Page 31 of Forbidden Passions

Not yet, I told myself. Don’t scare him. Not when he’s already looking at the horizon like he’s planning how far to run. Instead, I said, “Thanks for bringing me out here.”

He looked at me, startled. “It was your idea.”

“I know.” I smiled. “Thanks for not saying no.”

He hesitated, then offered a rare, crooked smile. “You don’t give me much choice, sweetheart.”

We turned back toward the trail, walking slowly, his fingers brushing mine but never quite holding on.

And I was starting to wonder if he ever would.

CHAPTER TEN

Gabriel

I was startled from sleep. Not from a sound or another dream.

But because I’d slept so long. My internal clock told me it was almost dawn, hours after I usually woke up. I realized instantly what had changed.

Callie.

Callie curled against my side, her hair tickling my chin, her arm draped across my chest again. In the dim light, I studied her sleeping face—relaxed, peaceful, impossibly beautiful.

And that scared the ever-loving hell out of me.

Because she didn’t belong here.

She didn’t belong to me.

I’d lost count of how many times I’d woken up in this bed alone. How many times I’d convinced myself I preferred it that way. Silence, solitude, routine. No expectations. No surprises.

She’d come crashing into my life, demanding entrance. And nothing felt simple anymore.

I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t want it, or at least that’s what I’d kept telling myself.

It wasn’t just the sex—though fuck knows that had exceeded anything I could have imagined—but this. The intimacy. The way she’d somehow slipped past every defense I’d built over the last few years of careful isolation and really my whole damn life.

It wasn’t supposed to matter. Just one night. One distraction. That one night had turned to two, then three. And now… every time I looked at her, all I could think was, don’t go.

I’d worshipped her body like it was the only thing that mattered—and maybe it was. But what the hell was I supposed to do now? She wasn’t mine. Not really. Just a woman stranded in a storm, a temporary visitor in a life I’d deliberately emptied of anything soft.

I shifted carefully, easing out from beneath her arm, trying not to wake her. Max lifted his head from where he was curled near the bed, his eyes tracking me like he already knew what I was doing.

And maybe he did. Maybe the damn dog could smell regret.

I pulled on sweatpants and a shirt and moved through the cabin, silent and restless. I needed air. Space. Something to drown out the echo of her voice, her laugh, her soft gasps still ringing in my ears.

We’d spent the day yesterday cleaning up after the storm. No trees had come down, but branches covered the clearing. I’d watched her working without complaint, playing with Max and healing parts of me I never thought would heal.

I stepped out onto the porch once again. It seemed like I’d repeated this day forever. Fog drifted between the trees like smoke. It was beautiful. Quiet. Exactly what I used to crave.

And for the first time in a long time, it felt hollow.

I gripped the railing and stared into the distance, trying to shove her out of my thoughts. Trying—and failing—to remind myself this had been temporary. That she’d leave today, and everything would go back to normal.

But I didn’t want normal. Not anymore.

And that scared the shit out of me. Because if I let myself want something, I could lose it. Again. She’d changed somethingin me, just by being here. Just by looking at me like I was worth saving.

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