I like her.
Not just the way she tastes or feels or looks perched over me in my old cabin with the fire painting her in gold. I like the way she talks about her work like it’s art. The way she laughs with everyone in town. The way she asked about the seniors first and the sponsor second. The way she looked at me when I saidWe missed the signsand didn’t try to fix it.
I’m in serious trouble.
She dips her head, kissing me again, and this time there’s nothing tentative about it. Her hands slide up my chest, fingers brushing my throat, then into my hair like she’s been thinking about doing that since she fell into my sleigh.
My brain fries.
I tilt my head, deepening the kiss, and she opens for me. Heat punches straight through me. It’s been a long time since I’ve kissed anyone like this—longer since I wanted to. I’d half convinced myself that part of me dried up in the dust and noise overseas.
Apparently not.
I move one hand to her lower back, pulling her closer, and she presses into me with a quiet gasp that I catch with my mouth. The other hand finds the nape of her neck, thumb stroking along her jaw.
“Rhett,” she whispers, breaking the kiss for half a second, pupils blown. “You okay?”
Am I okay?
I’m a bonfire in human form and she’s sitting smack in the middle of the flames, smiling.
“Yeah,” I say, voice rough. “More than.”
“Good,” she says, and kisses me again like she believes that, like she wants to make sure it stays true.
She tastes like tea and sugar and something sweet that might be trust. The combination goes straight to my head. My hand slips under the hem of her sweater just far enough to find warm skin at the small of her back. She shivers hard, nails grazing my scalp.
“Sorry,” I murmur, starting to retreat.
“Don’t you dare,” she breathes, pressing herself closer, and whatever restraint I’ve been clinging to rearranges itself into something that looks a lot likewe’ll stop if she says stop and not a second before.
I drag my mouth from hers, trail a line of kisses along her jaw, down to the spot just below her ear. Her head tips back on instinct, throat bared, a soft pulse fluttering there. I feel something fierce and primal uncurl in my chest at the sight of it—of her trusting me with that vulnerable line.
“You’re killing me,” she sighs, fingers tightening in my hair.
“Pretty sure it’s mutual,” I say, words muffled against her skin.
She laughs, breathless, and the sound crashes into my ribcage and stays there.
I nip gently at her earlobe, then soothe the spot with my tongue, and she makes a low sound that has my hands tightening onher hips. She starts to rock against me—small, unconscious movements that make my vision flicker at the edges.
I shut my eyes for a second, fighting for control.
Careful. Don’t rush.
“Ivy,” I say again, pulling back just enough to see her face. Her lips are swollen, cheeks flushed, hair a wild halo around her head. She looks wrecked and beautiful and… happy. “We keep going, we’re going to cross the line into something I don’t half-ass.”
Her chest rises and falls, breath catching. “Is that your way of saying you’re not a casual kind of guy?”
“That’s my way of saying…” I swallow, because the words feel big in my mouth. “I don’t want this to be just a snowed-in thing we pretend didn’t happen when you go back to Saint Pierce.”
Her eyes soften in a way that does more damage than any blast ever did. “Me either.”
Something in me that’s been clamped tight for years loosens another notch.
“I’m feeling things I haven’t in a long time,” I admit, because if I’m going to risk this, I’m going to do it honestly. “And I’m not planning on letting you just… disappear down the mountain when the roads open.”
Her fingers cup my face, gentle, like she’s committing the angles to memory. “Good,” she whispers. “Because I was already trying to figure out how I can convince my boss to let me work remotely.”
