Chapter 1

one

. . .

River

P eople say you should face your demons. Clearly, they've never had to stand on the devil's doorstep. Daniel Cross Jr. was my own personal demon, and I'd happily left him behind a decade ago, promising myself I'd never come back to Twisted Cross Ranch.

Unfortunately fate had other plans.

I glanced warily at the overnight bag I'd refused to let out of my sight. A shudder worked its way down my spine that had nothing to do with the AC blasting in the ostentatious black Land Rover and everything to do with apprehension. I gripped my hands tighter, knotting my fingers together until I could barely feel them, and forced myself to look back out the window at the sprawling monstrosity that was the lodge.

"Look, ma'am, I'm paid by the hour, so you can sit in this car all you want, but I'd rather drive us somewhere else if that's the case." The driver's eyes found mine in the rearview mirror. He didn't like it here either. Smart man.

"No. I'm getting out. I just... it's been a long time."

As he climbed out of the car, he made a soft sound in his throat that could have been understanding or judgment. It was hard to tell in the south. Everything was layered beneath a facade of genteel manners and an ever-present threat of danger. Southern gentlemen were everything they promised to be, but the question was, were they promising to ruin you or rescue you?

The driver opened my door, holding out a hand to help me down from the tall SUV. My heart caught in my throat as soon as the familiar scents of the ranch hit me. Memories I didn't want to relive flooded my mind, sending a panic response through my veins. Daniel Cross Sr.—known simply as ‘Senior' to those of us close to him—might be dead and gone, but his legacy had clearly been upheld. Twisted Cross hadn't changed a bit in ten years. The place that used to sit at the heart of my best childhood moments should have been a welcome sight. Instead, a wave of nausea accompanied my approach.

"I'll take your bag," the driver offered, but I held fast, not willing to part with my belongings.

"No. I've got it."

"Are you gonna be okay, miss? You're white as a sheet."

"I'm fine." I offered him a tight smile that I knew he didn't buy any more than I did.

With a tip of his hat, he left me to make the short walk alone.

The shadow of the house loomed over me, and another shiver racked my frame. I blamed my dress just to have something other than my thoughts to blame for the unconscious reaction. Running my free hand over the flared skirt of the simple black frock I'd purchased specifically for my grand return, I resisted the urge to adjust my silver belt for the millionth time. I could have gone full-on siren in a body-hugging sheath that showed off my curves, but instead I chose something appropriate for the somber occasion while still being flattering and demure. Something comfortable enough for the tomboy in me that would show everyone I was put together and mature without screaming for their attention. Neither of the Cross boys deserved to see me in that light. Least of all Daniel.

The door flew open, startling me out of my mini pep talk. A squeak of fright left me, and the breath I hadn't realized I was holding whooshed out when I realized the man in the doorway was not the Cross brother I feared.

"Walker?" I asked, not quite sure the tall, heavily tattooed man in front of me was the boy I once knew. Not until those familiar blue eyes landed on me and he offered me a lopsided grin. He'd changed. A lot. Walker Cross had been my best friend on this ranch when we were growing up. We'd spent nearly as much time here as at my own house until the day after I turned eighteen.

But that gangly boy with his freckled face and gap-toothed smile was nowhere to be found on the sexy as sin, rugged, stubbled man giving me a very thorough once-over. "River Adams, as I live and breathe. Is that really you?"

"It is. I... who the hell did you turn into? You're all broad and muscly. You were so worried you'd never fill out." I reached out and squeezed his bulging bicep. "Guess you were wrong."

He gave me a cocky wink and flexed until the material of his western-style shirt threatened to bust. "Trust me, darlin', it took a lot of work."

"Don't you dare darlin' me."

"Sweetcheeks?"

"No."

"Sugartits?"

"Wow. I bet you're still single, aren't you?"

"Only by choice, sweetheart. The ladies love me."

"Buckle bunnies, you mean?"

"There's that accent, guess you haven't lost it completely after all."

I knew my southern drawl had faded over the years, only popping out when riled up or well in my cups, but I hadn't realized it would come back so quickly.

