The drive to the Blackthorn lumber mill was quiet, charged with unspoken promises.
Luke’s truck rumbled along the narrow forest road, one hand on the wheel, the other resting possessively on Elena’s thigh. Every few minutes his thumb would stroke slow circles over the denim, sending little sparks of heat straight to her core. He didn’t speak much, but the tension in his jaw and the occasional low growl rumbling in his chest told her exactly how hard he was fighting for control.
Elena’s heart raced. She had never felt so wanted — so hunted — in her life. The leather pouch around her neck felt warm against her skin, as if it too sensed the storm building between them.
When they pulled up to a private cabin tucked behind the main mill buildings, Luke killed the engine and turned to her. Mo
