HER FEET HIT THE WOOD floor in the bedroom above me.

For the past hour, she’d been tossing and turning, and I’d heard every single shift of the bed, but now she was up and moving.

I glanced at the stairs.

You didn’t serve five tours downrange and not get attuned to hearing every goddamn pin drop. Your life depended on it. But unlike downrange, my finger wasn’t on the trigger giving me a peace of mind you could only get from having the weight of a M4A1 in your hands. My arms were crossed, my feet were up and my guns were on the coffee table in front of me.

I may as well have been naked.

Summer hit the bottom step and shuffled into the room with a blanket wrapped around herself. Her gaze locked on her feet, her aim purposeful, she headed in my direction.

It didn’t matter that our eyes didn’t meet, she saw me like I saw her.

Dropping onto the couch, she curled up and pulled the blanket around her.

Except she didn’t park her ass at the other end.

Bold as fuck, she leaned into me.

The unmistakable scent of woman hit my nostrils, and she put her head on my chest like I was her fucking boyfriend.

I shifted, but she didn’t move away. “What are you doing?”

“What the hell does it look like I’m doing?” All bark and no bite, she tossed the words out like she was tough as shit.

I only smiled because she couldn’t see me. “Barking up the wrong goddamn tree.” I reminded myself I was almost twice her age.

She pushed into me closer. “Take it like a man.”

Not holding back, I chuckled. “What exactly am I taking? A forced cuddle with a blanket-wrapped smart-mouthed teenager?”

“Shut the fuck up. I’m not a teenager.”

I snorted. “You’re nineteen. Check those last four letters, smart ass.”

She snorted back. “I’ve been living on my own for almost three years in a multimillion-dollar penthouse. I lost my virginity at thirteen to a washed-up thirty-year-old rocker who thought he could get to my father by getting to me. And that was only the first half of that evening’s house party that my father threw on the daily. I was never a teenager. I grew up on my twelfth birthday when the crack whore who birthed me showed up at my party and did her best to overdose in the bathroom while Mr. Sparkles was giving pony rides to famous rock stars’ kids. I held her hair, then shoved my fingers down her throat so no one would have to call 911 before the unicorn cake was served.”

“If you’re looking for sympathy, sweetheart, like I said, wrong tree.” I had no empathy for her poor little rich girl bullshit, but I filed the statement about the piece-of-shit rock star away for later so I could find him and beat the fuck out of him.

Her voice took on an edge. “I’m not looking for a damn thing, especially not from you. I have more money than I can spend in the next hundred years because I’m Leo Amherst’s daughter. There’s no room for teenager in that fact. You check your letters, smart ass.”

“A woman would know better than to pull the stunt you’re pulling right now.” Teenager or not, she had tits and an ass, and my cock had come to life the second her almost naked body pressed into mine, because I was fucking human.

“I’m not pulling anything.” Still curled into me, she didn’t make a single move to retreat. “Be grateful that you have someone willing to get this close to your dickish self.”

I smirked. “Keep calling me names, and I might think you have a thing for me.”

She was quiet a beat, then the edge to her voice disappeared. “You know, I’m not that bad.”

“Don’t fish for compliments, woman,” I warned.

She looked up and gave me a taunting smile. “Now I’m a woman?”

Fuck my life. Young or not, she was pretty as hell with no makeup on. “Get the fuck up and go back to bed.”

“No.” She smiled, then settled her head on my chest again. “Besides, you know you secretly love it.”

Ignoring her last statement, I leaned my head back. “Not a pillow.” Fuck, she smelled good.

“No kidding.” She pushed at me like she was checking fucking tire pressure. “You’re chest is uncomfortable as hell.”

I flexed my pecs. Because I could. “Then go back upstairs.” Where I wouldn’t have to think about her full tits under that blanket.

“Again, no.”

Sighing, I scrubbed a hand over my face. Then I said what was on my mind, because I was too old and too tired for this bullshit. “You don’t want to fuck, you don’t need me to shoot anyone at the moment, and you’ve got a blanket that’ll keep you warm in this damn blizzard. So why the fuck are you down here?”

It was quick and almost imperceptible through the blanket she had swathed around her, but I caught it. She shivered. Then her voice turned too damn quiet. “Because I don’t want to be there.”