Walker's smile stretched as he crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe. "But I don't remember you being so judgmental. There was a time I recall you were right there lusting for cowboys alongside them."

My cheeks burned. "I was a misguided youth. I'm much more into lumberjacks now."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. I've got a thing for flannel."

He shook his head and chuckled before righting himself and pulling me in for a bear hug. "It's really great to see you, ladybug."

Hearing the nickname he'd used for me growing up eased a little of the stress I'd been carrying due to this visit.

"Is Cross here?" I managed to get out after he put me down and offered me his arm. Grateful for the guidance, I took it and let him lead me through the sprawling house.

"Yeah. Of course he's here. Grumpy asshole is always here, especially now that Dad's gone. I won't be surprised if he just moves into the office and mounts his name on the damn door."

I winced. There was very little love lost between the brothers. Always had been. I didn't understand it when I was young, not until the rumors about Walker finally reached my ears. The Cross boys notoriously had a very strong family resemblance. All but the youngest. Walker's hair was a few shades too dark, his eyes a few too light. People speculated he might actually be the product of their mom having a tryst with some long-forgotten ranch hand. And gossip in a town like this spread like wildfire. Hot and fast.

"I'm so sorry to hear about your dad, Walker. I really am, but I have no idea why I was summoned here. I'm not family."

It felt good to finally get that off my chest. When I'd gotten the call telling me Senior had died, I'd been shocked to learn my presence was requested at the reading of his will. Dread followed and never left the pit of my stomach.

Walker scrubbed a hand along his jaw. "Me neither, ladybug. It was a shock when we saw your name on the list. Selfishly, I'm glad you're here, though. It's been too long. You forget how phones work or something?" Some of the playfulness left him as he admitted, "I waited for you, you know. In our spot. Didn't think you'd actually take off without saying goodbye or leaving a note..."

It was clear he was waiting for an explanation. One I couldn't give him.

Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I searched for some way to convey my promise to my parents without hurting him. When I left, it had been in the dead of night, with nothing more than a bag of clothes and enough money to get me on a bus going far away from this town. I'd sworn to him I'd never come back. Never see the Cross family again. But that was before my parents were killed. Before Senior died. And most of all, before I'd received the letter burning a hole in my bag.

"It's complicated."

The lighthearted warmth evaporated from his tone as I brushed him off. "Fine. Keep your secrets. Everyone's waiting in here."

Wiping clammy palms on my skirt, I shored up every ounce of courage I had as he slid open the two large pocket doors to reveal the last man on earth I wanted to see.

Daniel Cross Jr. stood with his back to me, but I knew it was him the instant my eyes landed on that towering form. As if he could feel my gaze, he slowly spun around and pinned me with fathomless midnight-blue eyes.

I was ten years old the first time a horse threw me. It had been on this very ranch, with Cross as my teacher. I'd thought I was dying because my lungs wouldn't work; all the air had been punched out of them from the impact with the ground. He'd stood over me, those blues focused on me as I struggled and finally drew breath. That's how this felt. Like I was suffocating under his stare. Lost and desperate for him to let me breathe again.

It had always been like that when I found myself on the receiving end of Cross's undivided attention. In my years pretending he didn't exist, I'd forgotten how wholly he could control me with a single look. He was a black hole sucking me in with his gravitational pull, and I was, as always, helpless to stay out of his orbit.

Walker's palm on the small of my back startled me out of the Cross spiral I'd been trapped in. "Danny, you remember River, don't you?"

Cross's expression didn't change, but the temperature in the room noticeably dropped as he managed to turn my name into a curse with a single growled word.

"River."

Ten years earlier

"What is this again?" I asked my dad as I put pen to paper.

"Just some financial documents," he said evasively. "Nothing to worry about. Your mama and I just want to make sure you're looked after if anything happens."

I frowned at him, looking up as I hastily scrawled my name on the dotted line, ready to protest the possibility, but he stopped me with a kiss on the top of my head.

"Go get back to your party, sweetpea. I can't believe you're already eighteen. It seems like you were knee high to a bug's eye just yesterday."

