It’s one a hell of a storm. After winding through some narrow backroads for next to two hours, we pull up to my house. Right away, dread overwhelms me. I wanted to arrive here married to Hannah. It would be an insurance policy that she wouldn't run, or at least it would make it a little less easy for her to go.

And it would make our wedding night less stressful. It would kinda go with the territory.

But the storm ruined all that, and as I put the truck in park, I feel my stomach lurch. I don't know what to expect with her. She comes across as light and fun and easy-going. I'm trying hard to keep my shit together and be cool as a goddamn cucumber, but inside I'm shaking in my boots.

This is all new territory and I don't want to fuck it up. She doesn't deserve that. Hell, why did I order a wife again?

She claps her hands, her excitement fucking palpable, and I remember that’s why. Someone to share moments with; to stop being so goddamn isolated and to remember to smile.

Hannah is the kind of woman who could do that; she can pull me out of my shell. But it's not gonna be easy, and I'm wondering if asking her to go through all that for a stranger was selfish.

"Your house is so cool," she says. "It's like a modern cabin in the woods."

I look over at her. "You haven't even seen inside yet."

She lets out a nervous eek, then pushes open the car door. "What are we waiting for? Isn't it time for the grand tour?"

A few minutes later, I've disabled the security system and carried in her luggage. We're both soaking wet and I help her out of her coat and hang it in the closet. "Is it weird?" I ask her. "To see your new house?"

She shakes her head. "No, it seems a little too good to be true, to be honest."

"How so?" I run my fingers through my wet hair and set my keys on the side table.

She smirks. "Harrison, compared to my apartment?" She laughs. "It feels like I won the lottery."

This girl has no idea. She's not the one who got lucky. I show her the house. It's not massive, but everything is custom. There's a master bedroom, but I don't open the door to that room quite yet. Suddenly the rose petal trail to the bed seems a little showy. But I do show her the guest rooms, the great room with a fireplace, couches, and a television, and then the large kitchen.

I also point out the French doors that lead to a large patio, complete with a hot tub and grill. I tell her that the big building off to the south is my workshop.

"Is that where you work on your survival guide?"

I nod. "Yeah but I spend a lot of time in the woods, testing out ideas, then coming back home and ironing out any kinks."

"So, you go to the forest, rough it for a few days, intentionally get cut or bitten by a wild animal, then figure out how to stay alive?"

I chuckle. "Basically. And what about you? I told Isabella my wife would need a job that can be done from home. You can't exactly work at a coffee shop when you live this far out."

She smiles and the two of us head toward the kitchen.

"I was trying to start an online business before I moved here but haven't had a chance." She exhales, and I can tell she isn't really keen on talking work.

"Hungry?" I ask.

"Famished," she says. "What do you have?"

An hour later we're eating large bowls of pasta at the kitchen island, both of us sitting on high stools. Hannah has taken off her sweater and socks. Maybe that detail is odd to notice, but every inch of her skin seems to wake me up.

She's in a loose top that keeps falling off her shoulder and I'm telling her about my family: how my parents passed away, but my twin brother lives sixty miles away in Juneau.

"What about you?" I ask her.

"I have a mom--she raised me on her own--but she was MIA for most of my life. In high school, I'd stay with friends, and after I graduated I moved to L.A. on my own."

"And you've been there ever since?"

She nods. "Yeah, the last four years. Working whatever jobs as I figured out what I wanted." She shrugs and the look on her face is so self-effacing as if she is so genuinely unaware of how amazing she comes across. Confident and sincere and easy going. It's like she is absolutely at ease in a completely new place.

"My story isn't very interesting," she says. "Tell me more about you."

"Me?" I groan, waiting to deflect the attention. "I don't know, I'm just a mountain man, not much to tell."

Hannah scoffs good naturally. "Whatever. You don't get a house like this by living off the grid."

I clench my jaw, unsure how to tell her about my military past. I never share this kind of thing with anyone. I tend to only stay in touch with the few people who know me from back before war changed me.

She reaches her hand out and rests it on top of mine. Her touch is delicate, and I feel parts of my heart unfurl. I know we hardly know one another, but her presence is so damn comforting, it catches me off guard.

"What is it, Harry?" she asks softly.

I hang my head. "I've been through a lot, Hannah. I don't want to overwhelm you."

"What do you mean?" The kitchen is so quiet you could hear a pin could drop.

"I uh," I start, running a hand over my beard. "I did a few tours in Afghanistan and uh..." I choke back my emotions, trying to reel it in. "I, uh, lost a lot while I was over there."

"Oh, my God, Harrison. I'm so sorry," she says in a hush. Her eyes meet mine and she stands, pulling me into a hug. "I can't imagine."

Shocked, I find myself blinking back tears as she holds me. What kind of man am I, losing it in the arms of a woman I'm trying to impress?

"Oh, Harry," she whispers, standing between my legs. She holds me as if I belong right here, next to her. Her hands rub in tight circles on my back, drawing me closer to herself.

When I look down, our eyes meet and a swell of desire rushes over me. "You fit so well in my arms," I say, the truth falling from my mouth.

"I do, don't I?" she says softly, tilting up her chin, offering her mouth to me.

I kiss her then, a kiss that we've been building up to since we met just a few hours ago. A kiss filled with promise and hope and so much fucking desire.

I want her, completely. But I still feel myself holding back. My leg is gone, and I don't know how she is going to feel about a man like me. A man who can't stand on his own two feet.

But for now, that thought fades as I'm wrapped up in this kiss. Our lips part and her tongue swirls around mine and she whimpers against me. My cock grows as the kiss deepens, and the longing for a woman to touch me, see me, take me for who I am, overwhelms me. It's the most primal urge I've ever had--to spread Hannah's legs and fill her up nice and good.

She feels my length, and her hand runs over my pants, the bulge growing as her fingers tease me.

"I want you," she whispers.

"Good," I tell her. "Because I fucking need you."