Instinct kicked in, and my head was up before I could blink. Scanning the stairs, the living area and kitchen all in one sweep, I eyed my gun before glancing out the windows. “Where? Upstairs?” There weren’t any threats up there.

The front door and the glass sliders were the weak points. Which was why I was sitting on the couch between the two access points in the first place instead of holed up in the security room where I could see all the cameras. Seconds meant life or death in reaction times, and I wasn’t going to give any fuck out there Vincenzo hired the advantage of even one goddamn second.

So here I sat. In case. Because that was my job.

She shifted against me, dropping her head lower. “Yeah.”

Fighting the instinct to grab her chin and demand her eyes so I could see what the hell was going on with her, I barked out a question. “What’s wrong with upstairs?”

She was quiet a beat too long, and my senses went into overdrive.

Adrenaline kicking at my pulse, I scanned the entryway, the living room, my guns and the stairs again. Calculating reaction times, sight lines, and objects sturdy enough to stop a bullet, I was mission focused—until she opened her mouth.

“You’re not upstairs,” she quietly admitted.

Stock fucking still, I didn’t react. But I did call her on it. “So?”

She shrugged. “So I don’t like to be alone.”

“You’re not alone. I’m in the same damn cabin.” Shit, was I in it, practically over my head as a matter of fact. But my mind should’ve been out of it, worrying about what was coming up the mountain.

“You weren’t upstairs,” she reiterated.

“Fuck, woman. Say what you need to say or shut up and go to sleep. I don’t have time for bullshit games.”

“I’m not playing games. I just don’t want to be alone, alone. As in, by myself in a room.” She shifted again, bringing her head even closer to my lap.

My dick, not getting the memo to stay the fuck down, pulsed. “Christ, don’t tell me you’re afraid of the dark.” She was nineteen, and I needed to get my shit under control.

“You’re a real asshole, you know that?”

“Yep.” I made no apologies for it. “Now go upstairs before you get in trouble.” The kind of trouble I’d relish burying her in.

“Oh my God. Fine. If you want me to say it, I’ll say it.” She pushed up to look at me. “I’ve haven’t been alone for months, okay? Two back-to-back stints in rehab makes a person get used to having other people around all the time. Upstairs was so ridiculously quiet, I couldn’t even hear another person breathing, and it freaked me out. So there you go, make fun of me all you want. I just didn’t want to be alone.” She slammed her head back against my chest and settled in.

Goddamn, Luna was gonna owe me for this shit. “I’m not a babysitter.”

“You’re my bodyguard,” she threw out, exasperated.

“Personal protection,” I corrected, emphasizing the latter—for me, for her, who fucking knew. “You need someone to hold your hand through the night, call Amherst.” Let her father deal with this.

She snorted. “Yeah, because he’s been such a great part of my life so far. Having me dye my hair blonde since I was ten and by twelve telling me not to get fat so my ass looked good in a bikini.”

My jaw ticked at her last comment, and I sat up. Pushing her head away from the vicinity of my cock, I shifted out of her reach and stood. “Amherst is a fucking dick.” Grabbing my gun, I dropped the magazine, checked for bullets I already knew were there, then shoved it back home. “You hungry?” I jammed the Glock in my back waistband, but what I really wanted to do was get my hands on her piece-of-shit father until he felt the pressure. Then I wanted to fuck her and show her exactly how goddamn perfect her ass was now that she’d put some weight on it.

Sighing, she stood. “Tell me something I don’t know.” The blanket fell from her shoulders, and moonlight hit her face. “I could eat.”

For a second, I forgot I was thirty-fucking-six.

I was staring at dark hair, ice eyes, lush curves, and damn, the woman in front of me wasn’t nineteen. She was a perfect storm. And Christ, those tits.

Fuck, her tits.

Nipples hard, perfect enough to be fake, they’d fill more than my hand. I could practically feel the weight of them in my palm.

My mouth watered, and I shook my head. “Damn.”

“What?” she asked innocently.

I tipped my chin at her rack. “Those real?”

“Jesus, you’re such a fucking asshole.” She shoved me, and her tits jiggled. “Get out of my way.” She stomped past me, but not before I saw all I needed to see.

“Real,” I stated, following her to the kitchen.