Now I was rolling my eyes as I adjusted the neckline of the white taffeta gown Mama had picked out for me especially for this party. "Why is it you always get more southern the more you drink?" I asked, giving his nearly empty highball glass a suspicious poke.

"Whiskey precedes wisdom," he intoned before winking. "Now, get."

I scampered off toward the crowd made up of my parents' friends. For a birthday party, this didn't feel like it was about me at all. I was just a means to an end, an excuse for them to celebrate. But the multitude of cash-filled envelopes on the gift table would at least all go to me. I guess it wasn't all bad.

I bit my lip, trying to see where Walker had run off to. He'd had a crush on Daisy Stewart all summer and told me tonight was the night he was finally going to get under her skirt. He'd had a growth spurt, and she finally seemed interested in returning his longing looks. Poor guy. Always in Cross's shadow. But how could he not be when his older brother looked like that .

A little curl of heat licked through my belly, same as it always did when I thought about Daniel Cross Jr. He was the epitome of everything I wanted in a man. Because that's exactly what he was. A man with a capital M. He'd always been more serious, his dark, moody eyes lacking the laugh lines around them that his brother had. I was pretty sure he came out of the womb with muscles and the thick stubble that had always coated his square jaw. I wanted to run my fingers over the scruff and see what it felt like. To finally know what it would feel like to be wrapped up in his arms, his lips inches away from mine. To let my fingers dive into his dark honey hair and finally find out if it was as silky as it looked while his delicious fresh grass, warm tobacco, and leather scent surrounded me. Yes, I've spent a lot of time thinking of this and yes, I might have stolen a shirt or two of his over the years.

He had no idea I existed, of course. Not beyond the fact that I was a constant nuisance, just like his little brother. But tonight, everything was about to change. I was a woman now. An adult who could take the bull by the horns and make him hers.

The man in question caught my eye as he slunk away from the house. Not about to let him get away, I grabbed a flute of champagne from a nearby waiter and downed it in one, proud of myself for only wincing a little as the bubbles burned up my throat. Then, remembering my father's words, I grabbed a glass of whiskey for good measure. That didn't go down quite as easy, and I was thankful no one was paying any attention as I sputtered and gagged.

Real sexy, River. It's no wonder the boys don't come a runnin'.

After a steadying breath and yet another tug on the neckline of my gown, I snatched one more champagne flute and slipped out of the house and into the warm summer night. I knew exactly where he was headed. The same place Cross always went when he wanted to be alone. The gazebo. My favorite place in the world. He didn't know that, of course. Sometimes I wasn't even sure he remembered my name. All he'd called me was ‘sparrow' since I turned ten.

With its fairy lights and the gentle babble of the nearby stream and little pond, the gazebo had always seemed magical to me. I couldn't think of a better place to make Cross mine. Especially when the stars were out like they were tonight, big and bright in the clear sky. It was like a sign from above. Tonight was the night.

I felt warm all over, but couldn't say for sure whether it was from the alcohol or excitement. Either way, I was near breathless by the time I caught up to him. Good God, he was beautiful. He stood there, leaning against a post, hat tipped low, hiding most of his face and perfecting the broody romantic hero look he was so good at. He'd dressed up too, maybe his daddy'd forced it on him just like my mama had? Polished black boots, dark jeans, and a black blazer, with his nicest Stetson too. You'd think he was attending a wedding, not a birthday party. It made me smile to know he was wearing this for me.

He brought a joint to his lips, sucking in the smoke and holding it for a few seconds before releasing the pungent cloud on a sigh.

"You know, smoking's bad for you, right?" I teased, coming into the gazebo without asking permission.

He glanced over his shoulder at me and purposefully took another hit. "Sweet girl like you should probably go back inside with Mommy and Daddy, then."

"I'm not so sweet."

"Is that so, sparrow?"

"Uh huh." I snatched the joint from between his fingers and brought it to my lips. I'd never smoked weed. Not once. But he didn't need to know that.

His brows lifted as he waited, calling my bluff. I sucked in a breath, the smoke burning and instantly making my eyes water as I coughed.

