Chapter 18: The Station

Lorena's POV

The ranger station at mile eleven had a tin roof, a water tank, and a bunk room with a window unit that rattled.

Brice turned it on high and stood in the middle of the floor without a word.

"You can say no," he said. "At any point."

"I know."

"I mean it."

"I know you do."

I crossed the room and put my hands flat on his chest.

His heart was going hard against my palm.

"I walked a mile," I said. "I took a rule off the table. And I would like you to stop being a gentleman for about an hour."

His eyes went dark.

"An hour."

"We'll see how long it takes."

He laughed, low and shaken, and then his hands were on my face and his mouth was on mine.

It was nothing like the kiss at the gate.

That one had been asking.

This one took.

He backed me into the cot until my knees hit the frame, and his hand went under the hem of my hoodie and found my bare waist.

I gasped.

His palm was hot and rough, and it moved up my ribs one slow inch at a time.

"You're warm," he said against my throat.

"I know. I'm never warm."

"You're burning."

"Then do something about it."

He pulled the hoodie over my head and dropped it on the floor.

For three years, I had worn it so nobody would see how thin I was.

Brice looked at me in the gray light from the window and said, very quietly, "God."

"I'm not what I was," I said, and I hated how my voice shook. "I've been sick a long time."

"Lorena."

"I want you to see what you're getting."

"I see you," he said, and his voice cracked in the middle. "Every inch of you was in my head before you ever let me touch your hand."

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