Page 14 of Garrett

“Hands there,” I growl. “Don’t move.”

She shivers, but not from the cold.

I grip her hips and thrust into her from behind, groaning at the way she takes me so deep, her tight, slick heat sucking mein. My hands spread across her waist, holding her in place as I drive into her, relentless, my eyes locked on the way my cock disappears inside her over and over again.

“Fuck, baby,” I rasp, one hand tangling in her wet hair, tugging her head back. “You were made for me.”

She cries out, back arching, her walls clenching around me.

“That’s right,” I praise, voice rough. “Come for me, Rachel.”

Her whole body tightens, and then she’s screaming my name, her orgasm ripping through her. The way she pulses around me, so damn tight and wet, drags me over the edge. I thrust hard, my vision going white as pleasure crashes through me.

I throw my head back and roar, hips jerking as I spill inside her, my entire body shaking from the force of it.

For a long moment, all I can hear is the water pounding around us, our ragged breathing mixing with the steam.

I press my forehead against the back of her neck, kissing her damp skin as I catch my breath. “Holy shit.”

She lets out a breathless laugh, still trembling against me. “Yeah.”

I wrap my arms around her, pulling her against me, and press a kiss to her temple. “So much for making that omelet.”

She grins, tilting her head up to look at me. “Who needs food when I have you?”

I chuckle, tightening my hold on her. “Careful, sweetheart. Keep saying things like that, and we’ll be stuck in this shower all damn day.”

Her smile turns wicked. “I wouldn’t complain.”

Damn. This girl is making me crazy.

Chapter 7

Rachel

Through the window, I spot Ryder’s truck winding up the snow-covered drive to the cabin we’re currently renovating. The fourth one - and the one that’s needed the most work.

“Your brother’s here,” Garrett calls from where he’s installing the last of the kitchen cabinets. His shirt clings to his shoulders, and I force myself to look away. After last night, it’s too easy to get distracted.

Ryder bounds in, tracking snow across my newly cleaned floors. “Look at you two domestic goddesses!” He surveys the transformed kitchen. “Damn, Garrett. You do good work.”

“Thanks for the stamp of approval,” Garrett says dryly. “Now get your boots off my clean floor before your sister kills you.”

“I guess they won’t be ‘your floors’ for much longer. You must have other jobs lined up by now, right Garrett?” Ryder’s stepping back to remove his boots.

My heart stops as Garrett answers without missing a beat.

“Got that ranch restoration in Colorado. Owner’s been calling weekly to confirm I’m still coming when this job is over.”

The dish towel in my hands twists tight. I’d known this was temporary. Known he was just passing through. But hearing him discuss leaving so easily, like these past weeks were just another job.

My hand trembles slightly as Garrett’s words echo in my head. Colorado. Of course he’s going to Colorado. That’s what he does - moves from job to job, never staying, never settling. I’ve known this from the beginning.

So why does it feel like someone just punched me in the chest?

I force myself to keep wiping the counter, grateful that my hair falls forward to hide my face. But I can’t block out their voices as Garrett describes the ranch project, talking about structural challenges and renovation timelines with the same enthusiasm he showed for my cabins. My cabins that will soon just be another completed job in his rearview mirror.

The rational part of my brain reminds me this is business. He’s a contractor. I hired him to do a job. The fact that somewhere between arguing about historic windows and sharing storm-swept nights, I started falling for him... that’s my problem, not his.

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