Lips twitching in a half smile, he shook his head and reclaimed his joint. "Yeah, you're a real outlaw."

If I could just stop coughing, I'd show him. But my head swam, and I nearly gagged. That would be just great. I'd really make him see that the eight years between us didn't matter anymore if I puked all over his boots. So, I made my way to the railing and braced my hands on the wood as I pulled it together. Like a lady.

Eventually a warm palm rested between my shoulder blades, and his deep gravelly voice crooned in my ear, "Slow breaths, sparrow. Then just ride out the high."

"I'm . . . fine."

A low, rumbled laugh was his only response as I brought my champagne to my lips and choked it down. Once the spasms in my chest stopped, I turned toward him.

He was a lot closer than I realized, and my move put us in what my friend Addie called ‘kissing distance'. My breath caught as he lifted his hand and used his thumb to brush away a tear that slipped down my cheek.

"You'll ruin your pretty makeup," he murmured, gaze locked on my lips.

No one had ever used the words pretty and me in the same sentence before. Besides my daddy. I was a tomboy through and through. Which is part of the reason Mama had to force me into this dress. I preferred jeans and boots to skirts and sandals. But right now, with the way Cross was looking down at me, I was having a change of heart.

He made me feel special. Delicate. Something I'd never experienced since I always towered over the boys my own age. But Cross was a head taller than me, his shoulders wide and chest heavily muscled. Everything about him was big, from his frame to his presence. And he'd never touched me. Not like this. Not with tenderness and affection.

His fingers slid down the column of my throat until they trailed along my exposed collarbone.

This was it. My big moment.

"It's my birthday, you know," I blurted. Smooth, River. Real smooth.

His eyes twinkled with laughter. "Yeah, I'm aware."

"I think that means you owe me a present."

His brow kicked up. "A present?"

I licked my lips and nodded. "Uh huh. And I know exactly what I want."

"And what would that be?"

You.

My belly fluttered as I leaned in a little closer. "A kiss."

I don't know where the bravado came from. I was trembling, and my heart was beating so hard I was afraid he would be able to hear it. But I could tell I'd surprised him. He went super still, his eyes dropping to my lips and lingering there before returning to my eyes.

"Sparrow . . ."

I didn't think I could survive his rejection, so I didn't give him a chance to finish letting me down gently. Instead, I reached up and took his face in my hands and clumsily slammed my lips against his.

I expected him to push me away, to tell me we couldn't do this, that I was just a silly little girl with a crush. But he didn't do any of those things. Instead, he let out a pained groan and threaded his fingers through my hair, tangling in the long wavy strands as he tugged my head back and deepened the kiss.

That sound he made would live rent-free in my head as long as I lived.

Kissing Cross was everything I'd ever dreamed and more. My imagination couldn't have predicted the scrape of his beard against my skin or the heat of his smoke and whiskey breath fanning my lips and sliding against my tongue. He tasted like midnight promises and forevers. Daniel Cross Jr. was going to ruin me for all men, and I was ready to let him.

He broke the kiss, breaths coming in heavy pants as he stared down at me. I didn't want him to let go of me.

Running his thumb over my bottom lip, he asked, "Was that your first kiss, sparrow?"

Fear pierced the happy little bubble I'd been living in. Shit. What had been the single most important moment of my life must have sucked for him, thanks to my inexperience. "Uh..."

"Don't lie to me."

Somehow I didn't think he was referring to the awkward kissing session Walker and I had participated in right before the start of ninth grade. That had been two best friends trying to figure out the particulars of what to do with their noses. Nothing like this.

"It's the first one that counts."

His hold on my face tightened just enough to catch my attention. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It was nothing. Kid stuff."

His eyes narrowed. "Who got to you first?"

I swallowed, worried I was about to ruin everything. "Walker."

He looked away, breathing deep through his nose before asking, "You want him?"

Shaking my head, I whispered, "No. It's you, Cross. It's always been you."

