The office smelled faintly of sawdust and pine. The sun hung high over the mountain ridge, spilling golden light through the window blinds. It was a normal day at the mill. Men shouted orders in the distance, machines growled, and the radio in the hallway hummed low.
But she couldn’t feel normal.
She stood at her desk, pretending to type, pretending to breathe steadily, pretending she couldn’t feel the way her thighs ached from the night in the forest. She’d washed the dirt off her skin, but his scent lingered in places no soap could reach. It was buried deep, sitting on her pulse.
Ronan had marked her without leaving a visible bruise.
She told herself to avoid him. To keep her head down. But every time a door opened, her chest tightened. Every time she caught the faint trace of pine a
