Page 16 of Forbidden Passions

Goosebumps prickled down my arms. My body knew he was still there, even when I didn’t dare look. After what felt like forever, he moved away, the bedroom door opening and closing softly behind him.

I waited a few more seconds, then opened my eyes, releasing the breath I’d been holding. “Good morning to you too, mountain man,” I murmured to the empty room.

Max, who had been curled at my feet, yawned and stretched, looking at me with what I swore was amusement.

“Don’t judge me,” I told him, sitting up and running a hand through my tangled curls. “You’d have looked too.”

The smell of coffee drifted in from the main room, spurring me into action. I slipped out of bed, checking my borrowed clothes for decency. I had to admit the little imp in me had insisted that I would have been too hot if I’d slept in the sweatpants last night. I knew what I had hoped would happen. He’d catch a glimpse of my thick thigh and be overcome with lust.

That hadn’t happened. But I gave myself a pat on the back for trying.

I sighed as I pulled them back on. I would never have the body of temptress that drove a man to forget his good intentions.

But part of me wished I did. Not for vanity’s sake—but because I wanted to be the kind of woman who made Gabriel Holt forget why he’d locked his emotions away like a dragon hording gold.

I took a moment to use the bathroom and attempted to tame my hair, which had exploded into its full wild glory overnight. Without my usual products, it was a losing battle, so I settled for pulling it into a messy bun on top of my head.

Gabriel stood at the kitchen counter, his back to me, pouring coffee into two mugs. He’d added a flannel shirt over his t-shirt, but it hung open, still giving me a nice view of how the fabric stretched across that six pack of abs he carried around with him.

“Morning,” I said, aiming for casual and missing by a mile when my voice came out slightly husky.

He turned, coffee mugs in hand, eyes flicking briefly over my appearance before settling on my face. “Morning. Coffee?”

“Oh, yes.” I crossed to him, accepting the offered mug with a grateful smile. “Thanks.”

He checked the radio, muttered something about the roads still being closed. I barely heard him.

I was too busy trying not to look at the bruise-colored scar that peeked from the edge of his collar. Too busy wondering how many more he had.

I nodded, trying to ignore the little flip in my stomach at his words. Was it disappointment or anticipation? I honestly couldn’t tell.

After breakfast, Gabriel went to check on the generator again and took Max out again. I glanced around the cabin, taking it in properly for the first time. It was small but meticulously organized. Bookshelves lined one wall, filled with a surprising variety—military history, wilderness survival, but also classics, plus a few well-worn paperback thrillers. The books on his shelves weren’t just about survival. They were about endurance. About men who broke and rebuilt themselves from dust.

I could tell there had been repairs on the cabin. Floorboards that were new, trim around the windows. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he’d been making the cabin a home. Not in thesense a woman would—no fluffy pillows, flowers in a vase. I gave a little laugh. He didn’t even have a couch.

The furnishings were sparse but high quality. Everything functional, nothing frivolous. No photos, no personal mementos that I could see. The place felt like a fortress—not just against the elements, but against memories.

What was Gabriel Holt running from?

I sat in the armchair and immediately felt like his arms had wrapped around me. The sleeves of his t-shirt fell past my elbows. I brought the fabric to my nose, inhaling the scent I’d already come to associate with him. It made my insides twist with a hunger that had nothing to do with food.

I wanted him. I could admit that to myself now, alone in his space. I wanted to be the thing that made him break his rules. That made him need.

Get it together, Callie. He clearly wants nothing to do with you.

Except... that wasn’t entirely true, was it? I hadn’t imagined the tension in his body when he’d finally came to bed. There was definitely something simmering beneath that stoic exterior.

When Gabriel returned, soaked despite the short trip to the generator shed, I insisted he take a hot shower to warm up. The look of surprise on his face at my concern was almost comical, as if no one had fussed over him in years.

While he showered—and I tried very hard not to think about water cascading over all those muscles—I sighed at the fact that I didn’t have camera equipment with me. I could do a full blown exhibit with pictures of Gabriel. The ex-military hero turned broody mountain man.

Of course, that reminded me he was here for a reason.

Reasons that had hurt him.

Reasons that probably haunted him. That probably still lived under his skin, no matter how many push-ups he did to sweat them out.

He came back into living room, his hair still slightly wet, curling just a little at the temples. “So, what does one do in a cabin during a never-ending storm?” I knew I had a few suggestions of how we could pass the time.

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