He speared me with his gaze, stealing every ounce of air in my lungs. "You're damn right it is." Dipping his head, he claimed my lips again, backing me up until he could lift me onto the banister and ruck up my skirt so he could fit his hips between my spread legs.

When he rocked into me, I moaned, thousands of fireworks lighting up beneath my skin. It had never felt this good when I'd touched myself, and all he'd done was brush his body against mine.

I was shivering and aching for something I couldn't name as he ran his calloused palm up my thigh. His thumb swept low, dipping so close to where I wanted him to touch me.

"What about this?" he breathed against my lips. "Anyone else give you this?"

And then he was touching me, his fingers ghosting over my center and making me cry out.

"No one. No one but you and . . ."

The pad of his thumb ran across my panty-clad core, and I bucked in his hold, searching for more. "And?"

"Me. No one has touched me there except for when I do it myself."

"And who do you ache for when you make yourself come at night, in the quiet, under your covers, sparrow?"

"You, Cross. Always you."

"Fuck," he whispered. "If I was a better man, I'd stop this here and now. But I've always been a selfish asshole, and that's not gonna change anytime soon."

"Good. I don't want you to stop."

"You're too young."

"I'm eighteen."

He traced the line of my panties with his fingertip. "Believe me, I know."

"I want it to be you." When he still seemed like he might reconsider, I added, "Please, Cross?"

He closed his eyes, his nose brushing mine, but then his eyes snapped open, and he turned to look behind him. "Someone's coming."

"Then take me somewhere else. Somewhere we can be alone."

He groaned. "You're killing me, sparrow."

"And you're giving me everything I ever wanted."

Snagging the bottle of whiskey, he took a long pull before lifting me off the rail and murmuring, "Wrap your legs around me. I'm not letting you go until you're under me."

Those words in his deep rasp were almost enough to send me toppling over the edge. He was my every fantasy come to life, and he'd only just gotten started.

I think my brain short-circuited then, because I wasn't sure how we made the trip from the gazebo to the barn.

"Here?" I asked as he held the ladder to the loft steady.

"It's that or parade you through the house and risk getting caught by our parents."

I shuddered. No, thank you.

I climbed up to the loft we'd all used as our rec room over the last eighteen years. It was pretty cozy, all things considered. I grabbed and laid out a blanket while he climbed up behind me. I'd just added two pillows and was still kneeling beside my makeshift bed when he joined me.

Fathomless blue eyes held me captive as he took off his hat and placed it on the floor next to him.

"If you wanna stop, all you have to do is say the word. I'm not gonna force the issue or make you do anything you don't want, baby."

That, more than anything else, told me I was making the right decision. Cross was it for me. I would love him for the rest of my life, and there was no one else I trusted to give my virginity to.

"I want you. I'm not going to stop you."

I was trembling but trying desperately to hide it. The last thing Cross needed was to see me shaking like a leaf.

With slow, deliberate movements, he unbuttoned his shirt, then shrugged out of both his blazer and the crisp white button-down. Every slab of muscle was on display just for me, like my dream come true. His body was crafted from hard work on the ranch and long hours in the sun.

I reached for him, needing to touch him and remind myself that this was real. That I wasn't dreaming.

But he had something else in mind.

"Stand up, little sparrow." He held out his hand for me and helped me to my feet. When I thought he might kiss me again, he placed his hands on my hips and spun me around.

"What—"

But my words dried up when he gently brushed my hair off my neck and over my shoulder so he could unzip my dress. Goosebumps broke out along my skin as the dress fell to the floor, exposing my bare breasts and the soaked silk between my legs.

"Fucking perfect," he whispered, his lips feathering across my shoulder as he stepped into me, warm chest against my back.

His hands were unhurried as he slid them up my sides, leaving more goosebumps in his wake. No one had ever touched me like this. Like they were savoring me. I may not have much to compare it to, but I knew the way Cross treated me was special. I moaned into his touch as he cupped my breasts with both palms, his thumbs brushing my sensitive nipples and sending shockwaves through me.

"You like that?" he rasped.

"Yes. Oh, yes. Please do it again."

