m about to ask what it is, I hear shuffling feet. “Fucking moose,” he mutters, slamming the door. He looks at me, his eyes narrowed. “It’s gone now.”

  “Oh.” I bite my bottom lip, feeling very stupid for taking off my pants. “I thought it was a bear.”

  “A bear?” he mocks.

  “What?” I snap back, feeling defensive. “There are bears out here.”

  “It was antlers bumping against the cabin. You’d know that if you hadn’t run off and turned all city slicker.”

  A new fire burns in my chest, anger-fueled and scorching hot. I forgot how cranky Mason could be when he’s woken up unexpectedly. I take a step closer so I can poke a finger right in the center of his chest. “You don’t have to be an asshole.”

  “Me?” He grabs my hip and yanks me to him. “I’m the asshole?”

  It doesn’t matter that he has a point. I’m fired up in too many ways to back down. Too close to his hard body and hot breath. His erection brushing my hip. The sex was always hottest after a fight. I didn’t realize how desperate I was for it until this moment. “You didn’t have to yell at me.” I smack his chest, but I don’t move my hand.

  “Willow,” he growls a warning, his tone a mixture of frustration and desire.

  “What?” I demand, digging my fingernails into his shirt. “I’m so fucking tired of people being mean!”

  “This isn’t the part where I turn into a nice, understanding guy,” he warns. His eyes are molten with desire. “If you don’t back down, I’m going to punish you. There’ll be nothing nice about the way I fuck you.”

  I shiver at his words, the mere possibility they promise. I lean in, pushing my chin against his chest as I trap his gaze. “Do your worst,” I dare, hoping he’s not working me up only to let me down. I need this. The tortured look in his eyes suggests he does too. I lean toward the bed, only to be yanked in the opposite direction.

  In seconds, he flips the chair around and bends me over it. My panties are ripped off with enough force to rock the chair on its back legs. But its tipped back on all fours when Mason pushes a palm into my back.

  I hear the yank of zipper. The only warning before he pushes my thighs apart with a knee and plunges into me all at once. I cry out louder than the scream that woke him up. But it’s not a cry of fear or pain. Oh no. It’s a homecoming. A pleasure overload.

  “I knew you’d be wet,” he growls, pummeling me from behind, his balls slapping my sensitive skin with each forceful thrust. “But I didn’t expect you to be so fucking tight.”

  “I haven’t been sleeping around if that’s what you mean.” My words come out disjointed, between thrusts. I almost confess that there’s been no one, but he reaches around my hips and presses two firm fingers to my swollen button and shows it no mercy. Rendering me unable to use words. Only passionate cries and moans escape my lips.

  “Come on my dick, Willow. Come hard.”

  My orgasm is explosive. It rocks my entire body and I start to fall forward into the chair. He catches me by the hips. “That’s it. Milk my cock, babe.” He doesn’t slow his savage pace. Hate sex was always like this. No moments to catch our breath between climaxes.

  He slaps my ass once, and I nearly go blind with pleasure. I forgot how fucking much I loved being punished by him.

  “Come for me again,” he orders, thrusting harder. “Then I’m going to re-stake my claim. Remind you who you’ll always belong to.”

  I come apart on command. My second orgasm more powerful than the first. I release a series of cries in octaves I only reach with Mason. A wave of incomprehensible pleasure ripples through me, as if I’m leaving my body.

  God, I’ve missed this.

  Mason stills at last, emptying his cock inside me. “Mine,” he growls.

  CHAPTER 6

  Mason

  I check my gauges, letting out a discreet exhale as I prepare to land my Cessna on a grassy airstrip outside Caribou Creek. I glance sideways, wondering if she heard my relief, but she’s staring out the window like I don’t exist.

  Not that I can blame her. Since the moment I pulled my cock out of her tight pussy last night, I’ve been coldhearted and distant. And it’s fucking taxed me to no end.

  The short fifteen-minute flight to town has been filled with tense silence. There’s hurt in her eyes that I’m trying like hell to ignore. Trying to pretend it isn’t gutting me. Which isn’t fucking fair when she’s the one who left me standing at the altar.

  Willow Gray has always been mine. Will always be mine. No amount of time or distance can ever change that. But if I want to keep her with me for good, she needs to want it as badly as I do. Which is why I’ve resorted to asshole mode.

  “Was there a fire?” she asks, her eyes fixed on a few hundred acres of charred spruce.

  “Last year.”

  “That close to town?” Her tone betrays her concern. Even if she pretends she hates this town, I know deep down she cares about it and the people in it.