He made a rumbling sound and did as I asked. I gave a little jerk, my butt pressing into his rock-hard erection. Realizing I was just standing here while he was doing all the work, I reached back, wanting to make him feel as good as I did.

Turning me to face him, he knelt in front of me and hooked his fingers in the waistband of my underwear. I would never forget his expression as he rolled his eyes up to silently ask for permission.

I bit my lip and nodded, giving a little squeak of surprise when he pressed his lips against my mound once I was bared to him.

"Lie back, sparrow. I wanna see you."

Oh God.

I'm sure there were a million other sexy ways to do this. Or maybe to give him back a little of what he was giving me, but I was so out of my depth I couldn't think of a single one. So I did as he said, trusting him to make this good for both of us.

There was no other word for the expression on his face besides reverent as he took his time raking his gaze over my body. I swear I could feel it as if his hands were traveling the same path.

"You are so fucking beautiful, River."

River. Not sparrow.

"I need you, Cross. Please."

"Soon, baby. I gotta get you ready for me. Your tight little pussy needs to open up if it's gonna take all of me."

"Oh," I breathed, so freaking turned on I couldn't manage more than that.

He pushed my thighs farther apart and then settled his shoulders between them. Instinct had me wanting to close my legs, but the second his breath hit me, that thought fled. Then all I wanted was more.

I cried out as his tongue slid across that special place I touched in the privacy of my own bed. He knew exactly where to touch me to make me feel good. My fingers went to his thick hair, and I held on to him as he licked and sucked, slipping one digit between my folds and making me moan as he toyed with my entrance. Glancing down my body, I shuddered in pleasure at the sight of his head between my legs, eyes focused on my face as he made me feel things I didn't know existed.

When he pressed his finger inside me, I stiffened at the intrusion, but then he curled it, and all I knew was bliss. He did it again, and my body shook, chasing whatever he was offering.

I'd made myself come plenty of times, but my orgasms were nothing compared to what he was building inside me. It was like comparing vanilla ice cream to a triple chocolate sundae. One was good. The other was in a whole different league.

He added a second finger and did that magical curling thing again as his tongue focused on the perfect spot. But it was his groan against my sensitive flesh that tipped me over the edge. I came, crying his name and tugging on his hair, thighs shaking so hard they hurt.

When he was done, he sat back on his heels and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, a satisfied smirk on his lips. "Now you're ready."

He reached for the jeans he'd shucked off earlier, pulling a foil packet from his back pocket. I didn't know why that made me blush after he'd just had his face between my legs, but it did.

Holding my gaze, he tore the foil with his teeth and then slid the condom over his daunting length.

Again, I didn't have a lot to compare him to, but the few references I had were sorry compared to what Cross was packing. I was sure I'd never walk straight again.

"W-will it hurt?" I asked, hating the stammer in my words.

"It might. I'll go slow and do everything I can to make it feel good for you."

I nodded as he got into position between my legs.

"You still sure this is what you want, baby?"

Staring up at him poised at my center, eyes hooded with desire for me, there was only one answer to that question.

"I've never been more sure about anything in my life."

He pressed inside me, slow and smooth, and he was right—it did hurt until my body stretched and the pain turned to a different kind of pleasure. As we moved together, he loved me with his sweet words and soft lips, filling me with the certainty that Cross was meant for me. He was The One.

With a groan, he tensed, and I could tell he was coming, the sensation of him swelling and jerking inside me setting off another wave of toe-curling bliss inside me.

Breathing hard, he rested his forehead against mine, one arm bracketing my head while he trailed the fingers of the other hand gently down my cheek. I forced my eyes open, a dreamy smile on my lips as I stared up at him.

Our eyes locked and held, and my heart felt so full as I drowned in the gaze of the man who'd just irrevocably changed my life.

"I love you," I whispered, the words taking flight on their own. I couldn't have stopped them if I tried. In that moment, they were my absolute truth, and after what we'd just experienced together, I didn't want to pretend. Surely he could see it written on my face anyway.

But he didn't say it back like my foolish heart had hoped. Instead of love in his eyes, all I saw in response to my declaration was absolute terror.