  Caribou Creek is our home. The place we were both born and raised. The setting of our love story. I clear my throat, shoving down everything sentimental and mutter out a response as we descend. “Some jackass tourist started a campfire when we were in a drought.”

  She grips the purse in her lap so tightly her knuckles turn white. “The whole town could’ve burned down.”

  “Yeah.” It took every able-bodied man and volunteer firefighter, plus a couple smokejumper crews out of Fort Wainwright, to get it knocked down. And then impossibly long shifts of hotspotting before we even got to the mop up. It was a long fucking week. If it hadn’t been for Gran, I doubt I would’ve eaten more than beef jerky.

  “Mason, I owe you an ap—”

  The wheels hit solid ground, jerking the plane a bit. Interrupting the apology Willow was about to make. Though she owes me one, I’m not letting her off the hook that easy. Her apology doesn’t mean shit until she sees the full damage her abrupt departure caused. I’m not the only one in town she hurt.

  “Mason—”

  “Look,” I say, turning my tone to ice though it fucking kills me. “Last night was just a good fuck. What we both needed to get each other out of our system.”

  Hurt flashes in her eyes, making me feel like the asshole I am. But I know Willow inside and out. If I cave too easily, she’ll take me and this town for granted once again and run off the first chance she gets. She hardens her expression, staring straight ahead at the couple of vehicles waiting. “That’s all it was then?”

  “Now we can stay out of each other’s way until you leave.” I turn my frigid stare on her. “You aren’t staying, are you?”

  “No.”

  After we roll to a complete stop, I cut the engine. I’m hardly out of the plane before Gran comes rushing up. For a woman nearing eighty, her power walking skills are impressive. She’s wearing her purple track suit and a fake smile no one in their right mind would trust. To say she has some opinions about Willow Gray’s abrupt exit is an understatement.

  “I was so worried about you!” She wraps her arms around my waist and squeezes tight, her head hardly reaching my lower chest. I hug her back.

  “Just some unexpected weather, Gran.”

  With another squeeze and a wiggle, she lets go. “People disappear that way, you know.”

  The exaggerated concern in her voice is no doubt from binge-watching Alaska reality shows. For a woman who’s lived here all her life, she’s sure obsessed with those. Even if most of them are dramatized and unrealistic. “I thought you had a bridge game last night.”

  “I didn’t go. I was too sucked in to watching Disappearing in Alaska. Besides, ever since Rose won—” Gran’s sentence drops off the second she catches sight of Willow coming around the plane. “You.”

  “Hi, Maggs.”

  “Oh no.” Gran waggles an enthusiastic finger. “You don’t get to call me that anymore. It’s Mrs. Reid.”

  Willow flinches, as though she’d been slapped. It took years for Gran to grant Willow permission to call her Maggs. Not until after we were engaged. Out of everyone in Caribou Creek that Willow hurt, Gran will be her biggest challenge. “I’m sorry—”

  “There you are.” Kinley Gray, one of Willow’s sisters, marches up to the plane. She looks almost as peeved as Gran. “Do you own a phone?”

  “Yes—”

  “Did you think to check in? Tell anyone you were coming?” Kinley snaps. “I had to find out you were stranded from Hattie Kohl at the diner. I didn’t even know if you’d left LA or were coming at all.”

  “That’s not fair,” Willow interjects, pulling her phone out of her purse. Reminding me of the way I found her in the air terminal yesterday.

  “You were on the phone when I found you yesterday. Just who were you talking to then if not your family?” I shouldn’t care, but the question slips out anyway. Because it was either some boy toy back in the city or someone involved with her acting career. I’ve been curious since the moment she ended that call but didn’t want her to know I cared.

  “My agent,” she answers, narrowing her gaze at her sister, but refusing to look at me. Interesting.

  “Lining up another hemorrhoid cream commercial?” Gran cackles.

  Willow looks scandalized, and it takes every ounce of fight to keep a smile off my lips. To continue playing the asshole.

  “A movie role, actually. The lead.”

  “Oh?” Gran feigns interest.

  “We need to go. Now!” Kinley grabs Willow’s elbow and tugs at her hard enough to unsteady her planted feet. The two used to be really close, but it’s evident that relationship has frayed over time. In fact, the three Gray sisters are all but estranged these past three years according to local gossip. Rumors I always pretend not to overhear at the diner. But, let’s be honest, you can’t exactly unhear that shit.

  Willow flickers her gaze to me, a mixture of irritation and hurt causing a blue storm.

 

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